Presented by Endurance Net

Pan American Championship 2005 - The Ride

We have a ride to manage in 10 days, jumping from the Pan American Championship, South America, into the next phase w/o a lot of time to spare. I'll try to get the PAC story written - probably in bits and pieces, but it will be hard to do justice to the incredible time we had in Argentina, adventures and wonderful people that took us in and treated us like family. The race was just a small part of it.

Anyway, here goes:

Loop One. In the Dark.

Fear is a funny thing - once it gets a bite and sinks its teeth in a little, it takes on a life of it's own. Totally irrational, and totally detached from 'reality', it's all in the head. Very nasty stuff.

At some point during the week leading up to the PAC I became afraid. Afraid of my wonderful gorgeous horse, although there was really nothing to be afraid of. When I try to think back at exactly 'what' was making me so edgy I can't define it. I was somewhat worried about staying on the horse (I came off once when we first got to Pinamar, unprepared and riding sloppy when she threw a little bucking fit - but if I had been attentive I could have easily ridden through it), she was big and powerful and quite preoccupied with her herd-mates (several travelled together)and a little prone to moments of great exuburance, but very well trained, and ultimately manageable - I just needed to Ride her, no sleeping on this talented horse. And the the logical/rational me wasn't really worried, I can ride pretty well, and once the race starts the forward motion is all that there is, the silliness and spookiness of the training rides disappears. Even knowing that, there was still this stupid gnawing worry that would wake me early in the mornings during the week before the race, and didn't entirely go away until after that morning's training ride, when we unsaddled and put the horses back in their stall. That's the wierd thing about fear I think, it doesn't make sense - but it's hard to shake. I kept thinking this is ridiculous (and it was). Probably hormones...

So for several days leading up to the start, I had this ongoing battle with my head. We rode every day, and my mare was definitely 'race ready' - pumped, strong, perfect for the event. And nerves on edge with the new surroundings, the excitement, being stalled and fed 'race rations'. I had ridden her a lot already - did a 50 mile ride with her 6 weeks prior (though she was fat and unfit then) and trained her at Miguels in Buenos Aires a couple weeks earlier. It was actually exciting to see her come along in a fairly short time from fat to fit and start to realize what an amazing horse she was. Miguel has been breeding Arabians for three decades, and bred quite successfully for the race track before he became involved in Endurance. His horses are fantastic - strong and spirited - and love to run. I feel so lucky to have been able to compete on one of his horses.

One of the mornings we were saddling up again to go out (Orlando was there, Miguels wonderful groom from Buenos Aires who came to Pinamar to help Miguel, and was particularly kind and helpful to me - he was a gem) - while Orlando was grooming her she spooked at something outside and pulled back in her stall, the look in her eye was not that of a relaxed sleepy horse, and recalling my abrupt departure from her back the day before, I resorted to the the lowly status of whimp... and went looking for Hugo the Gaucho. I mustered up a little Spanish, tried to explain that she was a little 'doma' (wild) the other day and dumped me, and that I was afraid about getting on her that morning 'tengo mierdo' (actually I might have said 'I have excrement' - translations can be tricky)... but Hugo got the idea that I wanted him to ride her first and the gleam in his eye made me smile.

He brought her out and rode her in the small area by the stalls with great gaucho zeal. The mare's eyes got bigger with every spin and kick, and as I was watching the show, Grace - Jan - and Madiya came along and watched with me for a while. I think Jan said something like 'good luck' and Grace followed up with 'looks like he's just getting her warmed up for you'. One of those moments where the humor of the situation wipes out the last remaining strands of fear....

We had a very fine and exciting training ride that morning- all of the San Andres del Moro horses (20+)went out together for a good workout on the beach. Miguel and Moro Tigre, Leonard and Mora Austria, me and Mora Afamada ('Gordita'), and Hugo, Hugito, Ana Lia, and the rest. Except for Miguel, Leo and I, the riders were each ponying horses, 2 or 3 each, hot fit Arabians, and these Argentine riders just rode their horses like they were glued to the saddle, managing their own spirited horse as well as the ones snorting along beside them.

