Wednesday, February 16th.
Catch Us if You Can!
We hit the road running at 8am this morning, starting out to Bert Rutten's to see a second gelding in addition to the one we had tried on Tuesday. Another brisk morning but the horses were perfectly behaved, both of them black geldings with impeccable training. Courtenay rode each one with great enjoyment, impressed again by how rideable the horses were. The tall gelding that Courtenay rode yesterday was even more in tune with her today, putting in some spectacular piaffe and passage work, and nailing the tempi changes. The second gelding looked like a slightly smaller version of the first, all black and very modern in type. He was not quite as advanced in his training, but clearly talented and willing, allowing for another pleasant ride for Courtenay. Bert's horses remain light, sensitive, and happy in their work, clearly not being 'muscled' into it despite Bert's imposing stature.



The day was growing warmer, and we had to take out our sunglasses as we turned back towards Germany. Lady Gaga provided the soundtrack again; luckily Evi passed our test of appreciation for Bad Romance. Our next destination would be the farm of Hubertus Schmidt, outside of the city of Dortmund. Another gas station diner along the way, we really are enjoying some fine cuisine on this trip! Did I mention that in many places here, you have to pay to use the washroom (toiletten)? It costs EU.50, regardless of how long you're in there! Energized by soup and sandwiches, off we went again, making only a few wrong turns when Carmen was unlear in her wishes.
Hubertus was riding a horse as the sun streamed through the large windows in his indoor arena. The German team trainer was there for a training session, so we watched quietly from the doorway as Hubertus rode some amazing passage, piaffe, and two-tempi changes on a beautiful chestnut.
The groom readied a large bay gelding for Courtenay to try, walking him in the ring while Hubertus finished his session. Handshakes and pleasantries exchanged, Hubertus then took the horse and mounted up. Never in such a short period of time have I seen so many men with stilts for legs, as I have in the past week! This horse was well over 17 hands, but still Hubertus' legs hung well below his belly. Riders should all be so lucky, as we could see what a huge advantage this conformation is, not only in terms of balance, but also effectiveness.
The gelding, a confirmed horse showing at Grand Prix, clocked through the movements, with the piaffe and passage being particularly exciting. When riding, Courtenay got the feeling that he could have stayed in the piaffe indefinitely, a perpetual motion machine with an on and off switch. Getting a feel for yet another Grand Prix horse, Courtenay's vision of exactly what she wants in a competition partner continued to improve. We bid Hubertus goodbye, time getting tight to make it to Patrik Kittel's farm which was still two hours away.




The time passed quickly, especially for me because Evi was kind enough to lend me her computer with mobile internet access! Most of the time I curse technology, but I must say, being able to respond to my emails while on the road was a thrill. This confirmed my suspicion from the first day of our trip, that indeed, we have travelled into the future! What was the dog's name on The Jetsons?



Speaking of dogs, you should have seen Patrik Kittel's dog! Actually he has a few dogs, but one in particular was quite the entertainer. His name is Ozzy, and god only knows his breeding - I would guess part Basset Hound, and some part collie. I took some pictures of him, though he was hard to catch as he galloped around the indoor arena, playing chase with the other dogs. Clearly Patrik's horse was used to this type of behavior, as he continued in his work without consideration for the dogs nearly running under his legs.



Patrik's farm was stunning as well, the arena and house largely built of bricks, accented by beautiful landscaping visible through the foot-deep snow. The horse he showed us was a striking gelding, bright chestnut with four white socks. Having shown successfully, this horse was delightful to watch, Patrik sitting quietly as he executed the movements with laser precision. Courtenay jumped at the chance to try the expressive gelding, quickly getting a feel for his lightness and sensitivity. After a good workout, the horse was taken by his groom and hand-walked under the insulation of several coolers.



We reluctantly departed the decadence of the farm, regretfully acknowledging the three hours' drive back to Dreieich. At six o'clock, it was dinnertime as we hit the road, stopping only briefly for another gas-station gourmet meal. Halfway through this leg of our journey, with the highway lit only by headlamps, Courtenay admitted that she was struggling to stay awake at the wheel. Evi offered to take over, her effervescence still fuelled by the coffee from our last stop. She took the wheel and Courtenay and I dozed as she piloted us back home. As we neared Dreieich, Courtenay mentioned that she wasn't feeling well. We all noticed a strange odour in the car, which we had initially assumed was coming from the vehicle in front of us. Our concern rose when the propane-like smell remained, long after the Jaguar had turned. It seemed to intensify, and along with it the nausea of our poor Coco. The Beamer managed to make it to our hotel, where we decided it would be best for Stephanie to collect Evi, rather than risk driving any further in the stinkbomb. By this point Courtenay was a haunting shade of grey, grabbing the keys and making a hasty retreat to the hotel room. I told her to go on, as I did my best impersonation of a pack mule, lugging the multiple suitcases, bootbags, and personal items through the hallways to our ground-floor room. When I reached Courtenay, the worst had passed, but there would be several relapses throughout the night.
Regretfully, we cancelled our plans with Evi for the following day. Between the car being of questionable soundness, and Courtenay being of questionable health, it didn't seem feasible to plan for four hours of travel to see the last remaining horse. Grateful for all the wonderful horses and people we'd met in Germany and Holland, we sought rest and recovery here in Christinenhof. Tomorrow is always another day, and for once we may be physically prepared for the long flight home. Those of you who know Courtenay and myself, know that we aren't very good at resting on our laurels, but for one day we will be forced to give our bodies the chance they've been pleading for since our departure 9 days ago.
I will leave you with that, and will be working on a review of our experiences in Europe. As much as we have enjoyed this incredible once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, we will be glad when we return on the 18th, thankful to see our family, friends, and of course, the ponies.

