Beachin' It

Sunday March 25 2007

On our way to the beach we dropped off Ingrid and her little black pony mare, a product of the black stallion Harmony. When you buy a horse from Trevor, you don't just get the horse; you get a well broken-in horse, lessons if you need them, coaching afterward, and a return policy if you don't like the horse. Not a chance of that with Ingrid, she loves her little black mare.

From there we drove on to Oriti Beach near Invercargill. This spit of land we were on, said Trevor, was just for sports - horse riding and trekking, paintball games, go-cart racing, rodeo grounds, rugby. At least part of it, 1100 acres, is strictly for horse riding. I'd find, as we rode along, there were miles of cleared and mowed trails, through "beach bush" (my description) - dune grasses, blackberry-like vines, tall sedges that even a rabbit wouldn't fit through - and grassy dunes and forest. Trevor puts on rides here and some of his water troughs and markings are still up. It's part of some kind of park (state? county?) which the council encourages people to use; and they even asked Trevor if he'd come mark permanent trails in it, and asked him for advice on what other trails would be good - he could have a bulldozer or mower, at their expense to do so. Can you imagine any place in the States like this? Not to mention there's at least 12 kilometres of beach to ride to the southeast like we did, and another 12 kilometres of beach the other direction. I don't even know where we can ride along a public beach in the US.

Trevor rode Picksy, and I climbed aboard Fritz - big strapping anglo-arab. If Picksy makes 15.2, this guy must have been at least 16.2. I hadn't been on a horse this big and strong for a while, not since Stormy, but he doesn't count because we just go for strolls. I figured Fritz knew quite a bit more than I did, what with Liz eventing on him (dressage, cross-country, and jumping), and he'd also done a 40 km endurance ride, so I wasn't sure how he'd take to me, a non-dressage type rider. Well he was just fine straight away, and while he may have been a little hesitant walking along the road to the beach from the sand blowing across the road, or the commotion up ahead (leaning on Picksy for a bit of support), he felt solid beneath me. Trevor thought he just needed a break from his eventing work, just come to the beach and be a horse and have fun, kind of like we were doing. Picksy could use the run and the break too. And boy, did those horses have fun! Although whether they or I had more fun would be difficult to determine.

It was a good bit cooler here at the beach, and a strong breeze was blowing. I was not complaining! But I was glad I had 3 layers on including a thick fleece, and was kind of wondering why I didn't bring gloves along on this vagabond trip. We turned into the wind and started off walking when we hit the beach; there were a lot of people and cars on the beach, dogs, 2 big kites almost the size of para-sails, and motorbikes. Trevor said often he comes and there's nobody here, but today we walked 3/4 of a mile before we passed the last of the cars. The horses were already relaxed, strolling along look around at everybody and everything. Most everybody who passed us waved at us.

And then, for miles and miles the beach was ours - two people and two nice horses! We picked up a trot, a nice big floating trot for Fritz, then a canter, a big rocking chair canter, which quickly turned into a gallop, and into a flat out run - yikes!

I'm not ever completely sure of myself galloping on a horse, because I rarely do so. The last time was in Egypt, and that was two years ago. And I'm not always completely sure of the new horse I'm getting on, you know? It's like meeting a person for the first time - you're just getting the feel of them for a while. I get on a lot of different horses, and it's the same thing - you take a bit of time sorting each other out. Only with a horse, they weigh 1000 lbs and can hurt you if you don't get along or things don't go smoothly. And not to mention, there's always a different saddle to adjust to. I felt a bit naked in this Wintec saddle, though it was quite comfortable. And each horse has a different way of moving and travelling and responding that you must adjust to rather quickly. So, I got on this big New Zealand half Arab half Thoroughbred gelding for a run at the beach, and I'm wondering, will he bolt? Spook at a gallop? Stumble? (If so, I'd hit that sand pretty hard). Every time I get on a horse, I always send out a little appeal: I'm not particularly ready to die yet, but if I die, today's a good day to die, but I really really please don't want to get hurt again. I was always afraid riding racehorses when they took off running and I had no control - I mean, it's so dang fast!

But with Fritz, no worries! Big strides, big feet, which he placed perfectly and smoothly. I felt he wasn't going to stumble, and he seemed like he didn't bother much with spooking. I always felt like I had him in hand; I was never uneasy on him at all - he kept me from being nervous about flying so fast. Now, I'm not used to much cantering, definitely not galloping, and certainly not running flat out, so it took a bit of time to get used to balancing precisely right over his withers - and there's not so much margin for error when the ground's flying beneath you at 40 mph or so. My leg muscles had to adjust to the galloping - you use different muscles for trotting! In a while I got it - just balancing with my legs, not hanging onto his mouth, just sitting still.

The wind was BLASTING us in the face - your balance over the horse has to take into account the wind, which would knock you about a little bit - and was completely deafening. The horses were sprinting down this empty beach with abandon and delight, ears flattened, pounding along the surf, our tracks now the only things denting the sand for miles. Tears were pouring out of my eyes from the wind. Picksy pinned his ears harder and ran faster and behind him Fritz dug in his toes and ripped along right after him. What a rush! I'd never galloped along a beach, and here I was, in New Zealand, sprinting full out along an empty beach (alongside a Lord of the Rings horse!) with nobody but the gulls to watch us rip by, nobody to see me grinning like a dope. Julie Suhr, I thought of you today!