We rode the town and forest lanes, the 5 kilometers to the beach, and then along the beach and back for quite a ways. It was fantastic, ducking under the pier with the waves crashing toward us, just enough clearance, wide eyed horses. Galloping along the water's edge, getting caught by a large wave, pounding hooves splashing the salt water all around. Truly wonderful - and the light was silver, the water and sky were shades of gray, deep blue and silver. Beautiful. I kept expecting Gordita to relax a little, settle into the ride, but she felt 'big' the entire ride - exhilarating, but exhausting. I thought for sure she'd relax next time.

The next morning I awoke anxious (silly stuff) and decided I'd just spend the morning hand walking her, letting her stop, graze, relax a little. Seemed like a reasonable idea. I left the helmet and chaps and tights in the hotel, and bravely went to the barn. I met up with Miguel and Leo for the morning ride and explained my plan and as the words came out it felt pretty weak... Miguel is so kind, and such a gentleman, and politely suggested that it would probably be better to ride again, that she needed the excersize, but, whatever I wanted to do was ok. Funny, at that moment I couldn't figure out why I hadn't wanted to ride in the first place and happily went to saddle up and ride - forget the helmet and tights. Jeans would do. And we had a wonderful ride - slow and meandering, several hours riding and talking. Gordita was still feeling 'race ready' but a little more relaxed with her surroundings. It was fine. (except that I lost my new.first.only.bought-in-Dubai cellphone somewhere on that ride - all my new contact phone numbers, and a very cool phone - bummer!)

The First Loop

The night before the ride we managed to get to bed fairly early - a 4AM start, which meant a 2:30AM alarm, so a few hours sleep at best. I awoke well before the alarm went off - (this is a miracle, I'm not a morning person) - wide awake and Really Ready! I felt this overwhelming sense of relief and excitement - finally, let's do this thing. All the nerves and stress and worry, trying to imagine how the start would be, how the horses would behave, would they stumble over the roots in the dark, would the sand on the beach be soft and treacherous, would I be able to stay on Gordita if she got too excited? ...all that stuff - all that didn't matter any more. Just time to go and do it.

We got to the barn plenty early, John helped me round up the tack from Miguel's trailer and carry it to the barn. Orlando was there taking the blankets off the horses, getting them groomed, lots of excitment. My plan was to stick with Leonard and Austria (to whom Gordita was particularly bonded) at least for the first loop. Miguel and Leonard intended to start up front to stay out of the craziness, so that's where I would ride too, for a while. Must be the mother in me (raised three boys) but I tend to start worrying about everybody else once the ride gets rolling. Leo and I were ok, mounted and ready on Austria and Gordita, but still didn't see Miguel (it was very very dark). And Leo had that look in his eye, it's race time. I tried to get Gordita settled down, while letting her keep Austria in sight, and sending 'pings' out to Leo when I lost him 'Leo?' 'Here Steph' 'Shouldn't we wait for Miguel?' 'silence...' . Finally Miguel and Tigre showed up. Watching Miguel ride his stallion made me feel totally foolish for ever thinking my mare was a challenge. In the dim light from the barns, they were a beautiful sight. Tigre doing piafs, galloping in place, a keg of dynamite, and Miguel sitting deep in the saddle, total concentration on his face.

We started together towards the start - past the barns, out to the street and back in at the Hippocampo entrance, to gather together in a large field, glaring lights, ghostly horses warming up in all directions. At some point on the way there we lost Miguel, he had to go back for something, so I focused my attention on Leo - 'wait a minute, we lost Miguel, no - I don't want to canter quite yet... Leo?' Leo was off on his own at that point - his brain had been replaced by a single thought. race.

Riding somebody else's horse is a little different game, and I felt tremendous responsibility to take care of the horse, and this left me feeling a little insecure about the start, especially with Leo apparently doing his own thing, I sure hoped I could control her for the first few miles. At that point I spotted Miguel, and he had another rider with him. Farod, a rider from Qatar would be riding a horse that Miguel had been keeping as a spare, just in case one of the others didn't vet in. Another very nice, very fit mare. We would ride together.

