Walk Across Spain

Thursday March 19 2009

Step outside in the morning on the balcony of El Moli (the Mill) outside of the small village of San Julia de Vilatorte in this corner of Catalonia, Spain, and breathe deeply of the crisp clean air under the bright early sunshine. it is bracing, fragrant with spring and a nuance of... pig doo.

This area produces a lot of pigs, and I dare say, a lot of pig fertilizer that is used on the ample farmland. It's not enough to make you gag, but just enough to put a slight crinkle in your brow, or raise an eyebrow, or wrinkle your nose just a bit, depending on which way the wind blows.

But anyway...

Put on your hiking shoes, grab your backpack and your walking poles (or, in my case, the Raven), and head out across Spain. Or Europe, for that matter. How about destination: Poland, or Norway?

I started right outside El Moli, walking the Ruta dels Moulins trail along the creek, which soon joined up with the GR2 Footpath.

The GR Footpaths in France and Belgium (Grande Randonne'e), Holland (Grote Routepaden), Portugal (Grande Rota), and Spain (Gran Recorrido) are a network of long-distance hiking trails in Europe, that are connected with the European "extremely" long-distance footpaths, covering 60,000 km, that will take you in every conceivable direction over Europe: middle of Norway to the middle of Italy, tip of Greece to the bottom of Spain, Ireland, Great Britain, top of Finland to tip of Turkey, Portugal to Estonia or Poland.

Designed by the European Ramblers' Association, founded in Germany in 1969, today it is composed of 50 ramblers' organizations from 26 European states, with over 5 million individual members. The local ramblers' organizations maintain the paths, markings, huts and campsites along their routes, some of which have been in existence for over 100 years; work on preserving rights of way; and promote the history and culture of the areas through which the trails pass.

The trails vary from forest trails to paths along fields, roads through villages, dirt roads between fields; past old Roman ruins, old mills, castles, farms. You can follow the silk routes of Europe, the Troubadour routes, the European parks and Garden route, the Wenceslav route, or the Hanseatic route.

Simple markings indicate the route, on tree trunks, rocks, walls, signposts, or on the ground, of (most often) red and white paint: white stripe over red stripe indicates the correct path; a red and white "X" indicates the wrong direction. They aren't always easy to see, (for instance, sometimes a tree trunk is overgrown by vines), and sometimes you take a wrong fork in the trail or road a dozen yards before turning around to try another fork or two until you find the correct way.

The Raven and I followed our GR2 path skirting Sant Julia on side paved roads, then onto dirt roads and trails between planted fields. After we passed a private castle and some old pig farm sheds, the route began climbing, until we had a decent view of Sant Julia in the distance below us.

I don't think horses are prohibited, although I didn't see any signs of horses; though on another part of the GR2, Paul used to ride his New Zealand horses. That was a good long stretch, and good underfoot, though the area I walked had a lot of pavement, and plenty of stones on the trails. I met two other walkers today, and have seen bicycles on the trails also.

And the route went on - beckoning to just come around the next corner, just come over this next hill. And after that - just one more corner, just one more hill. And then the next one... Indeed, we could have just kept going. I think Norway would have been our ultimate destination. : )

Spain: Ruta dels Moulins

Wednesday March 18 2009

In the region east of Vic, Spain (an hour north of Barcelona), you can follow, for about 2 miles, the Ruta dels Moulins - the Route of the Mills - a series of old canals and mills that used the water flow from the spring-and-run-off-fed creek, to grind wheat and sharpen farm tools over the centuries. Many of the old mills have been restored and are now residences, having first been built between the 12th and 16th centuries. Some are crumbling and disingegrating ruins, half hidden under vines.