UCan'tDutchThis
Day 8: Monday, February 15th.
Eight hours felt like a heavenly eternity when we woke on Monday morning. Rested and ready to take on the world, we made quick our trip to the cafeteria, where again the hotel provided a lavish spread of cereals, breads, fruits, eggs and meats. Excited to see what Germany and Holland had to offer, Courtenay and I grabbed our coffees and loaded up the BMW. Evi had advised us to bring our luggage as we would likely be staying overnight in Holland. While she was getting a brief ride in on her horses this morning, we headed into town in an effort to find a suitcase to house the anticipated tack purchases. Our mission was a success, as we explored "Real", the German equivalent of Walmart. Loading the new suitcase into the crowded trunk, we hoped that Evi was planning on travelling light!



Evi was just finishing up with her spectacular grey gelding, "Renaissance", when we arrived. We watched him go, noting how much he resembled his sire, Royal Diamond. Stephanie took the horse once he was cool, and Courtenay and I warmed up the Beamer while Evi made a quick change of clothes before joining us. Stuffed to the gills, warm and hopping with German Pop music, our happy little SUV handled effortlessly through the fresh snow.

Our first appointment of the day was at Bert Rutten's stable in Holland. For myself, being unaccustomed to European travel, the concept of travelling back and forth between countries sounds a lot more daunting than it is in reality. Within an hour or so, we were into Holland and with a bit of time to spare, we stopped to lunch with Wayne Channon, a British team rider and friend of Evi's. ` Wayne is involved in the International Dressage Riders' Club, and the ongoing struggle to preserve the welfare of the horse in sport. He spoke about the constant contraversy surrounding the practice of Rollkur, (extreme hyperflexion - google it if you don't know!) and the struggle they are having in trying to establish boundaries on what may and may not be permitted in training and on showgrounds. As always, this topic sparks strong emotions and opinions on both sides. It was an unexpected opportunity to hear an insider's view on maintaining the integrity of the sport.
Satiated by salads, (the others following my lead now) we arrived at the Rutten farm soon thereafter. Here we had the supreme pleasure of watching Bert ride a black gelding, performing all the Grand Prix movements, and reminding us of what it truly means to ride with invisible aids. Courtenay responded with an enthusiastic "Yes, Please!" when asked if she'd like to try the gelding. Tall and leggy, the horse was an attractive match for Courtenay. As she gave him a full test-drive, even Bert had to ask where she had learned to ride like that, nodding in understanding when the Von Hopffgarten name was given in answer. Dietrich truly left his mark on the sport, providing his riders with a seat and style seldom seen in modern dressage. It was evident that the same standards were adhered to on Bert's horses.



Darkness was creeping in as we pulled back onto the highway, consulting Carmen the GPS for directions to our next stable, that of Imke Shelleckens-Bartels. The ETA Carmen gave us was 5:43, only thirteen minutes behind our intended arrival of 5:30. Courtenay stepped on the gas, adamant that we would not arrive late! The Beamer was giving Carmen a run for her money, as the ETA was shaved down to 5:42, then 5:41, and then... nothing. Inertia. What was happening? Traffic had come to a complete standstill, as we painfully watched the ETA creeping back up. Carmen was taunting us - 5:42, 5:43... pretty soon we were at 5:46 and still not moving. Seeing colorful floats and haywagons passing us in the opposite direction, we recalled that Carnavale was still on, and that a parade was likely the reason for our immobility. Gradually the traffic began to trickle along the highway, oversized headless cattle and ghoulish cartoon children turning down the sidestreets on trailers and wagons.
With white knuckles and clenched jaws, we made it to Imke's handsome estate just as the last of the sun disappeared on the Dutch horizon. We pulled through the gate, parked on the brick drive, and entered the elaborate stable. Understanding of our delay, Imke was already on the horse warming up. The cute bay gelding was presented flawlessly, with the large button braids so typically seen on the Dutch horses. Imke showed us his 'tricks', and then put Courtenay up to have a go. I was experiencing technical difficulties at this point, fumbling with drained batteries, full memory cards, and anxiety-inducing 'error' messages on the video camera. Feeling that my position as media supervisor was in jeopardy, I improvised and captured the last moments of Courtenay's ride on her small digital camera. My advice to anyone endeavoring to purchase a horse in Europe: bring multiple cameras! Thanks to modern technology, we have been able to view these videos and pictures at the end of each day, reminding us of the strengths of each horse and enabling comparison between the top contenders. An invaluable accessory, one should also be sure to include a reporter/photographer/general sidekick such as myself!



