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Spanish endurance rider Bernat Casals picked me up from the Florac ride and hauled me home with his horse to Catalonia, Spain. Fortunately for me, he speaks good English (and is always soaking up new words) and was happy to talk on our 7+ hour journey, along the south coast of France, into Catalonia, in the very northeast of Spain, into the 'pre-Pyrenees' foothills.
Catalonia has its own language, culture, and history. Bernat said there are still some who would prefer being an independent country... but he's far too busy to think about those things.
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I woke up... in Spain!! More questions for, and answers from, Bernat Casals:
At first Bernat thought it was a good idea to breed, raise and train his own horses for endurance, but that's 'too much work,' he says (though what they are doing now seems to me beyond too much work!). Now he buys horses, trains them, trains for other people (about 4 for W'rsan Stables in Abu Dhabi), and rides them. He keeps very detailed records of every training ride, how far, how the horse went, what saddle he wore. He in fact works with the man who makes the Zilda saddles, reporting the hours of use with saddles, offering suggestions for improvement, and testing those models out.
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The boys working for Bernat saddle up the chestnut gelding Amazhig for me, I tied Raven in his bag onto the saddle, and off we went for a ride in the pre-Pyrenees mountains of Spain! Mine was a nice horse, very smooth, very responsive. I think he liked me because I scratched his ears, which were so terribly itchy his eyes rolled back in his head as I scratched this insides. We started walking up and up, up 'logging roads,' part of them connecting with a hiker/trekker trail that runs about 100 miles, and will take you through the Pyrenees into France.
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I was Barcelona-bound, hoping to spend a few days catching up on postings, which I did, and rest, which I decidedly did NOT. I managed to get a hotel room in Barcelona the first night, but the city was completely booked the next two nights (some fashion show!), so I went from Barcelona to Monserrat to Berga for hotels each night, and while I did get caught up on my backlogged postings, I spent any 'rest' time looking for hotels, looking for wireless internet places (several places said, "Yes, we have wireless," and when I went in to set up my computer, no, they did not have wireless, and I was unable to connect at Starbucks - darn!), looking for Universal adaptor plugs (the 'universal adaptor' I had was definitely NOT one), a SIM card, and, let's talk about deodorant.
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Bernat and Neus had one trial run last year with a kid's horse summer camp; it was successful, and they enjoyed it, and so this year they are doing it all summer. You can see how much they both love having the kids around - it's just like one big, noisy, happy family. (And did I say fun and NOISY?) Six kids come to stay with them at a time, for 15 days at a time, learning about horses. They ride twice a day - morning and late afternoon; they help fetch, brush, and tack their horses before their rides, and help untack and brush them afterwards, and return them to their pens.
After a huge lunch is served (I am sure Neus will send them home weighing many more pounds than when they got here, with her huge portions she dishes out),
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Today I was going along with Bernat and a load of people to a local ride 1 1/2 hours away, the 3rd Raid (Ride) Hipic Can Vivet, at the Club Hipic Centelles, where a 20 km, 40 km, and 60 km were being held. The Casal family (and the three youngsters Bernat was escorting) would ride the 40 km.
We were off at 7:38, ("only 8 minutes late!"), and down at the bottom of the hill brother Uri and dad Valentine were merging onto the highway with their van and 2 horses. Bernat's crew, two girls and 2 boys (and Peter, who was one of the riders) followed, and we met up with another carload of people on the way. As we passed through Centelles, and turned off the small road onto the tinier, narrower road, one lane only, leading the 200 metres to the basecamp, which looked packed and chaotic, we met a horse van, 300 crew cars heading out, and another horse van. I was so scared we were going to scrape sides, because there was just no room to pull off the road, I had to employ my Sri Lankan Drive-Calming Technique: look out your side window so you don't see what your driver is going to crash into!
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Imagine a competition which is equally a vacation and exploration, amidst the beauty and storied heritage of Andalucía. A point-to-point ride across the breadth of the province, where all stabling, bedding, and forage was ready for your horse at the end of each stage. Where food and drink for riders, crews and staff were amply and deliciously provided, and discounted fine hotel rooms awaited you each night. Where special excursions awaited after the horses were bedded down and all things settled for the morrow. And to turn on the television to find video feeds on the nightly news about the day's results.
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