It wasn't just their riders, or their horses, or their final placings, but their concerted participation and effort as a team, that everyone had to have noticed. Wherever there was one Belgian rider and horse, there were a group of Belgians, whether it was for Karin Boulanger, who led on all but the first loop of the 160 km; or waiting at the finish line as the sun was setting for Audrey Olmanst to come in 8th in the 160 km; or holding their breath collectively in a group for Rachel Jaumotte's horse's final 160 km trot out; or consoling Ernesto Mariotti, whose horse vetted out lame after the first loop of the 120 km; or gathering before - and after - the awards presentations on Sunday. They were a Team, and this day they happened to be a very strong one at that.
Thirty-seven horses left the starting line near the stables at 5 AM, with just enough light to see the way without headlamps. It was a cool and damp 12*C at that hour, with little whisps of fog crawling over the mountains to the south of the Gubbio valley. The Endurance Village was slow to wake up - I was sure hovering around the restaurant waiting for the cappuchino machine to be turned on - you wouldn't know there were some horse races going on throughout the surrounding countryside, with 26 more horses starting on the 120 km ride, and 19 on the 93 km ride.
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Official CEIO Results (PDF) |
It is the fitting symbol of what this event, and the other CEIO Nations Cups in Europe (this year: Belgium, France, Italy, Portugal) are aiming for: a highly competitive endurance circuit for team competitions, which can only strengthen the sport of endurance throughout the world, by involving and developing more top class riders from all nations. Race organizers Nicolas Wahlen of Compiegne, France, Pierre Arnould of Belgium, Paulo Branco of Portugal, and Fausto Fiorucci of Italy, are strong supporters of this new aspect of international endurance.
The Gubbio Endurance Village, replete with its multi-nations' flags flying overhead, white picket fences, and bright flowers decorating the lanes and restaurant, filled with people and horses at 3 in the afternoon for the vet inspections. Coinciding with the beginning of the trot outs were dark threatening clouds rapidly filling up the sky above. It had been extra-clammy humid all day, so you could guess what was coming.
The sky is clear in the mornings, but by 1 PM, thunderclouds start building somewhere in the sky. By late afternoon, there is a rainshower and thunderstorm within sound range (if you can hear thunder) or sight. Yesterday evening it suddenly got dark when the layers of clouds clashed directly overhead, whipping a cool wind through the narrow, labyrinthine streets, sending restaurant owners chasing after their blowing-away signs, and short-sleeved Gubbians running for their doorways. The lights flickered a few times, and a small half-hearted rain shower got one side of the street wet. The weather should be the same for Saturday's races.
Today by afternoon, over a dozen horses, and some extra riders, had arrived at the stables.
Yesterday evening, Fausto said "Come with me to get a sledgehammer." We walked halfway across the vet area and he said "No, my car is back there! We walked right past it! Why didn't you tell me!" I thought we were walking to get the sledge, but he'd intended to drive. We walked back to his car and drove across town, when suddenly he threw his hands up in the air, like he forgot something, and we turned around. Yes, indeed, he forgot to turn off at his house! "What do you call it when a man forgets his house!" I said, "Too busy!"
I went into the old part of the town, where the ancient walls beckoned from up high. I found a road that wound up and up, that eventually led me right up to some remains of the old walls. A barricade across the road said No passagio - and I wasn't sure if that was for cars or people, so I turned back. But, in so doing, I spied a small, barely used trail, but definitely a trail, leading up behind the old wall, and below a no-trespassing orchard. So I followed it, the way partially covered by grass and blackberry vines.
After 3 train changes and a bit of adventure, I got off in the little village of Popoli - I'm not sure if you'll find that on too many maps - in the Abruzzi region (in the center) of Italy. It's in the foothills of some surrounding mountains that provide plenty of skiing in the winter, and plenty of horseback riding activities and hiking in the summer. A few people got off the train here with me, and there was only one person waiting at the station: Adriano Marrama. He didn't speak English, and my only Italian words are those that happen to be the same as the few Spanish words I know - in other words, it was hopeless. We tried and tried to communicate, but other than the weather, and scenery, it was pretty hopeless and we just laughed at each other.