The 11 km just ripped by in I swear only 5 minutes (way too short!), and we turned into the high grassy dunes into this almost hidden little passage. Which turned into a little trail over the dunes, which led onto this awesome track I talked about. It was mowed wide enough for 4 horses abreast - it was this way over most of the area - past the beach bush, some of it twice as tall as we were, as if we were passing through arches, and... into a forest! It was awesome! Nick Warhol would have passed out and fallen off his horse from bliss. It was like a Sierra Nevada forest, thick groves of tall cedar- and pine-like trees, a thick canopy shielding us completely from the wind, a carpet of pine needles to gallop over, and smart little trails winding through the woods. They'd sometimes turn into another 4-horse-wide path groomed through the trees, and back onto narrow trails. We'd trot along the narrow ones, or canter, or just break out into a gallop, thundering along - we were the only horses out there, which was a good thing, because we were hogging the trails! Sometimes small tree branches would be hanging over the trail, and as we ripped under them, Fritz would duck his head and I'd drop onto his neck and duck with him, but we didn't slow down a fraction, not even when at one spot the tree branches squeezed us on both sides and from on top! I threw myself flat on Fritz's neck and shut my eyes tight, and he ducked and blasted through! Tell me those horses weren't having a ball!

I can't always get a horse to change leads at a canter, and I figured heck, I sure wouldn't be able to do it with Fritz, because he knows dressage, but I must have said the right things the right way, because I'd pretty much think, left lead, and he'd pick it up, or right lead, and give a little nudge, and right as clockwork, he'd pick it up. I wasn't even paying attention after a while. We'd stay behind Picksy, and I'd just ride Fritz off my legs, slowing down when necessary, and left it to him to decide when to canter. We both got into it - slowing down around a blind curve, then both thinking at the same time, Let's Go! And he'd launch into a gallop just as I was leaning out of the turn into the straight with him. Oh, what fun! I almost had to stop to pick the bugs out of my teeth from grinning so madly.

We'd come to a water trough and stop for a drink (grass, really, the horses didn't want water), then we'd continue on down a trail, trotting here, galloping there, little horsie ears pricked forward, always looking for the next corner. Fritz never missed a beat, never put a foot wrong. He's very athletic and has great balance. We'd come to a few roots in the trail, and while galloping over them, he'd seem to put an extra step in there to feel them out and travel over them smoothly.

I'd have gotten totally lost in there; we turned left and right and backwards and forwards, but Trevor knew the trails well. We eventually popped back out on the beach and had our 11 km back, cantering, sprinting, trotting, running flat out again. Fritz changed leads whenever he felt like he needed to, I didn't have to worry about it, which was good, because I figured he knew much more about it then me! Going this direction, with the wind at our backs, we had no wind, so it was silent but for the pounding of 8 hooves in the sand. We rode above the water line, and along the wet line, Fritz digging in to keep up with Picksy, Picksy playfully spooking at the water rolling up at us, Picksy's heels kicking up water and sand behind him.

Alas, the ride came to an end after about 2 hours or so. I'd say that was a close second thrill of a ride to my Egypt desert rides. Trevor's got the sweet spot for training endurance horses: at home he has gravel and pavement and grass for different surfaces, hills and a steep uphill climb for the lungs, and here kilometres of sand for speed training (and no concussion). What more do you need - except for more horses to run along the beach!

RAVEN RIDES LORD OF THE RINGS HORSE!

Saturday March 24 2007

OK, so it wasn't Shadowfax, or Brego, or Arwen's gray horse (who is actually on the North Island with his owner Jane Abbott, with some other Lord of the Rings horses, where I was hoping to have time to visit), but he was one of the hundreds of extra horses, (literally 200 or 300), one who became well known and was in many shots, in many of the close-to-the-camera shots because he was such a good pony, and he was probably the only Arabian there. All the horse armor was too big for little Picksy - the face plates would hang down almost to his chest - so they had to cut some things down to his size.

I told Trevor I had to get a picture of him with his Lord of the Rings horse, who's in the paddock off the porch, (and pet him), and he said "You're going to ride him!" What!? I (and the Raven) were going to get to ride this famous anonymous Lord of the Rings pony!

Dell Dancer, or Picksy, is a very laid back Arab gelding, about 15.2. Trevor brought him up for me, took his thick rug off (most endurance horses in training seem to wear these heavy blankets), massaged him all over, his fingers working out this one spot on his left croup that always has a little knot in it. The Raven met this famous unknown Lord of the Rings horse, Trevor saddled him up for me, held him while I got on... and Picksy just stood there. I walked him around a bit - very easy going - no need to ride him a while to get used to him - and we waited for Trevor to saddle his half Arab black gelding.

We headed out the drive and down the paved road toward the high peak, for a mile or so till the road turned to gravel. It's out in the country so there's little traffic. Trevor's mount didn't have front shoes, so we moved to the grassy shoulder, and Trevor started trotting, then moved right into a canter. Picksy followed eagerly along behind, and the canter turned into a gallop. Picksy galloped right along behind, then suddenly leaped in the air and looked underneath him, to see what it was he jumped over, and we ended up on the road, pulling up beside Trevor, who was pulling up because his stirrups were too long and he didn't have complete control. We walked along another mile or two, past Marie and Murray's house, and came to a locked gate. Trevor's a friend of the guy who owns the whole mountain top, only he couldn't remember the combination to the lock. Picksy ate grass while Trevor tried to open the lock; he called a friend for the combo, tried a few more times, then finally remembered it. We passed through the gate, followed the road down and up a gulley and around a corner, then started trotting up the road. We left the road at a curve for an uphill slope on grass where we turned the horses loose, and they attacked it at a gallop. We climbed higher and higher, then turned up another grassy hill, which was really a mountain, and we hauled butt up it! Trevor was leaning forward over his horse's shoulder and I leaned forward and threw Pixie the reins. The cool strong wind was blasting us in the face, big floating thistle seeds were hurling our way like storm-blown snowflakes, and Picksy's mane lashed me in the face as the horses leaped and launched their way up this steep mountain. The Raven and I were galloping on a Lord of the Rings horse up a mountain in New Zealand! Yeehaw!!!