El Molí de la Calvaria, where I'm staying, has evidence that the old lock was built in the 11th century; the first document is from 1236 AD. The original mill is on the ground floor, and the house above was built in the 16th century. Above the door is carved in stone: IHSENMO TI CALVARI MORT DELS DE ASI TE RECORT, in probably a mix of some old Catalon and Latin, meaning, roughly, "The Dead here will think of you," which I'm sure is meant to be some sort of blessing. (Or, if you try googling the translation: "...agony of death by now well pruned." Hmmm...)The inscription is, you can still clearly see, from 1596. The mill is now a museum, and the owner still runs it on Sundays to show how it worked (and to feed the resident ducks with the seeds : ). A lock is opened in the retention pond, water is funneled under the mill to turn the two large wheels (and a smaller one outside, connected to a small circular stone, which was used to sharpen tools), which turn the millstones in the mill, which grind the wheat.

The millstones have grooves, or furrows, separating flat areas, or lands. The grooves furnish cutting edges and channel the ground flour out from the stones as the wheels turn. The furrows and lands are carved in repeating patterns, or harps. This millstone has 8 harps.

Outside the ground floor mill doors, there are still the ancient iron rings in the stone walls where you can tie up your horses while you visit. : )

Raid del CRON - 120 km CEI**

Saturday March 14 2009

Head north from Barcelona, Spain, for about an hour to Vic, and from there take a smaller highway and some side roads further north; take a left on a smaller road and then take a right on a still-smaller road, and then one more left on a tiny winding road, and you'll end up between the little villages of Sant Pere de Torello and Sant Vincenc de Torello, where you'll find, over this lovely spring weekend in March, the Raid del Cron - the Club de Raid Osona Nord.

It was not the Catalon Championship as it had been the past few years, but it was an exceptional CEI** 120 km ride, held for the 14th year. Exceptional for the completion rate (over 70%), the weather, the organization, the prizes, and most of all, the pleasant, friendly, relaxed atmosphere. Really, the Spaniards know how to put on an endurance ride.

Some of the top Spanish riders were at an endurance ride in Badajoz, Spain, this same weekend, but there was still an ample herd of 54 with very capable riders queued up at the starting line under the red balloon arch at 7:30 AM Saturday morning. Three foreign riders joined the fray: Denis Pesce and Marilyn Lemoine from France, riding horses that each completed a 120 km in France last year; and 72-years-young Mitsuko Masui from Japan, riding the 10-year-old gelding Rhaver. She'd be riding with Juma Punti's Team of 5, headed by Marc Costa. Mitsuko has been coming to Europe (and the UAE) to ride endurance races since 2003; this was her first race in Spain, and she was accompanied by her regular groom/crew and good friend, Gaella from Stephane Chazel's stable in France.

There was a damp chill in the air, a touch of frost on the grass, and a slight fog before the sun reached the raid grounds. The horses were warmed up well - all were handwalked for a good 15 minutes before anybody ever mounted up, then they were ridden for 15 minutes before the start. New Orleans jazz played on the loudspeakers at a pleasant volume, and those people not helping the riders stood around chatting. There were quite a few smiles on faces as the riders started on their first kilometer of the day, and the horses all looked eager and quite sane.

I jumped in my great little diesel VW car and raced behind a line of crew cars to the first Assistencia point for this 32 km first loop. The sun was trying to burn through a layer of fog, leaving dew on the grass, while crows cawed and knocked and quorked in the nearby trees. The crews gathered around and had a good time telling stories, and though it seemed a little chilly yet for pouring water on horses, a few people began inching down the trail with their water bottles in the direction from which the horses would come - there just might be a small advantage if you can get water to your rider just a little sooner before the other riders get theirs.

Cesar Tasias on Oliver TB was the first one to canter by with a 5-minute lead, and then the rest of the riders, flowing past in a steady stream. Near the very back of the pack came the team in orange, Juma's Team, with Mitsuko Masui tucked neatly in with them.

After they passed I ran to my car to follow their crew, as I had no idea where I was driving to next. By the time I got in my car, Juma's van was gone, so I followed a few other cars and we raced off. Now, it seems to be a prerequisite for crewing assistence in Europe to, at some point, 1) be on one-lane (and narrow one-lane, at that) winding roads with blind curves so you can go really fast, and 2) to get lost at some point. Not because of bad directions on the map, but because I wasn't following the map, and I was following some other people who weren't following the map. They realized it was the wrong way, and we each made a 12-point turn on the narrow road and raced back the other way; and suddenly we started meeting the crew cars for the leading riders, coming back our direction on the narrow winding one-lane road. We got into a long jam - nobody could go forward or backward in either direction - and while they tried to figure it out up ahead of me with inches to spare, since I was the last car, I just backed up onto a side road and turned around and waited to follow the leaders' cars on to the next point. I think a few of those cars are probably still stuck on that road.