'And Go' - and in the semi dark we exploded out of the field. In the first rush the horses were plenty excited. My mare was galloping sideways, pushing Farod and his mare away from the start into the trees and I though 'crap, we're going to wreck' - but she straightened up and turned in just in time to get through the starting gate. Finally, forward motion - strong but steady. Finally, we've started.

The 5 kilometers to the beach were good - fast, strong, steady - lights from riders' headlamps and the ATV's following along were nasty and distracting, and made the horses nervous as the shadows danced in the forest, but nice wide track and good footing, and no problems. At one point I saw Mercedes and Kasal go by. We followed for a little while, I shouted 'Buen Suerte! Good Luck!' to her, not sure if she heard me, but I really wished her a good ride. Kasal was in Fine form, really looked great - this should be a good race for them.

We started to spread out a little as we hit the dirt road that parallels the ocean. Miguel was setting the pace, Farod and I riding along beside. Leo was long gone. We picked up a gallop and cruised along in the dim light from the street lights, horses strong and wanting to run faster, but willing to be held back. In one moment Tigre tripped, and stumbled, and couldn't get his feet back under him. He slid along on his knees and finally rolled his shoulder into the ground. At that point Miguel hit the ground with his shoulder too. It all happened so fast. I brought Gordita around and came up beside, she was hard to hold and I was afraid to try to dismount with other horses running in front and behind. Miguel and Tigre got up together, Miguel holding him by the reins when he tried to run off. Few words were exchanged, mostly it was so fast and so dark and such an anxious moment that we held our breath.

Miguel got back on and we started moving out again slowly. Tigre looked ok, but when I looked at Miguel he had his right arm clenched to his side and his face was grim. At this point I figured it was over for Miguel - his months (years) of preparation, anticipation, hard work and focus - all lost. Having watched Tigre slide across the road I figured he'd be lamed for sure, and the pain in Miguel's eyes - how could he ride another 150 kilometeres, even if Tigre wasn't hurt.

'Are you alright?' 'My shoulder...'. Not much more was said for a while, we moved out again, trotting and then picking up the canter. Miguel looked over with a tight face, but managed a smile and humorous comment and I remember thinking 'what an amazing man'. Focused, determined, in pain, but still capable of humor.

Things were going along relatively well for the next few miles, along the dirt road, and then we dropped down onto the beach. An 8 kilometer stretch of beach was in front of us. Pitch black, the breaking waves reflecting silver light from the far street lights, black water sliding up the sand, silver froth at the edge, the sound of hooves hitting the sand and the feel of the powerful horses. wow.

Then we lost the rider from Qatar. Farod's horse seemed to be getting more and more excited as we galloped along the beach. He was gripping the reins, not giving the mare relief from the pinch of the bit, driving her to fun faster. He was trying to keep her behind Miguel and I, but I'd see them dart off to one side, pull her in, dart off the other way, pull her back in. Finally she darted out and kept going. A few English words, a few Arabic words, the tight sound of fear in his voice, and then he vanished into the dark.

Not a word from either Miguel or I, just silent winces, and keep on going. Hopefully she'll slow down when she catches the other horses.... A few minutes later a small wet figure, standing next to a dancing horse, materialized out of the dark in front of us. He and the mare had run into the ocean... parting ways in the waves. Farod! we stopped, he was glad to see us, and we glad to see him. But still hardly a word was spoken (at least intelligible words) and he finally managed to get back on the mare. Now Farod had plenty to say. He couldn't control the horse. 'Could we walk please Boss? ' 'Wait please, don't go, I can't stop her'. Miguel tried to tell him how to manage the mare, don't hang on her mouth, pull and release... but he couldn't. We finally managed to ride with Farod wedged in between and behind us, the mare boxed in between Tigre and Gordita. It was slower progress, and Miguel's tight face expressed his pain, and his frustration. This was Miguel's race. He wanted the win, and he had a horse that could possibly do it, Insh'allah. Still, he was kind and patient, talking to Farod, trying to help him through.