The horses slowed to a walk the last 50 yards along the road to the top, huffing and puffing. We had a view spread before us of the entire south of the South Island, it seemed, from up there. The wind was howling and cool, and we didn't stay long before we turned around and led the horses back down. We hopped back on at the gate, and walked most of the way home.

Trevor's going to ride Picksy in the 160 km at Nationals in two weeks. How many horses can say they were a star of Lord of the Rings, and are competing in national FEI endurance rides? And how other Ravens can say they rode a Lord of the Rings star and an endurance star?

Cosy Dell Arabians

Friday-Saturday March 23-24 2007

Hand off the endurance rider...

David and Sandie Marshall picked me up at 9 PM Friday from Linda's and hauled me down south with them... they were taking a couple of horses down to Oamaru to family friends, where we were staying the night, picking up Nolene, and taking her down to the funeral of a long-time old-school Arab breeder Brian Ross; I'd be dropped off with another endurance breeder and rider Trevor Copland (Brian was his uncle), and David and Sandie and Nolene would pick up a horse or two to haul back home. When you drive long distances in New Zealand, you might as well take care of as many things as you can.

Trevor's Cosy Dell Arabians is just outside of Gore, on the bottom part of the South Island, just at the foot of the Hokonui Hills. We arrived at noon, just as Trevor was loading up a beautiful black Arabian stallion that he was taking to the cemetery, as a tribute to his uncle. I went with David and Sandie to the neighbor's, "just next door", several miles down the road actually, where David and Sandie were buying back a gray gelding that they had sold to Marie several years ago. We went in for tea, as you do everywhere in New Zealand, and it came up that Marie, and Trevor, had been extras with their horses in Lord of the Rings! How exciting for me! Trevor would be quizzed extensively on that later.

We picked up the horse, hauled it back to Trevor's and turned him in a paddock for the day, then headed for the funeral reception. It was packed with friends and relatives of Brian. There I properly met Trevor, and he told us about the black stallion at the cemetery: when the hearse pulled up, the black stallion stood up tall, screamed 3 times, and then stood there quietly during the service. What a nice accolade to Trevor's uncle! He also told me, "Make yourself at home. There's food and drink there, so if you go hungry, it's your own fault!"

Back we went to Trevor's farm, which is surrounded by rolling green paddocks of horses and cows, chickens, a few caged dogs (all dogs in New Zealand must remain kenneled or chained up unless working), and deer fencing, which meant Trevor probably raised deer, and probably some sheep also.

When Trevor returned we discussed my plans... priority of which was riding! Maybe a trip up to the top of the mountain that you could see from his drive, and a trip to the beach, the "most beautiful beach in the world to ride on," and the southern-most beach you can ride on. Twist my arm!

Then on to the important stuff: Lord of the Rings! I'd seen a photo of Trevor on his horse in costume in the house. I thought he'd be all macho about it, "Oh yea, I was in Lord of the Rings," all snooty been-there-done-that, but his eyes lit up, "Oh man, it was brilliant! I went for 3 days and stayed for 3 months!" Trevor really didn't care that it was a huge movie production that could be the biggest production of all time, or that he'd be working with some famous actors. He and his horse just went and had a great time.

Dell Dancer (Picksy) - who he'd only ridden 4 times to break him in before he answered the call from Lord of the Rings - became quite popular because Picksy took everything thrown at him - standing still while horses galloped away from and straight at and past him, standing still on a mark for 4 1/2 hours while all kinds of commotion and filming went on around him, carrying a huge whipping flag when no other horses would get near it, galloping in a line of 200 horses, no kicking, no bucking, no bad behavior. The makeup people would have to keep passing through the piles of horses to touch up make-up and costumes, and most of them were a little intimidated, not knowing horses, so he'd take them on little rides when he had free time to get them used to horses. Picksy took everything in stride. Not bad for a barely-broke Arab!

The horses got the hang of their job: whenever Peter Jackson would say "Rolling - 3 - 2..." Picksy (and the other horses) would wake up and perk up and inflate for the cameras... "1 - action" and chaos would happen; and when Peter said "Cut" the horse(s) would deflate till the next take.

One of the actors (must have been David Wenham - Faramir, or Karl Urban - Eomer, and it sounds to me like it was Eomer) copped an attitude when Trevor told him he had to gallop down this hill faster because he was holding other riders up and screwing up a particular scene. The "bloke" (honestly, I don't think Trevor knows the names of the actors that he worked with) told Trevor that Trevor couldn't tell HIM what to do. Anyway it turns out this bloke admitted he was scared, that he'd never galloped a horse flat out, (not to mention downhill), had just learned to ride in Wellington for the movie. So Trevor gave him some coaching, had him gallop uphill (easier) to get used to it, and after they did that, the bloke found he enjoyed it. He trusted and listened to Trevor after that, and he gained great confidence in his own riding.