I raced onward behind my new leaders in the correct direction, to the little village of Sant Pere de Torello, dominated by the Santuari de Nostra Senyora de Bellmunt. It is perhaps significant to note that Sant Pere was, some time before the 1930's, very famous for the manufacture of cowbells.

The crew point was in a pleasant park by a creek, and it was warm enough now, and the pace honest enough - the leaders moving along at over 15 kph - that the horses all got doused with water, and most of them stopped for a drink. For the riders it was only 7 km back to camp for the first 30 minute vet check. 38 minutes separated the first and last horses in, and there were no pulls after this first loop.

Cesar Tasias and Oliver TB led out on the 28-km Loop 2 by 5 minutes over Marta Pujadas on Volvo, with seven more in hot pursuit within the next 2 minutes.

Conveniently for the crews, both assistance points for Loop 2 were at the same spot, on top of a small hill, overlooking green fields, a ridge of the Pyrenees mountains to the east and the west, and the Santuari de Puig-agut to the south, completed in 1886. The riders arrived at this crew point after 11 km, did a loop of 17 km, and passed through the same crew point again before returning home by the same path.

Tasias and Oliver TB led through the crew point the first time, but on the return pass-through, Javier Maxenchs was slightly in the lead on his big palomino Walker. At last year's 9-day Tierras de Al-Andalus raid, Maxenchs finished 1st on Walker on the final day, and 11th overall riding Walker and another horse in the Equipos. Maxenchs arrived back at the vet check in camp 2 minutes ahead of Tasias, but Walker took 7:22 to pulse down, to Oliver TB's 1:44, which dropped Walker back to 7th place, but only 5 minutes behind Tasias. 8 riders, including Maxenchs, left within 2 minutes of each other. 5 horses were eliminated at vet gate 2.

Loop 3 was a repeat of Loop 1, 32 km, and once again, Maxenchs and Walker were in the lead arriving back at the 3rd vet gate, just 16 seconds ahead of Alexandra Dachs and Falco de Masferrer. Once again, it took Walker a long time to pulse down - 13 minutes - which dropped him back to 8th place, which left Dachs a 5 minute lead on the final loop of 28 km. She took off at a gallop.

In hot pursuit and almost close enough to touch each other were Marta Pujadas on Volvo, Alex Luque on Sankoc, Cesar Tasias on Oliver TB, David Fernandez on Enia, Rut Comas on Sahara, and Pol Abril on Lucero Miki, a 7-year-old gelding who finished 25th in last year's Raid del Cron. All these riders had averaged over 15 kph for the first 3 loops. Six more horses were eliminated from the race after loop 3.

The weather never got as hot as most people had feared; by the hottest part of the day, it was only about 25*C. There were a lot of horses with a rather substantial coat of hair, some partially clipped, some not at all.

The final 28-km Loop 4 was the same as Loop 2 - the same double-assistencia point for crews, and the same path for the riders, only with the out-and-back-to-assistence-point loop a change of direction), Alejandra Dachs came galloping through in the lead the first time, pony tail whipping in the wind, smile on her face as she grabbed water bottles from her crew and kept going. Her horse was showing signs of tiredness however, as she was shaking the reins at him every few strides. Tracking only a few minutes behind her were Alex Luque and Marta Pujadas cantering together, followed closely by David Fernandez. Pol Abril, then Cesar Tasias were next, all those horses looking like they had plenty of gas left in the tank.

After the 6-km loop, coming back through the assistance point, Alex and Marta had taken over the lead, still moving at a comfortable canter, with Alejandra in view just over their shoulder, and trying to keep up. Pol Abril had moved into fourth, with just 11 km left till the finish.

