Compiegne - Nicola Freud
COMPIEGNE! It deserves capital letters if you train endurance horses in France and have any aspirations to be counted alongside the trainers whose names command respect. In the world of psychology there's credence given to the 'act as if' school and, with that in mind, whilst packing we tried to leave our shabbiest clothes/numnahs/stable stuff behind, and took some heart in the fact that we have our first ever new car which meant we probably wouldn't be arriving on a low loader for once. Don't ask.
Last year we'd spent the Compeigne weekend swanning twixt the course and the food tent where the spreads were fit for a king (or a sheikh) but competing means no photographs and no press pass means no free grub so the car doubled as a larder whilst we slept on an air mattress in the horse trailer. Everyone has their own financial priorities and one night in a hotel equates to a months supply of Cortaflex, 90 minutes in the hairdressers equates to three sessions at the local equine swimming pool to put it bluntly, our horses look a lot better than we do!
We had been aiming two horses for the weekend: Dougal (who is ours and a champ but has question marks over his front legs) for the 140k on the Friday and the Minger (very inexperienced and who we train for somebody else - a fast little mare but with a naturally high heart rate so recovers badly) for Sunday's 120k. The Minger is just under 14.2 and Richard is just over 6'2? thus a lightweight (in body but not riding capabilities) friend from England (Brigid) was coming over to ride her whilst Richard had taken the ride on a rangy chestnut gelding called Lancelot who is owned and trained by Kyona. So, now you have the cast list.
As a vet pointed out on Sunday night when he saw our two horses sharing a double stable 'there aren't many people who train like you' and it's true. We keep our horses in a herd, they live outside with tree shelter and virtually no feed other than grass and we care deeply for their mental state which we try and understand and respect.
Compiegne is a four or five hour drive from our farmette. I'd thought about putting farm but don't think the horses, five hens and two cats really justify the description and it is only 14 acres. We left in pouring rain, we stopped in pouring rain to let them leg stretch and we arrived in pouring rain to find the entire site under water. A small lake formed the floor of Dougal's temporary stable so we found another which only had a small pond in it. There was to be no corralling which we knew from the website and the horses were to be separated. Minger's stable block was permanent and therefore dry.
Having settled them we spent the next hour catching up with old friends, we saw Merri who has been over here all summer writing and photographing for your benefit and found she was crewing for Leonard Liesens, a major Belgian rider with a truly major horse ? the 18 yr old Orfeo.
Whoever we saw, wherever we went there was only one topic of conversation ? the weather. Compiegne is on sand and it had been raining all week so the venue, the course and my feet were all waterlogged and looked like staying that way for the duration.
For the last year I'd been noticing a trade stand selling Dubarry boots. For the last year I'd been drooling over them. For the last year I'd been telling myself that the price represented about ten years worth of shoe allowance. However, something took over my brain and I suddenly found myself with a wincing credit card but walking on air with dry feet and a smile on my face.
Richard and I then took the two horses out for a splosh in the puddles which was fun and my boots were as good in the stirrup as the ground. Having walked the horses for five or six kilometres we spent the next hour letting them pick at grass while gossiping with everyone else who was doing the same.
Thursday morning was vetting in the stables (a very relaxed Dougal recorded a pulse of 32). The trot up was in the afternoon followed by the briefing and the filling of a zillion water bottles. The rain, which hadn't let up all day, seemed to be lessening. There was a survey being done which consisted of photographing, weighing, measuring etc all the horses and his condition score was one of the highest (4s and 3.5s) but our grass has been wonderful and a whippet he isn't?
Friday and the equine race started at 6.30 whilst the race between the hundred 4X4s started five minutes later. The first crew point, a clearing in the forest large enough to hold over 400 people was 15 kilometres from the start and, as I didn't have my journalists hat on, didn't record/can't remember who came through first but can tell you that Richard and Dougal were just behind the leaders and that Dougal had no wish to stop and be crewed.
They came into the first vetgate in about eighth place, huge drink and heart rate monitor on, reading of 61, straight to the vets, third horse in, spun straight out as his pulse had gone up, loads of water on, back to the vets, this time in about thirtieth position, and a pass. Forty minutes of eating standing in the sandy lake then off for the second loop. Richard had felt all day that his rear end was sort of sloping away (we have a Bob Marshall sports saddle which makes feeling that kind of thing easy) but had convinced himself that it was because his hocks were way underneath him due to the go faster hat he was wearing.
However, at the second vetgate they arrived back and Richard told me immediately that he was favouring one canter lead and there was something wrong. He then took six minutes to pulse down which is much slower than we'd have expected. Into the vets and he was slightly lame behind and our day was over. I took him straight back to the stable where he immediately had a pee. Uh Oh. The colour of Burgundy. Presumably he'd tied up the night before as his hind quarter muscles were completely soft now. This was, of course, the first time he'd ever done this but then it's the first time he'd spent three days on a diet of predominately hay instead of pasture. Live and learn and he ate and drank all day and was completely sound the following morning albeit with the question still unanswered re his front legs. He'd lost a total of 2kilograms (5lbs) over the 66 kilometres.
On Saturday afternoon Richard and Brigid rode out on Lancelot and the Minger respectively. Brigid announced that the Minger did everything described on the tin (I'd been boring her for weeks on emails with what to expect) and we all had a sensible early night before Sunday's 6.30am start..