Trevor also got to be one of the black riders (!!), got to fight Orcs, got to do lots of horse and battle scenes, as did Picksy, got to die once or twice, was one of the Rohirrim when they surrounded "that guy" (Aragorn) and "the wee little dwarf" (Gimli) and "the blond guy that shot the arrows" (Legolas). He was right in the thick of the filming because he held Eomer's spear. In this scene where the Rohirrim galloped up to and surrounded the three heroes, the "wee dwarf" was scared when Trevor galloped down to him and skidded to a stop right in front of him, because his horse's (not Picksy on this day) bit broke and was hanging out of his mouth. They did another take or 2, (Trevor stopped his horse by his breast collar each time), and Gimli was so flummoxed by the bit hanging out of this horse's mouth that he couldn't concentrate on his lines.

Trevor remembered everything as if it happened just yesterday, when it was about 5-6 years ago already. He could have talked on for hours and I could have listened for hours! His stories were just as fascinating as the documentaries that accompany the extended versions of the movies, which included a good piece on the horses and riders - which I don't know that Trevor has ever seen.

Now who would have guessed I'd be a guest of a Lord of the Rings extra horseman!

Okay, peel me back to the present and endurance...

We hopped on Trevor's 4-wheeler and took a tour of his 300-acre farm that's been in his family for 4 generations. He's got 3 Arabian stallions, the gorgeous black one, 14-year-old Cherox Egyptian Harmony; a gray one Whitestone's Silver Flame, (24); and a bay one Ralvon Outback (5 or 6), bred by the renowned Ron Males of Australia. It's a little early to turn the stallions out with the mares, though the gray and bay stallions are already out with their bands. Here, with seasons opposite to the U.S., they want to drop foals about mid-Nov through January (official birthdays for all Arabs are Aug 1).

We went from paddock to paddock, up and down hills, horses here, cattle there, deer there, the different species mixing together at will. The horses and deer don't mind each other, and Trevor's stallion Harmony likes hanging out in the middle of a mob of deer and will play with them. The deer are raised for meat, though the market is down now. Wool is good right now only for keeping the sheep warm in the winter (no market for it), so they are mainly used for meat.

Trevor knows all his breeding backwards and forwards, what he's got, what direction he's headed. He really doesn't like to take in outside mares to breed because it really is more of a pain than anything else. He'd rather foal out his own mares and sell the foals. His uncle Brian got into breeding Arabs, and did a bit of endurance, as such, as it was back then. He just loved to produce foals, and he always gave people a great deal, either on the breedings or the foals themselves.

Trevor's been around horses all his life, got into endurance about 8 or 9 years ago. He's broken in horses here in New Zealand, in Australia, and the UAE, (he likes the challenge of the problem ones) and this season he's got 18 of his own young ones to break in. He makes it sound easy (and I think that's because he's a good horseman)... I'd like to watch his methods.

There's a strip of coal running through his land that he reckons will eventually get sold to the government... in which case he'd get a good bit of money "to buy a bigger place for more horses." But that would be selling what's been in his family for so long, and where would he find such a perfect place? This spot gets the best weather, he can raise all his horses on grass - no hay or hard feed (grain), and the youngsters develop good balance running up and down the hills.

If that isn't enough, it's just a great place to sit on the porch and live and breathe horses in New Zealand!

Mt Horrible

Wednesday March 21 2007

MT HORRIBLE

At 11:30 Linda and I loaded up Abigail and Savannah, and hauled them a few miles down the road toward Mt Horrible. The name has to do with the Maori wars before the Europeans came. I thought it was going to be in the big mountain range quite a ways away, but it turned out to be a little hill, barely distinguishable from the surrounding rolling hills and farmland, until you got to it and went up it. It was a nice uphill climb for the horses, and we trotted all the way up. I rode Abigail, a very nice mare, smooth and responsive, that will be going to the Nationals in two weeks and doing the 100 km.

New Zealand has adopted the FEI endurance rules and goes by them for all their rides. Here horses must do 2 novice 40 kms, then 2 novice 80 kms before they are qualified for open rides (as do riders). David and Sandy Marshall one day held an 80 km ride, and two 40 km rides, one in the morning and one in the afternoon - you could bang out your 40 kms in one day for a horse. This is Abigail's 3rd season of competing; she's done enough 40 and 80 k's and is ready to move up in distance.

Linda is a resolute trainer - it's always business for the horses on a training ride. Straight ahead, carry on, stay the same speed, which is 10 km/hr, (about 6 mph, just what we do in the US) on sand, grass, pavement, up hills, down hills, or on the flat. If you must spook, do it while carrying on. There's no stopping to smell the roses, or horse poop, like Stormy likes to do. (Of course, Stormy doesn't trot 10 km/hr either.) In the rides Linda's horses start out going their well-schooled 10 km/hr, and the pace picks up every loop on the ride, according to the horse's condition and ability.

Linda said she'd let me lead at the speed I wanted to go, since I was on the leader of the two horses, but heck no! I wanted to know what she did, not me try to guess what was best. We walked the horses a mile or two till we got to where the road started climbing, and we took off at a 10 km/hr trot, all the way up to the top. Most of the time we trotted on the pavement of the country roads - you can find some grass shoulders to trot on, but it's deep grass, with what underneath you aren't sure, so sometimes you're just forced to trot or canter on roads. Fortunately there wasn't much traffic, because here, as on the North Island where the Horse of the Year endurance ride took place, people don't appear to slow down much for horses. We did wear bright yellow safety vests to attract more attention from motorists though I doubt that makes a difference to them. We passed farms of sheep and cattle, and a few goats, rolling green hills, with the mountain range to our north-west, and the sea to our right. The horses broke a little sweat in the cool overcast day, but they powered right on up the hill. At the top, we turned around and powered right back down the pavement, 10 km/hr, stopping for a few pictures (the Raven came along again), and slowing to a walk on the downhills when it had sprinkled just enough to make the road a bit slicker. Abigail was a fine, smooth, fun and willing ride and it will be fun to see how she does in the Nationals.