Back at camp, a crowd was gathered around the finish line. A murmur started rippling through - the horses were getting close! The last 40 yards were on a curve on a dirt track, wide enough for maybe 7 horses, so there wasn't a view of who was coming, or how many together.

And right then, with the most terrible timing, a yell for help went out - the finish line balloon arch was collapsing! "The horses are coming!" There was immediate panic from people at the finish line - what to do? Run around the curve and wave the horse(s) down to a stop? (If that was possible). Pull the arch down and drag it out of the way? (Not possible) Hold it up? One tall guy jumped and could touch it, but he wasn't tall enough to hold it up out of the way. Someone thought to grab a nearby broom, and he shoved the arch up with a broom and a prayer, just as the first horse appeared around the corner at a gallop. It was Marta Pujadas, whose horse Volvo did a double take at this collapsing big red arch that was not in that condition the other seven times when he passed under it, and he blew the turn, almost unseating Marta in the process.

She managed to stay on and straighten him up, and Volvo cantered under the horse-eating sagging red balloon, with Marta having to duck so as to not get knocked out of the saddle. Luckily Marta had a 1 1/2 minute lead over second place Alex Luque and Sankoc, and the balloon arch was restored to its former non-threatening glory before they cantered crossed the finish line.

Seven minutes behind Alex came Alejandra Dachs on a visibly tired Falco de Masferrer. He recovered to the 64 bpm criteria in 7:37 to go into the vet ring, but was eliminated by lameness. Marta's horse recovered in 9:31 to present, and upon the final inspection, was declared the winner. Alex's horse was also tired, and took a full 25:36 to come down (maximum time allowed was 30 minutes), but Sankoc also passed his vet inspection to secure second place. The winner averaged 16.65 kph over the four loops.

Rut Comas and Sahara came third, followed by David Fernandez on Enia, then Emma Vizcaino on Capri-Sa de Bellavista. Pol Abril had been closing in on third place when, 5 km from the finish, his horse threw a shoe. He had to back off, and ended up finishing in 6th place.

Four more unlucky riders were eliminated at the finish line, but overall, 70% of the riders completed the 120-km ride, a figure that head veterinarian Doctora Itziar Tarancon was obviously pleased with. "This year was not a championship, and more riders were here for qualifying their horses, so they were not interested so much in speed, and they rode more carefully."

Marta Pujadas is no stranger to winning, having won the title of Spanish National Champion in 1997 by finishing second at the World Championship for Juniors & Young Riders in Cirencester, Great Britain; and Team Gold at the 2001 World Championship for Juniors & Young Riders in Spain. She and 14-year-old Volvo also won the 3-day Santa Susanna ride in Spain in December 2008.

A group of 6 riders came in as it was getting dark: Juma's team escorting Mitsuko Masui on Rhaver, at the steady 11-12 kph they'd maintained all day. A rather large crowd and a very warm reception awaited Mitsuko, and as the group trotted to the finish line, Juma's team reined back and sent Mitsuko and her horse to the lead. Her horse slowed down to a walk, milking the big cheers for all they were worth, and making everybody else slow to a walk; and the biggest cheer of the day came from the crowd watching the vet ring, when Mitsuko's horse passed the vet check. At the last race I attended, the first three riders received their awards on the podium as soon as they had finished and their horses had vetted through. Nobody stayed to watch the rest of the finishers (except the officials, who kind of had to), and certainly no crowd was standing around in the dark and rather chilly evening, applauding an elderly lady that finished in 30th place in the dark. But then, this is Spain. : )

Several riders referred to the course as "challenging" - always up down, left right, and a lot of asphalt or stones. Nevertheless, the high finish rate indicated how well the riders were able to negotiate it. It was well-marked, and had easy access for the crews.