We weren't even half way through the first loop... let's hope things get a little better. We cruised along the beach a little more, then headed back up to the dunes. I though we were going to lose Farod again when we turned up, but he managed to circle her around and tuck her back in. We rode through the dunes for a while. Totally black now, no street lights, only the shimmering stars, the Southern Cross. Miguel had a bright headlamp on, otherwise it would have been impossible to find the trail. I had assumed the trail would be marked with glow sticks like we do in the US - but there was very little. And occasional red blinking light, but so few and far between that without a light, or without knowing exactly where the trail went from experience, it would have been impossible to follow, at least with any speed.

We had a few moments of relative peace, the horses settled down, just working steady now. But a group of riders caught up with us and the lights and shadows from behind got the horses stirred up again. Spooky dancing shadows, horses passing, being passed. Pretty tense riding. And concern for Miguel, one eye on Farod and his mare to make sure they stayed put... very tense. Gordita was moving nicely, but still required a lot of concentration. We came out of the dunes, crew areas, dogs barking, lights from houses off in the woods, the horses were jumpy, and good lord so was I! We had a stretch along the highway next, juggling positions with a bunch from Brazil, good footing, galloping, easy easy easy, relax... the horses were headed back to camp now.

The vetcheck was pretty wild - still the dark of night, lights, water, activity, horses calling. Usually there's great relief coming in off the first loop, making camp, cheery greetings at the vetcheck - but this felt just as tense as the loop. The horses all vetted in fine, Miguel's family was anxious to help him, tried to improvise a sling from a couple bandanas, but that just made it worse. Best to keep the hand in the pocket, and ride with the arm pressed against his side. Tigre was fine, there was no talk of stopping.

Getting Through It

The first loop was over (thank god), Miguel and Tigre were both good to go. Farod got a change of clothes (I can't imagine riding that loop in sea-soaked clothing) and was game for another loop. My mare had pulsed down quickly, a great improvement over the ride we did 6 weeks earlier, she was fit, feeling good, eating well, and the rest of the day was looking good. The 30 minute hold went very quickly, but the horses looked great, ate well, things were looking up. Leo had come in before Miguel, Farod and I and his horse Austria had a questionable trot - mandatory recheck. During the hold they discovered several burs (common in the dunes grass) stuck to her legs and heels. Plucked them out, and that seemed to solve the problem. She was good to go, and left around 10 minutes ahead of us.

There were 6 Pavlovsky horses riding in the PAC - Miguel, Farod, Leo and me - plus Miguel's gaucho Hugo, and Hugo's son Hugito. Hugo and Hugito were on fit seasoned horses, and moving along well in front of us. There were also about 20 Pavlovsky crew people, family, friends, grooms, all fast and efficient. Working hard when the riders came in, cleaning up, setting up, for the next round, and then taking serious matte breaks when time permitted. Argentines take their yerba mate very very seriously. (as serious as many of us N. Americans take our coffee). It's a somewhat bitter tea brew, high in caffeine like tea, customarily drunk from a dried hollow gourd, using a metal stem-like straw. Rich with custom, the sharing of mate between companions is a serious affair. I thought Argentines were the most dedicated mate drinkers in S. America until I saw the Uruguayans. They were rarely seen without a mate cup in hand, leather slings for the thermos of hot water and yerba over their shoulders. This may explain their winning performances....

John and Pablo helped crew for me all day. Always there- John (in between taking photos) and Pablo (in between crewing for the rest of the gang). They were wonderful. Pablo is the husband of Miguel and Celina's daughter Carolina. Tall and thin, and a new zest and passion for Endurance. He grew up with horses, but didn't ride much as an adult until he and Carolina and their children moved to the same area as Miguel. He started training horses with Miguel at the country club, and started doing rides and never looked back. Pablo is the president of Burger King in Argentina. A self-made success. After his father died, leaving his mother with 7 children to raise, Pablo's aunt gave him her savings, and sent him to Colorado - to spend a year in the US in order to learn English (a key to success if you're Argentine). He arrived speaking no English whatsoever, but being young and smart and determined, he returned to Argentina fluent and comfortable in the new language. He started working for Burger King - starting at the bottom, and gradually worked his way up to the top, a lot of hard work. But he doesn't miss a day of riding, up early every morning working the horses with Miguel.