Back home, after lunch we went out and cleaned another paddock of 10 bags of pony poo. We were supposed to go meet the neighbors - Morgan horses and Icelandic pony farms, but we ran out of time. Rebecca and Monica showed up, and without Linda we took 3 horses out. I rode Razzy, Linda's HOY 7th place endurance mare. She's a crabby ol' mare, the boss of the herd, will kick at anybody, and pin her ears at you when you saddle her, but she doesn't really mean it. She's a really nice horse, a lovely ride, very light and all business. We spent about an hour and a half riding in a big circle (circles? I was very lost) from the house. Almost all the ride was on the pavement, and when we'd hear cars coming, we'd pull over to the side as far as we could, because on a whole, vehicles do NOT slow down for horses. Which I find bizarre, as this is and always has been a farming community, and what with that and the Kiwis being so friendly, you'd think they'd have the common sense to slow down for people on horseback. Razzy was handling everything just fine, but Monica and Rebecca were on younger horses. Once we heard a truck coming up a hill around a corner towards us, and we motioned him to slow down. Well, Mr Cranky Truck driver wasn't so happy that he had to stop. "You shouldn't be out on this road! This is the third time I've had to stop for horses!" (Is that such a horrible thing?) The girls had a discussion with him, explaining that the horses were young, there really isn't a horse path near here to ride on, and the law says to slow down for horses. "Really?" He had no idea. The girls told me there was even an advertisement on TV to make drivers aware of slowing down - really, isn't it common sense? People must slow down for school buses - hopefully that law (common sense) happened before some young child was killed. So will a horse rider have to be killed before people learn to slow down for horses? I hope not. Less than half all the vehicles we met slowed down at all or moved into the other lane giving us more room, and I figured those were parents of young girl riders! We've been really lucky in the states, especially in the desert, where nearly all the motorbikes and 4-wheelers slow down for horses, and a good number even turn their motors off. I just find it quite puzzling here.

We got back just at dark, turned the horses out to their grain, and Linda had an amazing meal of potatoes and sausage and marrow (a kind of squash) and silver beet (like a spinch-kale) waiting. Rebecca stayed for dinner, and she showed me some scars on her ankle - a horse had flipped over backwards on her (a mare in heat who didn't like being disciplined), badly broke her ankle, cracked her femur, a couple of ribs. She had 6 hours of surgery, was in the hospital two and a half weeks, and was back riding as soon as she could. It happened only 6 months ago!

Ah, what we obsessed riders go through to get back on our horses...

Timaru

Tuesday March 20 2007

Linda Pullar, my host here on the coast of the South Island in Timaru, has 19 horses, a big farm on a hill, and boarding pastures down the road - 10 acres all together, with a view to the South Pacific Ocean not far away. Timaru is the birthplace of Pharlap! He was bred and born here, and sold to Australia as a yearling. Linda rode as a young girl, got away from horses as she raised her 3 daughters, then as one of her young daughters developed an interest in horses, she got back into them also. Linda started endurance about 10 years ago. For her it's a business; she doesn't let herself get attached to them. Her goal is to bring horses along and sell them overseas to pay for next season's endurance. She teaches lessons, and she also runs her own business of producing phone book covers, selling advertising space on them.

After arriving at Linda's home at 11 AM Tuesday, I was desperate for a New Zealand adapter for my computers and cameras. I have one European adaptor, and a "Universal" adaptor, the Universe of which apparently does not include New Zealand! Linda loaned me her car and turned me loose, and I drove into town to find one. This wasn't my first attempt at driving on the left side of the road - I'd done it across South Africa 11 years ago... but I kept telling myself, "GAUCHE!" which is left in French, which was the word Carol and I kept yelling at Leonard in Napier-Hastings as he sometimes forgot that he was supposed to be on the left instead of the right. The roundabouts would be confusing enough if they drove on the right side of the road, but I escaped them unscathed. I also had to parallel park on the left side! And the steering wheel is on the right, for an added challenge. I was also very careful not to get Linda a parking ticket and skip town.

All went well, I found an adaptor quickly, and stopped at McDonalds, not for food, but for an ICED Coke. I had to ask the lady to fill the cup with ice. "More ice?" She looked at me as if I were daft. "Yes! Fill it up with ice!" And I got a half cup of ice with my coke, which I greatly enjoyed. You can't get a cup of ice in any hotel or grocery store or gas station anywhere. I think nobody in New Zealand ever craves a cup of ice with their drinks. Oh well, I guess I'll stick to my lukewarm water.

Back to the farm, a bit of work for me on the computer because I am so far behind, then I went out to help Linda pick the horse poop out of the lower pastures. We scooped it into a cart pulled by a 4-wheeler, then bagged it up (8 bags!) and took it to the bottom of the drive, where she leaves it out for people to pick up at $2 a bag. There's an Honesty Box down by the poop, where people mostly leave their $2 when they pick up a bag. I don't think there are too many places where you can do that. The Bedouins might be that honest.

In the afternoon, Rebecca and Judith came over to ride with us. We headed down the road a mile or two to Linda's other property where she boards horses, and we took 4 out for a short ride - Monica drove up and joined us. My mount Babe, a Thoroughbred bred off the track, wasn't used to going out in a group, so we spent the ride walking, making sure she didn't get too excited. But that was fine, because it was still the Raven's and my first ride in New Zealand! More trails to ride tomorrow!