On to the awards ceremony, a fitting end to a fine day. Also at the last race I attended, big awards were given out to the first three finishers immediately after they finished, and that was that, day over. Here, in Spain at the Raid del Cron, everybody gathered together, the time was taken to call out all names of all the finishers, and, starting with 15th place on upward, the riders came forward and prizes were handed out. And what prizes there were! The higher the finish, the more prizes received, so that by 11th place it took two hands to carry things, and by 7th place it took two people to help carry everything away: bags of feed, bags of shavings, halters, saddle pads, blankets, buckets, etc. The OC, headed by Anna Casellas, Joan Roura, Josep Manubens, Fatima Manubens Vergara, and Antoni Nardi, obviously put much time and effort into getting many sponsors for the event, besides getting everything else so well organized. The first 3 riders came back up to receive their trophies on the podium; Volvo received the Best Conditioned award for Marta Pujadas; and, finally, and most fitting, the rider who perhaps accomplished the most of everybody, the one who finished way back in 30th place 1 1/2 hours after the winner, received special recognition, a warm round of applause and hearty cheers: Mitsuko Matsui.

Championship or not, it was one long-standing, successful, enjoyable, and welcoming ride that shouldn't be missed next year.

Vamos A Espanya

Wednesday March 11 2009

Here's a bit of travel advice.

I highly recommend not getting bitten by a spider (or something toxic) in one arm approximately 48 hours before flying from the US to Madrid. I also highly recommend not getting a tetanus shot in the other arm approximately 24 hours before getting on the plane(s). Nor would I recommend having to take a round of antibiotics, if you don't do well with drugs.

If you do decide to do all of these things, the good thing is, you will probably forget about the sore spider bite arm, and the antibiotics you're taking, because your sore tetanus shot arm will keep you from sleeping at all the night before your flights, and during your flights; and it will make you want to shoot yourself. (Don't forget, your sore arm(s) have to somehow lift and carry your carry-on bags.) I was really hoping I wouldn't see anyone I knew who would come up and pop me on the arm and say it was great to see me.

That advice came out kind of whiny, didn't it?

However, a bit of humor brightened things up in New York's JFK airport. It's a grungy and dark and dreary airport, with lots of character, the rudest people ever, no free internet, no internet, and David Cassidy songs for Musak whether you want them or not.

PLUS they have Dr Pepper, and the whole experience cheers you up and makes you glad you're an Owhyee'n.

Now the Raven and I are in back in Catalonia, Spain, finally settled into El Moli, outside a little village outside of Vic (an hour from Barcelona), the 16th century mill-turned-house/office owned by Kiwi friends Paul and Madonna. I took a walk into the nearest village to get my circulation going again, and to pick up some freshly baked bread, like all the other villagers were doing.

My arms are better, the weather is nice and cool, and for heavens sake I'm staying in a 16th century mill (with the Raven)! Nothing to whine about there.

This weekend: the 120 km Cron Raid - the Catalon Championships.

Owyhee Tonic

Saturday March 7 2009

Not whining, just stating facts:

22 days of no Stormy Kisses. 3 wicked sandstorms and a host of lesser ones. Two 95* degree days. 30+ hours of travel to get back home.

Followed by: (not gloating, just stating facts)

1000 Stormy Kisses. 2 short but great cold Owyhee rides on Jose. Three 20* mornings. 1 morning waking to fresh snow on the ground. : ) 3 nights on my Special Pillow. 2 Ravens welcoming me back. 1 stormy blustery wintery day. 2 crisp, clear waning-winter days. 3 dog walks.

Three days of inhaling, immersing, absorbing, infusing, indulging, soaking, appreciating intensely the air/snow/sun/stillness/wind/horses/home of Owyhee before leaving again for 6 weeks.

It will be enough to last me till I get home again.

Rider Fall Off, Rider Get Back On

Friday February 27 2009

Take 77 lady riders with varying degrees of experience in riding fast races, add a pile of crazy drivers (with questionable, varying degrees of experience), toss in a vast desert full of sand, throw in some fast horses with varying hardness of mouths and varying degrees of brakes, shake it up with an air-full of dust, then bake it at 35*C, then finally stir it up for 90 km, and you have the Dubai Equestrian Club Endurance Challenge for Ladies.

"It's gonna be crazy!" Shaikha Madiya accurately predicted before the race.