I asked Pablo during one of the morning training rides if it wasn't hard to keep such a schedule, up riding every morning before work. No, he said - I live for this now. Riding has changed my life. Yep :)

We saddled up and headed out for loop 2, a determined Miguel, a relieved me, and a dry Farod. It was still dark, but a hint of light on the horizon. (btw, in the southern hemishere, if one faces the equator, the arc of the sun travels from right to left... just the opposite. That always made me pause and ponder. They also say that the water in the s. hemisphere toilets flushes counterclockwise instead of clockwise. I watched a lot of toilets flush, but never did observe this to my satisfaction...)

We picked up the dirt roads heading towards the neighboring town, a charming community of gorgeous homes, classy shops, and sand roads. Very beachy and ritzy. Horses felt great, strong and pulling. I was starting to feel sharp pain in my shins and had to adjust my balance. I had shorted my stirrups a notch for the first loop, and was wearing new half chaps. The flexion of the muscles and tightness of the chaps below my knees was starting to bruise. It felt like shin splints, and I was a little worried about doing 80 more miles like this... but oh well, gotta go.

As soon as we hit the first road with good footing we broke into a canter. Miguel said - 'now we can move out, we have a lot of catching up to do'. Obviously the 30 minutes we lost on the lead from the early morning escapades hadn't dimmed his hopes on a win. I felt like it was still best to stay together, enjoying the speed, but hoping it wasn't too much for my horse - she wasn't as fit as the others. Farod was still battling his mare, but we were getting better at quickly moving into formation to hold her back.

We zoomed through the town streets, enough light to see by now, and dropped down to the beach again. This was a wonderful stretch - moving fast and steady, staying at the water's edge where the sand was hardest, hitting the shallow waves. I can never get enough of this. I caught site of Steve and Dinah Rojek - looking good, travelling a ways in front of us. We caught up with Hugo and Hugito just as we left the beach and headed up into the dunes. It was absolutely gorgeous, the air was misty and thick - trails through undulating dunes, winding through groves of trees, cresting dunes to see long stretches of rippled sand dissappear into the fog. One of my favorite sections of the ride.

Farod was still having a hard time, seemed to be getting desparate, I don't think he was having any fun, and he couldn't seem to find a rhythm with the horse. At one point Hugo looked back as Farod made a particularly loud exclamation, Miguel explained that Farod couldn't control the horse, maybe the bit wasn't adjusted right. Hugo and Hugito glanced at each other, and in a second, as if choreographed, while the horses were clipping along, Hugito slipped off his horse while Hugo grabbed the rains, not missing a beat. Hugito ran towards us while Hugo ponied his horse. Hugito grabbed Farod's horse running along beside, looked at the bit, attached the curb chain, flashed him a quick smile, and before Farod could respond had caught back up with his own horse and vaulted back into the saddle, as Hugo released the reins.

Hugito's son, Hugotito, is 2 years old, and I hear stories about him, already riding on his own, refuses to be led or helped, already lives to ride. Horsemen.

We left the dunes, still foggy and misty, met the road crew, some water and encouragement, and then had a long gallop along the highway. A few rigs went by, but mostly it was just quiet and misty and wonderful galloping along. My legs were really starting to hurt now, wet from the ocean gallop, tight chaps, short stirrups, but no real opportunity to make any real adjustments. (gotta go). I focused on keeping balanced which seemed to help, but I was seriously starting to worry...

Back into camp, John and Pablo there to meet me, the horses looked great again, pulsed down fairly quickly, trotted out fine (I had Pablo trot Gordita for me, she was a lazy trotter with me, but seemed to do better with Pablo). Back at the crew area I decided to back off of the pace. My mare was really feeling strong, and I think she could have kept up the pace metabolically, but I was worried about her legs. She had only been in training for 3 months (following a year of rest after the 2003 season) and the Pinamar course is a tough one - lots and lots of sand. I did not want to risk any lameness with her.

Miguel left on time and I decided to stay an extra ten minutes, let Gordita eat some more, and separate her from the others. I never saw Farod again that day. His horse vetted through, but I think he had had enough. When I left for the 3rd loop, alone, I had that wonderful feeling - now, it was 'my' ride, I could focus on the horse, on the course, on the day, and not worry about the others, not worry about the others worrying about me, and mostly not worry about going too fast - just do our best ride, mile by mile. The pain in my legs got pretty intense again not long after leaving. I let the stirrups down a notch, seemed to help, and loosened the strap on the chaps - better, but still hurting. 65 more miles?