This summer, with all the free time available (joke) I had been trying to write an extra article on alternative shoeing and had contacted three companies asking if they'd like to participate but only one had actually come up with the goods. Epona. They make a heavy-duty (but pleasingly light) plastic shoe with a built in pad (all the horses competing at Compiegne wore pads at least in front if not all round). The Minger had been wearing hers for nearly three weeks (hardly ideal with normal shoes to start a ride that far into the shoeing!) but even though we train over rocks and stones the clenches were tight and there seemed to be minimal wear with nicely rounded toes for natural break over so we had decided to take a, the chance, and b, a spare set plus tools to nail them on if necessary at a later vetgate.
We had been so nervous about what the inexperienced Minger might do at the mass start of well over a hundred horses that I'd recommended Brigid neither mounted nor started til after the launch. So, as dawn broke my last sight of her before I joined the subsidiary 4X4 race was her leaving a few minutes behind the others who'd all disappeared.
Richard had started near the front of the pack so it was no great surprise to see him in about 20th position when they raced past us towards Kyona at the first crew point. He called out ?how's Brigid' and I shouted back that she'd started last and was a long way back. Bit of a surprise then when, fifteen seconds later, the next horse through was the Minger with a very happy Brigid on board.
Back to the venue and Brigid arrived in second place two seconds behind the leader. However, quick presenting the Minger isn't and in the six minutes that it took to pulse her down to below 64 nearly 30 horses had overtaken her including Richard. It's a very very fast and furious thing ? a French fei vet gate and the amount of water used could fill an Olympic sized swimming pool.
This was an 'electronic' ride with all the horses wearing tags so no bits of paper to hand in at the departure, just a neon print out board showing your number and leaving time. Brigid arrived just after her number had hit the top of the screen and disappeared, and, being unfamiliar with the system, had then, over the next few minutes, watched fifty horses leave in front of her before dismounting and asking advice.. Mea complete culpa, I should have accompanyed her.
As crew, waiting at the first crew point, I was unaware of this, so had a fairly major panic as half the pack (who I know should have been behind her) came through but no Minger. Presuming that we'd missed each other because she was further forward than I'd anticipated, I raced onto the next crew point and waited. And waited. And waited? until she arrived and explained what had happened and instantly all my unrealistic fantasies of the podium sensibly vanished!
By now they were going round alone and the temperature had started to climb. Most of the ride is in the forest around Compiegne and conditions were stifling; the ground was dryish sand or abrasively muddy sand and long cantering tracks suddenly turn to steep, stony inclines. Fortunately the organisers had arranged three or four communal water points on each loop. Richard had said before the ride that he wanted to get into 15th place or so and sit handy, and he was going round in 20th, so things looked good. Brigid's unfortunate time defecit meant she could only ride for a completion.
Vetgate 2 was pretty much a repeat of 1 for Lancelot. Richard jumped off and ran in with him. Off came the tack and on went the water; 4 minutes later they were in the control area. 4 minutes is fast but this is a world championship. Everyone is fast. After the vetting Lancelot was in 24th position eight minutes off the pace.
So Richard, knowing that loop three was an easier one than the fourth and last, decided to catch the leaders and try to stay with them. At the end of the third loop he'd overtaken 22 horses and arrived in second place only ten seconds behind the leader. 200 yards before the line he was off and running whilst Lancelot was still cantering alongside him. However, it had been more than the horse was comfortable with and it took nearly fifteen minutes for the pulse to dip below the magic 64 by which time all advantage had again disappeared. The represent was fine as he'd eaten and drunk and recharged his batteries but Richard decided to nurse him round the last loop for a safe completion so they ran up the hills side by side, and then ran down the hills side by side. Richard doesn't run as fast as a horse so their average speed dropped from 19kph to about 12 but they held their position as all but the superstar horses at the very front were tiring as well.
Cantering across the line in front of the packed cheering grandstand at the end in glorious sunshine was a moment to savour. As it was a 2* competition there was only 20 minutes before you had to present but Lancelot's pulse came down immediately and all his metabolics were fine. Sadly, not his trot up. 120k of sand and 70pc humidity had taken their toll on his tender white heels and he was eliminated slightly lame.
Meanwhile Brigid was out on the last loop and riding so sympathetically I could have kissed her if I'd been tall enough to reach, as it was I just passed her the water bottles. I'd removed the bit and put the reins onto the headcollar so the Minger could drink more easily at the water points and she was bowling along, oblivious to the fact that she'd travelled further than she'd ever been in her life. Her owner, who altogether had five horses competing over the weekend. was astonished that she looked like being the only one to complete its ride as she was the least experienced of them all. But she was ready to vet in ten minutes and gained straight As for all her metabolics and was, as they say in the UK, sound as a pound. Her rider and her shoes had done her proud and they'd averaged just over 15kph.
Watching from the sidelines of the vetgate I unashamedly burst into tears, she might have only come 43rd and not attracted the eye of any wealthy buyers but a happy healthy horse is pretty priceless by my reckoning. After half an hour of letting her graze I went and found an empty double stable so she and Dougal could spend the night munching hay whilst we humans were feted with champagne.
It's a great sport.