Epic Journey to the South Island

Monday-Tuesday 3/19-20/2007

Change of plans... instead of travelling around New Zealand for a week with Steph before she took off, suddenly she would head back to Auckland then jet off to Paris, while I'd stay on in New Zealand for a month. I found out from Paul Jeffrey (who's working with Steph and endurance.net, and is a New Zealand endurance rider/breeder) Saturday evening that he'd arranged for me to leave early in the morning to catch a ride with some endurance people to and around the South Island until the Nationals on the North Island in 3 weeks.

This involved some slight panic in packing, sorting computers and programs and procedures out, keeping the Spaniards awake (again!) long into the night, before waking off little sleep again to catch a taxi to the Horse of the Year show. I'd be hitching a ride south with David Marshall and Sandy and their son Trent, getting handed off to endurance rider Linda Pullar, who'd take me down to Timaru to her farm for a few days before handing me off to other riders. Okay - sure!

After spending Sunday wandering around absorbing the horse show again, I helped David and Sandy load up their float (trailer) and 2 horses, and we hit the road at 4:30 PM. When the North and South Islanders compete on the other's islands, it involves lots of slow driving on 2-lane winding roads on both islands and a 3 1/2 hour ferry ride between Wellington on the North Island and Picton on the South Island. I rode for a while in the truck cab with Sandy and huge grey-blue-eyed Trent who stared and stared at me ("who are you and why are you in my truck?") and grinned his cherubic grin ("I don't know why you're here but you're alright"). For the first couple of hours the wind was blowing a gale and with that and a few hills to climb, Sandy could drive no faster than 40 mph much of the way. After a stop for petrol I switched to riding in the float with the horses - I snoozed on the bed facing the two beasts.

When the float stopped I woke up completely disoriented; when I stepped out in the dark we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, unloading the horses and talking to someone. Turns out it was a sheep farm near Levin, (was a lovely place when I saw it in the morning) where Linda Pullar was staying the night with her cousins and resting her horse overnight. David and Sandy would snooze briefly then continue driving to Wellington where they'd board the ferry they were booked on at 2 AM. Linda was booked on the ferry the next day at 1 PM. I crawled into a bed in the house and passed out, and woke up the next morning, surprising the cousins Marie and Peter and their visiting family Max and Judy, who graciously welcomed me there. Linda and I loaded up her horse Razzy (they finished 7th in the HOY Endurance ride) and left at 9:00 AM, driving down to and near the Kapiti Coast and the green Tasman Sea, and arrived in Wellington at 10:30. We drove into downtown Wellington, where the ferry was right there on the water - oh my, the Raven and I were in Wellington New Zealand!

Linda's was the first float to line up for the ferry, and we had time to go grab a cappuchino at the train station and people-watch. By the time we returned to the ferry, many other horse floats had pulled up, all from the Horse of the Year show, headed back home to the South Island. One hunter-seat lady had her big gray warmblood out stretching his legs on the ferry dock. He dropped a load right by our float, and one of the ferrymen asked us if we'd pick it up. Sure mate!

We started loading onto the ferry at 1 PM, and it was a bit of chaos. We led the way in, driving in forward, making a half-loop on the parking deck and having to back up against the back wall to face out. Linda would have backed up, but she was a bit worried about backing too far into the wall, so she asked one of the ferrymen to back it up for her, assuming he'd be able to just back it right up. Well, backing a horse trailer was not his specialty. He went back and forward (first time he put the SUV in neutral, which I brought to his attention), back and forward, hitting the brakes hard, getting yelled at by his foreman (3 of them were yelling at each other), and meanwhile 2 other trailers are backing up into the slots on either side of us, and one lady was also getting yelled at. Our poor driver just didn't have a knack for backing at all, and he mumbled "Not really having a good day today, coming to the end of our 48 hour shift..." as he hit the brakes and got yelled at to move forward and try it again. Linda was looking a bit terrified for her horse, and I was a bit petrified also in the passenger seat, but was afraid to tell the guy I'd back it up for him, but then, maybe he was pleading for someone to offer just that! After 5 minutes of pandemonium, the foreman finally yelled "STOP!" and the driver practically leaped out of the car. Poor Razzy! She took it well, but then, what could she do, stuck in a horse trailer.

We offered Razzy a drink, then left the parking garage (where other horse floats, and travel trailers, and a double-bed 18-wheeler were rolling in and backing up) for the upper decks, where we went to the back of the ferry, facing Wellington. It was a beautiful pleasant sunny day - hopefully it would not be too windy, because I just found out it was a 3 1/2 hour ferry ride, and the crossing could be so rough at times the ferry was cancelled. And here I am, prone to getting seasick at the slightest rocking of the boat (very annoying!), with my seasick pills buried in my suitcase which was buried in the bottom of Linda's boot, on the car deck where people weren't allowed during sailing. I snuck a seasick bag into my pocket, and made sure I knew where the toilets were just in case I was going to embarrass myself later.