Some of you may remember a Ladies' race from last year, when Steph climbed aboard a crazy horse, had a Crazy Ride for a short distance, in which the record books show her elimination as "Rider Fall Down." There does seem to be a lot of chaos in Ladies' Races here. To participate, confidence is important. Humor is paramount.

Madiya didn't feel she had a horse from her own stable that was ready for this race, so she was going to ride a gelding from Shaikh Hamdan Al Maktoum's Seeh Al Salam Endurance stable, trained by Ali Al Muhairi. She'd tried him out a few days before on a training ride, and he seemed fine - steering wheel, brakes, the main things. Of course, a horse is always different at an endurance race. A little more excited usually.

Despite her predictions of a crazy ride, Madiya didn't look nervous before the ride, and in fact she slept like a rock the night before.

The start of the ride at 7 AM didn't look TOO chaotic, most everybody away at a fast steady clip, except for the one or two loose horses right at the beginning. At least one of them was caught and the rider got back on, but I'm not too sure about the other one. The orange sunball rose over the horizon as the 77 riders galloped along the 30-kilometer first loop - less the 4 who were eliminated "before the start" or "before gate 1 - did not complete loop." Already the air was thick with dust from the approximately 164 vehicles (I figured, 2 crew cars per rider and about 10 VIP cars following the race) (1 of which was us, though we weren't VIPs, we were just following one). Our driver was zooming along the sand like everyone else, and then we caught up with Madiya and her horse Fenwick Cadenza. The horse was very strong, pulling, and pulling, and pulling. Madiya had a wrestling match on her hands with a horse who had a long, ineffective martingale, a hard mouth, and clearly bigger and grander ideas than the 24+ kph pace he was already going.

Madiya was always on the verge of having a runaway horse, and at some point, surely she had to be getting tired. I've been on a runaway before and I lost my strength (and nerve) and it only took about 30 seconds. Finally after about 10 km of his trying to break into a run, and throwing his head straight up in the air (trying to imitate a camel), Madiya pulled him off the track, circling him away from going straight down the track, so he'd slow down. Her crew jumped out and ran to her and re-snapped the reins onto the leverage point of the Kemberwick bit.

It didn't help. She took her horse back onto the track, and immediately he launched back into a gallop to try to catch the horses in front of him. Again she circled him; the boys jumped out again, and tried to shorten the martingale. It wouldn't go any shorter. Madiya turned the horse back onto the track again, and again, he launched into a gallop. He pulled and pulled, threw his head down, yanking her out of the saddle, grabbed the bit, and kept fighting to go faster. You have two choices in this case: keep fighting the horse to slow him down in which case he wastes a lot of energy, or let him run as fast as he wants, in which case he'll burn himself out and waste a lot of energy. I would have chosen plan B, retire "before gate 1." What would be the point?

The point is, Madiya is not a quitter. Quitting is not a word in her vocabulary, in any aspect of her life. They gave her a horse to ride, and she was going to ride it. One wonders if she sometimes gets such horses to ride to make her wimp out, to prove Arab women really don't belong in this sport of men. I'd have wimped out, I have no problems with that. Madiya kept riding, and she did a great job of doing it.

A couple of times the horse was galloping 40 kph to catch up with other horses. Even when he caught them, that wasn't enough for him, and he kept going. 40 kph when you're in control and it's your idea is agreeable. 40 kph when you are not in control is not so comfortable. The two crew cars following her kept stopping and the boys jumped out to hand her water bottles, but she'd yell, "La! La!" No! No! Not about to take her hands off the reins and release her hold to pour water on her horse!

Now here is where things got scary. It wasn't the driving that scared me (I learned once a long time ago when my driver in Sri Lanka was intent upon killing us all, to look out the side window, and suddenly things are tranquil, whereas when you look out the front windshield, you are terrified, looking to witness the exact moment you will die). It wasn't when our driver flew down a steep dune onto the driving 'track' and WHUMP! crashed into the bottom, ripping the bumper off. (He stopped, climbed out, fetched the bumper, and stuck it in the back seat, no big deal.) It wasn't even so scary that Madiya was fighting for 30 kilometers with her near runaway.