Finishing

Off we go on the 3rd loop - just me and La Gordita - and the dunes and the beach and the pines... a long loop, (37.5 km - almost 23 miles) - riding alone, which I like to do, focus on the horse and the scenery. The mare was forward and willing, even alone, she has a lot of heart. Long loop though, and afternoon sun - we both arrived a little hot and discouraged. Another hold, everything fine with the horse. My legs were still sore, but better than before. I hadn't seen much of the others - Miguel and Leo still going, Miguel still moving up. Hugo had pulled, Hugito was still in but his horse was getting tired. My mare actually felt very good, we were still hopeful for a decent completion.

The US riders were doing well - Valerie had pulled after loop 2, but everybody else was still going strong. Meg Sleeper was also riding an Argentine horse, owned by Carlos Larerre - another major breeder of endurance Arabians in Argentina. The horse had qualified the year previous with a 2-day 160km ride, hadn't done anything since, so Meg was taking it real easy. Danielle and Cia were both moving up, horses going strong. Steve and Dinah Rojek were holding steady in the top 15, doing well.

Loop 4 was a fun one, I met up with Steve and Dinah and we rode together most of the loop. The horses were glad to have the company and we cruised along. Through the shady town of Carislo - sandy streets, manicured yards, lovely homes. Lots to look at. And another lovely gallop along the water, Dinah and Phoenix splashing through the shallow waves, Steve and Finally staying up a little higher, as usual the perfect picture of horse and rider. Steve is one of those incredible horsemen - always riding in balance, the horse perfectly balanced too. He and Miguel are probably the finest riders I've seen on the Endurance trail.

I let Steve and Dinah go when we hit the dunes and headed back in, being very careful with my horse, many more sandy miles to go - save the legs. I was feeling like Gordita and I were a team - she was still willing and happy to move out, but also tuned in to me, not as worried about the other horses out there. Nothing like 120 km to settle a horse down :)

Back at the hold, vetted in fine, still looking good though needing to eat and drink. Hugito had pulled, so it was Miguel and Leo and i at this point - still going. The next loop was the toughest. We had been told this by the OC, so no surprises, but it really was nasty. Lots of deep sand, actually almost entirely deep sand. I walked the sand with Gordita, trotted the downhill slopes and anything flat that came along. Took forever and I hated to lose time, but figured it wasn't worth the risk for this horse to go faster. There was one section where the trail was shared with the final loop - I saw Mercedes coming the other way, Kasal trotting out very strong, moving up. Miguel had moved up to 2nd place by then (10km to go), Mercedes was just behind him in 3rd. I saw Leo too, behind Mercedes - looking good. Waved to all, and wished them good luck. We finally hit the beach and galloped along the hard sand at the waters edge, she was still strong - amazing horse. Back through the town streets and pines and back to camp.

We arrived to camp just after the top three raced in, lots of people watching and cheering along the finish - Gordita and I headed to the finish stretch (still one more loop to go) and John was there shouting go! what the hell! - so we galloped in, lots of cheering, Gordita felt so proud... what the hell :)

We vetted in ok again, though the vet thought she was getting a little sore on one of her front legs - be careful. 15km left to go (9 miles) - we'd go easy, almost done. We still had light as we left on the last loop, but night fell about half way through the loop. This is my favorite thing - riding in the dark at the end of a 100 miler. Tired and a little spacy, just letting the horse find her way, moving along. I love having the 'other' senses take over - the sounds and feels and smells are stronger as the vision dims. And Gordita was still moving forward, happy to trot when the footing was good. There wasn't much for marker lights on the trail, just a few flashing red lights (very few), but the mare seemed confident following the trail of the horses that had gone before us. This trail didn't go down to the beach, but along the road above it, with the beach houses and hotels, dogs barking, a few cars parked above the water. Quiet and eerie with the streetlights, the sound of the ocean below.