I didn't! We had a wonderfully calm passage, about an hour getting leaving the North Island - getting out of the bay at Wellington and around Cape Terawhiti, about an hour crossing Cook Strait (one fellow passenger said "This can be one of the worst crossings anywhere, when the wind travels up the Strait just right"), and about an hour along the South Island, cruising some channels into Queen Charlotte Sound (Totaranui), where the passage narrowed at places to where you could almost touch the islands on both sides. I went to the front of the boat through some of these and got wind-blasted (it wasn't freezing like ferries usually are, but I was glad I had a good jacket on). It was beautiful, the islands rising out of the water looming over us. We chatted with some passengers, one couple laughing at my pictures of the Raven. They had their own Ragdoll (in the car downstairs for this passage) who travels around getting its picture taken. I saw a good bit of logging - plenty of clear cuts on the steep hills, some forest replantings, many 2nd growth forests. Some of the islands had little cabins on the shore, accessible only by boat. I guess if you were marooned here for a while, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

We pulled into the little ferry town of Picton on at 4:30, and were on the South Island (!!) and the road by 5. Razzy was very relaxed, (Linda offered her water again before we drove off the ferry) so Linda decided to drive down the road a ways before stopping to let her off to stretch her legs. The road wound around the forested (many logged) hills, and eventually we came to a flat agricultural valley - corn and fruit orchards - before moving into grassland hills - lots of sheep and cattle. The road after reaching the grassy hills became winding again, and it swirled back and forth, around this way and back around that way, on and on. We had stopped in Ward and let Razzy out for a few minutes in a big grassy park, walked her around for a while and gave her water, then loaded back up. The road then took us to the coast, and the road got more winding, like highway 101, the US west coast highway. Beautiful with the waves breaking on the rocks and reefs and shore right below us in the evening sky, but so winding - it must have been so tiring for Razzy (and David and Sandy, who also lived down this way). And narrow - always a 2-lane road, only a few places now and then where a passing lane was available. We were headed for Christchurch, where one of Linda's daughter lives, where Razzy could be turned out overnight for a rest again and we could have a good sleep. It got dark, and eventually the road left the coast - and here was where it got REALLY winding! 15 mph curves, around one way then the other. On and on the road went, and then on and on some more. Linda was well awake (and used to the drive), but I had to close my eyes now and then. Linda said we'd stop for coffee... but now it was 9 PM and all these sleepy little towns were asleep. There wasn't a great amount of traffic on the road, but a fair amount of 18-wheelers. We finally did come to a place where we filled up on petrol, and she got coffee and I got sandwich and the mango-mix pure juice that I've quickly become addicted to. (No ice available anywhere!)

And the road went on and on... and at last the lights of Christchurch appeared in the sky. We drove around the outskirts and near 11 PM pulled into her daughter's farm, where we unloaded Razzy, threw a second heavy canvas blanket on her (we wouldn't blanket our horses at all), and turned her out into a paddock where, I'm sure, after 13 hours on the float with a short break, she passed out, like we did, sneaking into the quiet house, and going right to sleep. I think I took my shoes off before I passed out on top of my bed.

Tuesday morning Linda woke me at 7 (I might've slept till 7 the next morning if she hadn't), and I wandered to the living room where Esther and Arthur and baby Thomas were having coffee and breakfast. We loaded up Razzy (took her blankets off, because even though it was cool right now, it would get warmer, and put on her 4 shipping boots), and left at 8:30 AM. From here, Christchurch down to Timaru, highway 1, was straight, and often 4 lanes, and no wind, (though this area was known for wind), so we were able to cruise right along. On the North Island, the area around Hastings is known as "The Fruit Bowl of New Zealand" - rich in agriculture: apples (bursting off the trees right now, reading for picking), oranges, peaches, grapes (many wineries), veggies. This area of the South Island is flat plains well watered by the big river drainages - the Rakaia River, the Rangitata River - coming from mountain ranges fingering off the Southern Alps (Ka Tiritiri O Te Moana). It's rich in dairy cattle, hay, corn, and horse farms. We passed farms of Standardbreds, draft horses, Thoroughbreds, also some alpacas. We passed numerous fairgrounds and racetracks on our journey - flat Thoroughbred racing and Standardbred harness racing appears to be quite popular in New Zealand.

We stopped for petrol again, cappuchinos and yummy pastries, and arrived in Timaru on the sea (South Pacific Ocean) about 2 1/2 hours later around 11 AM. So, in total, that was approximately 19 hours of travel for Razzy in the horse box. (David and Sandy live near Christchurch, so maybe 2 hours less travel time). I guess that's not so different from hauling from southern California to Idaho for a ride, stopping once or twice along the way, but I'd call it quite the grueling trip. The Kiwis' North and South Island Championships alternate between islands every year, as do the Nationals. Horse of the Year is always in Hastings on the North Island, so this long trip is made 1 to 3 times a year. Not so bad, I guess. The South Islanders will be turning right around in 2 weeks and heading back to the North Island for the Nationals, which will be not quite as far as Hastings.

As we drove up the drive to Linda's house, her 3 endurance horses (who'd stayed here on the South Island and done a local ride the same weekend) kicked up their heels and ran alongside, waiting for Razzy to unload and join them. We turned her loose, and they galloped up and down the lane a while. Then we threw a bale of hay out in the upper pasture and let the horses out there, and they all took to tearing around, tails over their backs, sprinting back and forth, skidding to stops, leaping in the air, and taking off together again. I'd say they were happy to be reunited to tell their ride stories.

New Zealand Horse of the Year Show Weekend

Sunday March 18 2007

Saturday about 2 dozen endurance riders mounted up and headed over to the main jumping stadium at 1 PM for awards and a bit of a closing ceremony. They all entered the stadium to the always-played tune “Stand Up For The Champions” (the same tune that Namibia played over and over when Steph was there last year - it's a catchy tune that sticks in your head) and trotted around the big jumps as the announcer talked about the endurance ride. Then all the riders lined up in front, and the BC winner was announced – the gorgeous chestnut Highlander ridden by Lois! The team placings were announced (winners were the Kiwis), and everybody had a good trot ‘round the stadium again.