Madiya looked over her shoulder to make sure no vehicles were coming, and she started to circle her horse again. We saw her and slowed down. Another driver behind and to the left of us saw her. He did not slow down. In fact, he passed us, and as he clearly saw Madiya, he GASSED IT, RIGHT AT MADIYA. A collision was inevitable.

I am pretty sure I screamed. I looked away (tranquility) but had to look ahead (terror), and at the last second, the horse saw the car and miraculously had the split-second wherewithal to leap sideways, and just missed getting hit. The driver sped on, never slowed down. My heart was slamming in my chest and my hands were shaking after that.

And Madiya just carried on, back on track, and her horse took off again. Finally two of the boys jumped out of the car and ran alongside the horse for a while, until the horses immediately ahead of him were out of sight. Then he simmered down some, and with about 4 km to go into the vet gate, he settled into a controllable hand gallop. At the vet gate, despite all the stop-run-fight-fight-fight-circle-run-fight, Madiya's horse had averaged 24.45 kph and pulsed down in 2: 31. They were in 21st place. But how much had all the fighting/running taken out of him?

Twelve horses were eliminated at (or before) gate one. The hold was 30 minutes, barely enough time to sit down before Madiya was back in the saddle for the second 28-kilometer loop.

One would think the horse would be a little more settled on the second loop. He was... for about 5 km. He was in a nice strong, agreeable canter, not pulling, until one particular gray horse - who was trying to run away with his rider - came alongside him. That got Fenwick Cadenza all stirred up again, and here we go again, another wrestling match, horse's head up in the air, no mouth, fighting to run off again. Madiya got in with a group of 5 or 6 horses and Fenwick was all hot and bothered.

Every 5 or 10 kilometers, there is a little 'oasis' water stop - a fenced in area about 25 yards in diameter with a tree or two and water tubs for the horses to stop and drink or splash with water (if they aren't getting enough of the water bottles that are constantly passed to them by the grooms as they canter by). Madiya and the group cantered into the oasis, we drove around. 5 riders cantered out - and one loose horse. Who was it? We looked at each rider on the horses - no Madiya! We looked back, and the rider on the ground by the gate was Madiya!

Four cars whipped around and skidded to a stop by the gate. Madiya was already up on her feet, the horse was gone in a cloud of dust. Madiya jumped in a pickup, insisting she was all right (if her head had fallen off, she would have jumped up and said she was all right). "Follow my horse!"

Our driver jumped back in the car, turned around, and off we raced in the dust after the racing vehicles and galloping horses. Chasing Madiya's horse. We thought. But after our driver broke speed records passing several horses and cars, and more horses and cars, covering some 5 or 6 km, some of us knew the horse could not possibly have run this far. But our driver, swept up in the speed and dust and excitement, kept racing forward.

Now, here's where things got a little comical (well, a little scary too, but comically scary.) Finally, we convinced our driver that the horse was somewhere behind us, and we had seen the black pickup turn off the trail into the dunes (way back there, shortly after the oasis). Our driver consented to stop and wait a bit, while all these horses and cars we had whipped past raced past us again.

Then we saw a black pickup coming from a different direction to join the race. Our driver took off after him. It was another several kilometers of racing at warp speed in heavy dust and swerving vehicles in slippery sand, trying to catch up to this black pickup. It occurred to me that Madiya would not be in this vehicle speeding toward the front of the pack - she would be in her crew's car way behind us if she wasn't riding, or more likely she would be back on her horse, way behind us.

Finally we caught up with the black pickup, and got that driver to roll down his window, and as he did, we saw his pickup had no passenger (surprise!) "Where is Madiya?" "Who? I think she might have fallen off her horse way back there." Wrong black pickup.

Once our driver realized this, then he got it in his head that he had to race back along the track looking for Madiya. This he did. Not on the far outside, but aiming straight for the center of the wall of cars in thick dust coming at us. AHHHH! Three of us were pointing and yelling "Outside! Outside!" before our driver realized it was maybe a better idea not to head for the center of the oncoming traffic.