A few more trails and crossings, through the woods, towards the lights, and back, again, across the finish. John was there to greet me, and Pablo and all the Pavlovsky kids (more kids and grandkids than horses I think). Miguel was finished (3rd place, Mercedes and Kasal had passed him and Tigre in the final stretch) sitting with his family, looking tired but content. Miguel's twin brother, Santiago, had come for the weekend too - also a doctor, also a horseman, but competes in driving instead of Endurance. He looked very proud of his brother.

The kids were cheering and the music playing (some spanish reggae stuff) and we were feeling great heading for the completion exam and trotout. Dancing to the music, happy happy. The mare had felt wonderful the last loop, I was pretty pleased with her. Pulsed down, to the vet, trot out. Uh oh.... she looked great going out, but coming back there was a slight head nod, especially the last few steps. The kids were still cheering, but for me time stood still. Ann Stuart (chef d'equipe for US) came over and stood next to me while the vets deliberated. My heart was pounding - Ann said - she's not bad, but not perfect - it could go either way. Gulp.

Pass! What incredible relief. I had pulled once before at the end of a 100 miler, it's the pits. What relief. I thanked the vets, thanked the staff, thanked Ann, thanked the kids, thanked the gods... thanked Miguels' mare, Mora Afamada.

The celebration

The next day, Saturday, was the open competition - still FEI, but 40, 80, 120km distances. And a zillion horses! There were several buyers there (Qatar and UAE) and I think that every Arabian horse in the country was there to show it's stuff. Top riders and breeders, and any other Argentine rider that could find a way to get to the event. A wonderful mix of endurance and country - saddles and outfits, horses and rigs, lots of hopeful riders.

When John and I went to the Fiesta de Tropillas in Loberia (southern BA province - almost 6 weeks earlier) we took tons of pictures. One of our favorite scenes was of a red-haired freckled gaucho. Sitting at a long table with all the other (dark haired) gauchos, eating his chori-pan with his big gaucho knife, wearing his dark boyna (beret) and looking so very interesting. (Irish immigrants came to S. America too). Well, he was here riding too! I had seen him a couple days before, walking the horses down the road. He had brought his own Arabian to do the 80. I never learned his name, and don't know how he did - but I wished him luck.

I (sort of) crewed for Pablo on Saturday. He was riding the 80km, along with Maiko (Miguels son), Hugo, Hugito, Ana Lia, Eladio (Orlando's son), and a few others from Miguel's ranch. I was a little tired and spacy, but did try to help. These guys ride and crew for each other all the time, and have a good, fast, system.

I checked in on Team Estanar from time to time too. Sheikha Madiya's ride had not been as successful, she made it two loops but her mare was having problems. Maybe a slight tie-up early on that left her travelling a little funny, maybe saddle fit issues, maybe maybe. But two loops was it. Madiya was cheerful and positive as always, but I could tell she was dissapointed. She and her brother Sheikh Mana had flown over from Dubai 10 days earlier - they spent time with Mercedes and Eduardo, and took a visit to Claudia's farm. She was riding one of Claudia's horses and got full VIP treatment - a fun way to experience Argentina! And a nice followup to the adventures in Dubai - where Madiya, Grace, Claudia and I were road crew for Mercedes and Kasal. Several months, several thousand miles away. Madiya and Mana had a good time in Pinamar I think. I have this wonderful picture of Mana on the last day, with his white robes, and under the robes his new carpincia boots (special Argentine leather)and over the robes his new Argentine carpincia vest - very cute!

Grace and Jan had flown over from the US to crew. Jan had been hoping to ride the PAC, but her leased horse fell through at the last minute. She and Madiya were out riding today, the 80km ride on two more of Claudia's horses. Relaxed ride, they were having fun I think. Both finished, close to tail end - tired but content.

That night was the dinner and awards ceremony, starting at 9:30 pm, Argentine style. After the ride we all went back to our hotels to rest a little. Kathy Brunjes and I drank wine in the jacuzzi while Steve and Dinah did a massage... pretty content.

The awards evening was a blast! I had always thought that the Brazilians were the biggest, loudest, partyingest group in the world, until I saw the Uruguayans! They had taken individual and team Gold at the PAC, individual Gold in the young riders 120km, and some top honors on Saturday too. Maybe it was all the matte.... but they were pumped. All dressed in blue Uruguay colors, and truly pumped.