The group of us got some lunch and sat in the beer tent; Paco and the Raven (who came along to enjoy the festivities) got on well. Paco said the chef d’equipe of Spain thinks that Ravens are good luck (well of course!), so Paco figures the Raven helped him win his medal. Paco wants a Raven if I ever stumble upon one again (don’t think they are made anymore). I said I’d bring the Raven to Spain… because it looks like I may be going to Spain for a ride this summer.

Then we had a day to play at the showgrounds with the thousands of other people here. It appeared to be a very successful and popular 54th Horse of the Year show. My eyeballs were popping out all over the place at the magnificent horses walking all around me. You know how I always want to touch things, well, I wanted to reach out and touch all of them that walked by me! But I figured that wouldn't go over so well.

There was so much to see! Some fantastic dressage, more jumping, driving classes, and those oh-so-fun mounted games (I want to do this!) on crazy ponies. We missed the cross-country, but we stumbled upon trick riders in the main arena - these guys and girls were crazy! A path was roped off outside of the jumps, and these trick horses sprinted flat out around this path while the riders flipped over both sides, upside down, hanging off the side, 2 riders at once, one backwards, one upside down. When the riders would be waiting to take off, the horses couldn’t stand still; they’d be wheeling and rearing and spinning and leaping, till they shot forward, heading for that first corner, ears flat back, racehorse-sprinting, leaning into the turns (usually with a rider hanging backwards off the side), dirt clods flying up in the air. Texas cowboy music was playing in the background, like the Yippee-Ay-A song, and the announcer was hollering into the microphone like it was an old Wild West Show. He said the horses were headed for the meat market before they were saved and recruited for this trick riding. One of the girls fell off when her saddle slipped - she ran after the horse and he was resaddled (while another horse and rider sprinted around), and she jumped right back on and did her death-defying hang off the side of the runaway horse (saddle firmly in place this time). They were pretty excited horses – they'd rear and bounce on their hind legs till they were turned loose to run, and when they’d sprint the circle path, instead of making the fourth turn to go round again, they’d go straight ahead and crash into their waiting buddies. One especially hyped up horse, leaping and spinning, made his way to the front of the crowd, and suddenly calmed down to do his trick: he went down on his knee and rolled over and played dead. The rider climbed all over him, laid down and rested on him; 3 young girls from the audience were brought out and sat on him; the rider laid out full length on top of him, and the horse never twitched, till he was asked to get up, at which point the rider jumped on, and he amped right back up and took off like a shot, tearing around the ring again. Crazy horses and riders! My favorite was Charlie, who had some draft horse in him – he ran as hard and as fast as he could, but it wasn’t such a fast death sprint. Charlie was more my speed – maybe I could have stayed on Charlie’s back! The Raven had a great time watching them.

Sunday was more entertainment, the same classes, different classes, and the exciting Mounted Games; and then there were Clydesdale riding classes, pulling classes, show classes. Stand on one corner, and watch big warmblood jumpers on one side and pony jumpers on the other; draft horses pulling sleds on the other and paint show classes on the other.

There were also shops of everything Horse you could imagine or want: riding clothes, raingear, hats, helmets, Zilco tack, show gear, saddles, hoof products, vitamins, feeds, magazines, leg boots, cool vests, horse blankets, Dick Wicks (I am not making this up - they make magnetic blankets), photos, paintings, drawings, tea samples, elecric fences, trailers, adopt-a-grayhound, solutions and advice for your problem horses...

Seeing all this magnificent horseflesh, and missing Stormy, I naturally wondered about shipping him on over to New Zealand next year and entering him in and winning some of these classes. He already knows how to wear the ribbons he'd win, as he's carried trail marking ribbons before and thinks he looks pretty cool with them fluttering off his neck and breast collar. Now we'd just have to pick the classes we'd want to win.

Hmm, wouldn’t that be a kick if Stormy and I could look as good as some of these great horses doing dressage... Stormy can bow his neck real good, that's half the battle, right? Although I think he'd have to do a little more than eat with his neck bowed in the arena. I think we'd both have to work too much for dressage - Stormy’s dreadfully lazy (he’s convinced he’s retired from everything but eating), and I just stink as a correct rider. Plus, to think of the years and years of walking and trotting and cantering in an arena… nope, couldn’t do it (me or Stormy). I’ll just enjoy watching it and appreciate the years the riders and horses have put in. Maybe we could enter the Clydesdale riding classes... Stormy's not quite as tall, but after a good summer and spring, he can easily match their roundness. The Clydesdales were about Stormy's speed - slow motion. But that was only because they're big, and Stormy's slow because he's lazy. High stepping, the big draft horses leisurely wound figure 8's around cones and turned wide corners through ground poles. Stormy would make the same big slow and wide turns because he's lethargic. The Clydesdales did have beautiful big feathery legs, which Stormy doesn't have. I know Stormy could win all the halter classes - he's obviously The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet. He knows how to pose (for a camera), and he actually does know how to stand still. But, on second thought, he HATES to be groomed, and all those horses looked shiny and polished, and not one extra long winter hair on them. And on third thought, those horses looked very trim. Stormy wouldn't be able to suck his gut in. Guess we'll skip the halter classes too.

Those Mounted Games (the most popular event on Friday) looked the most fun! I'd have to get a pony for that, because Stormy would just refuse. I don't think he can sprint anymore, and he sure can't turn on a dime. I don't know if I could stay in the saddle myself, leaning halfway out of it to pop a balloon or spear a bucket or ring at a gallop, but one day I want to give it a try! I'll just leave Stormy at home wearing his Most Beatiful Horse on the Planet ribbons in his unkempt mane, bowing his neck to eat another bale of hay.