Then we convinced him to just stop, right here, outside the fray, and wait for Madiya, because Ali Khan had called one of our cell phones and said Madiya was back on the horse.

Eventually, out of the dust came a one tired chestnut, no longer pulling on the reins to catch up with anybody. We kept pace alongside Madiya, not having to race along - and then we got stuck. You do have to drive a bit fast in the deeper sand, and this time, we weren't. We had to wait for a big tow truck to come pull us out. Then of course, we had to race like bats outta hell to get back to the venue.

Madiya's horse, despite the Rider Fall Off interlude was now in 14th place. (15 more horses eliminated at gate 2.) Madiya laughed off her fall. She had gotten squeezed in the 'oasis' between water barrels, and instead of stopping, her horse kept going and leaped the barrel. And not being in a comfortable saddle she was familiar with, Madiya came off. The second horse jumped over her as she fell. Jerry, a shoer from Kentucky who works here in the UAE said, "You win the Bounce Award!" Jerry was sure Madiya had been kicked in the helmet by the horse that jumped over her; another person was sure she had been stepped on. Madiya didn't remember either of those things happening, and the only thing that she could feel from her episode was a stiffening thigh. She felt fine, but she didn't want to sit down during the 30 minute hold. She said the only thing hurting were her hands, blistered from the reins. "This horse I need to wear two pairs of gloves!" (And by the end of the day, the backs of her legs were rubbed raw from the saddle.) Jerry also said the horse ran off for 10 km, and they brought him 10 km back. Maybe it wasn't quite that far, but the horse logged some extra mileage in the deep sand. He was headed for the Persian Gulf Coast, having had enough for the day.

Loop 3, 21 km: Predictably, the horse was pooped. "My horse is running out of petrol!" Madiya called to us in the car. No more of that runaway hand galloping, he was sustaining a slow canter, and slowing to a trot when the boys handed water bottles off to her. Then, another rider came up from behind, one from the same stable, and together they picked up the pace, giving each horse a little more interest in going together, finding a little more gas in the tank after all, but definitely less than the 24 kph she'd averaged the first two loops.

Madiya yelled, "Put on some music!" We put on some Arab music, full volume with the windows down, and as the hot dusty Arab desert air blew our hair into stiff wire brushes, and sand scoured our faces, and the crews for each rider leapfrogged ahead in the cars and jumped out to hand off water bottles, the two girls cantered alongside each other, heading for the vet gate.

As we were approaching the vet gate, we started meeting other riders - and drivers - going out on this loop 3 - YIKES! I definitely looked out the side window the rest of the way back, so I wouldn't see who or what we were going to run head-on into. (And don't forget, there's always people to dodge - crews jumping out to hand off water bottles, and running back to their vehicles, dodging oncoming cars that are racing by, sliding back and forth, and can't stop or go slow in the sand.)

Madiya's horse passed the first vet inspection at gate 3, but upon the recheck, the horse trotted out lame. Hallas. Finished. He was definitely a strong horse - just think what he might have done if he'd been content to pace himself. But, that seems to not be the name of the game here, and in many other endurance races around the world. You go out fast, with guns blazing, (whether you want to or not), and if your horse lasts, you might win, and if he doesn't, you don't win, or you don't finish.

A total of 33 horses finished the race. World Champion Maria Mercedes Alvarez Ponton, in front the entire race, and averaging 27.41 kph, was the winner on Antares Sauveterre, a 12-coming-13-year-old son of the great French stallion Persik.

While the men dominate the racing here in the UAE, I'd have to say it's the women who are the amazing riders. Many of them don't have the experience of riding in many endurance races, and often they aren't always familiar with the horses they are getting on, and yet they go out there and do it, when they know just about anything can happen out there.

I couldn't do it. I'm not so young, I'm not fearless, I've already learned I am not invincible, I have no problem being a quitter. Call me what you like. : ). That's why i'm a photographer, and a pokey endurance rider, not an endurance race rider. I leave that to the youthful, the crazy, the brave, and the professionals.