We had traditional barbeque - asado - for dinner. As we walked into the dining hall we walked past rows of racks of ribs, sidemeat, chorizo, all sizzling over the fire, attended by several older men. There's a real art to the asado - the racks have to be just the right distance from the fire, coals placed carefully under the grills of chorizo. These guys were good.

And my phone came back!! I had lost it on a training ride several days earlier, no hope of finding it - we had ridden along the beach, through the woods, 3 hours worth of trail - so I said adios to my first and favorite phone. And then Eladio (son of Orlando - Miguel's groom) saw it on the beach during the Saturday ride and picked it up. (unlikely!) Then he took it back and gave it to the boss (Miguel and Celina) - Celina recognized the phone as mine because she had seen me using it in Dubai - very unlikely, the whole thing - but I was very very happy to see it again :)

The dinner progressed nicely, bottles of wine, plates of hot sizzling meats, good company. We ate and drank for a long time... it was a lot like an Argentine wedding, food food food, and then dance, and then more food. Well into the morning hours. As the meal was winding down, the spirits were winding up. All of the Uruguayans had assembled to one side, and arranged themselves from floor to ceiling along the stadium seats. Holding a huge Uruguay flag up, all in blue, they began cheering and chanting "Ur-u-guay! Ur-u-guay!" on and on. Finally that settled down, some rumbling and discussing, and they came back with "Ar-gen-tina! Ar-gen-tina!" and then "Bel-l-gium! (this was a little more difficult to chant)" and they went through every country "Ja-a-pan!" was a little difficult too. Great spirit though, finally "U-A-E!" - it was very special.

The Brazilians eventually got into the spirit (they had won team Gold for the Young Riders) - and tried to keep up with Uruguay (no way). At midnight the Organizing Committee and FEI Officials presented awards - every finisher was called out and came up for a ribbon and medalion, the top medal winners Uruguay, Argentina, Argentina - and finally top medal teams - Uruguay, USA, Chile - lots of cheering and congratulations, and then the music started! Great fun, dancing below, dancing on the stage up above (finally Brazil found their stride - nobody could dance like the Brazilians). It was a great way to end the event - this S. American celebration is fantastic! At times it felt more like a soccer group than an endurance group, but what the heck - good spirit. The 2007 PAC is scheduled for Brazil - wow.

We danced till almost 3am. (others lasted longer). Before we left I wandered outside for some fresh air. The asado fire was still going, a few racks still had some sizzling things, and one of the oldtimers, dressed in white chef clothing, was standing there staring into the fire. We struck up a conversation (my rather poor Spanish) - he asked me where I was from, talked a little about growing up in Argentina (he was a little dreamy and slurry, a bit of chef's wine I think) - at one point he quoted some poetry, and broke into fluent French but I didn't catch the details. He was obviously a very well educated man. I gave him an Argentine kiss on the cheek after his poem, it was quite special, even if I didn't understand most of it... "You should come to the US sometime" I said - "you'd love Idaho" (a little rider's wine too). "yes, I'd love to, but you know in Argentina we are very poor".

Yes, and that's the story of Argentina. There are a few who have a lot, a few that have good jobs and prospects for a comfortable retirement, education for their children. And then there is the rest of Argentina. Poor. A rollercoaster of political and economic lows and lowers, has pretty much depleted the middle class. The last collapse, in 2000, dropped the value of the peso to nothing, factories closed, jobs were lost, only those with substantial holdings or jobs that they could hold on to survived it. The rest became poorer. Today there are maids and service workers with advanced degrees unable to find jobs that reflect their education, school teachers hitch hiking to work because they can't afford a car. Most of the cars and trucks on the highway are barely held together with wire and hope.

But despite the poverty, the Argentines are proud and relatively happy people. A very strong Catholic faith holds the families together, and the latin blood keeps the spark in the eye. I felt a strong affinity for Argentina, loved the people, loved the horse culture that is so strong there. The gaucho culture - much like the cowboy culture in the US - the tough, strong, freedom loving people of the old days. Regressaremos!

Steph