Leaving Imke, who had been most gracious despite our tardiness, to get to dinner, our thoughts turned again to feeding ourselves. With some difficulty, we found a restaurant, relishing the chance to warm our frozen toes and revive our waning enthusiasm. Holland and Germany seem to be less accomodating when it comes to the English language, as compared to our experiences in Sweden and Denmark. Our Dutch menus and difficulty in placing an order were in this way demonstrative, though we managed to communicate some undertanding of 'salad with meat'. I was glad that I had requested salmon rather than steak on mine, when Courtenay and Evi stared in disgust at the mystery meat bedded on their lettuce. None of us enjoyed this meal particularly, and we were more than ready to procure directions to the nearest hotel and make haste in that direction.
How convenient! The owner of the restaurant had a brother who owned a hotel in the town just down the road! It was a small town typical of Europe, brick and cobblestone streets lined by historical little shops and eateries. We drove in a few circles before deciding to consult Carmen once again, as the directions we received from the restauranteur were proving fruitless. Courtenay pulled the Beamer onto the side of the road, typing street names into the GPS. The three of us were intently focused on Carmen's colorful little screen, when suddenly, Courtenay jumped as her driver's side door was opened! We gave a collective gasp at the young man standing there in a prisoner's uniform, his hand on the door. His invitation of, " You want come Carnavale?" met with astonished silence, and he stood there with his jaw open for some time. Finally Courtenay replied sheepishly, "No thanks!" and closed the door. We all burst into nervous laughter while the guy continued to stand creepily outside the window! He was obviously inebriated, and thankfully his friend walked over from the corner and pulled him aside as we fled the scene.
People, mostly young people, were wandering the streets in all manner of costumes. Mostly brightly colored with crazy wigs, they headed to parties in the pubs and even the town hall. A small group of them hovered under the streetlight in front of what we found to be our hotel. This building looked like it was probably from the early 1900's, charming with the pub below and a steep wooden staircase, (up which we had to haul the aforementioned bevy of suitcases) leading to the rooms upstairs. A party was in full swing as we entered the pub, loud polka-style music cheerfully accompanied by several older patrons in full costumes. One gentleman in particular was down on his knees, performing a parody of some religious ritual while dressed in full pope regalia.
We laughed as we passed through the bar and heaved our way up the stairs. Courtenay and Evi opted to take in the festivities downstairs, while I stayed in the room getting caught up and ready for bed. The party ended early, around 11pm, relieving my friends of their obligation to participate. We all agreed to get some sleep and be ready to leave at 7:15, heading back to Bert Rutten's before returning to Germany where we would visit Hubertus Schmidt and Patrik Kittel.

Day 7: Sunday February 14th.
We'll Sleep When We're Dead.
We thought that we'd had some early mornings this week, but nothing quite compared to the feeling of our REM sleep being interrupted when the phone rang at 3am on Sunday. Our 6am departure time meant we needed to be at the airport no later than 4:30, and though the Hilton was located right across the road, there were still a few last-minute items to be packed. Courtenay's purchases at the tack store in Flyinge made for some forceful organisation of our already over-stuffed, overweight suitcases. We managed to compress everything enough to keep the zippers from breaking, but just barely! With five more days and a couple of tack stores to go, we realised that we - or at least Courtenay - would need to find some more luggage in the near future!


turning in the Ford Focus, aka "Death Trap"

Our flight from Copenhagen departed on time, despite the wintery conditions. Courtenay mentioned to me that she had yet to receive confirmation of our hotel reservation from Evi Strasser, our contact in Germany. Not the type of people to stress small details like accomodation, we shrugged our shoulders and hoped to be able to reach someone upon our landing in Frankfurt.
After a slightly extended fight as we waited for snow to be cleared off the runway, we landed in Germany before 10am. While waiting to claim our luggage, Courtenay remarked that I looked like the walking dead, and that she was a little afraid of me. I told her that she was wise to fear me, as in my sleep-deprived state I was liable to behave irrationally. We gathered our bags and proceeded to our car rental kiosk, where we ended up with a BMW SUV, primarily based on the dimensions of our luggage! The four-wheel drive also put us at ease, having our recent experiences in the Focus permanently branded into our memories.
Luckily we reached Evi's phone immediately, and got our co-ordinates so as to request directions from Carmen the GPS. Poor Carmen took a tumble as we were struggling with mounting her on the window of the BMW. When we asked for directions, she couldn't even figure out what country we were in! Poor Carmen, turns out her SIM card had been jostled loose. After a few minutes of very stressful button-pushing and cussing, we figured this out and soon she was back to herself. We breathed a sigh of relief and followed her directions to the hotel Evi had recommended, noting that Carmen's German accent was far more authentic than her Swedish had been. We reached our hotel around 10:30am, tortured by the inviting beds which we had to resist for the time being. Hotel Christinenhof is a very charming family-owned business, located aside a barn which is home to some world-class driving horses.
After a quick change of clothes we proceeded to the golf club at Neuhof, where Evi told us we would find her.



It seemed strange to us that the barn would be on the same property as a golf club, but it really is a beautiful facility, with it's brick and cobblestones providing old-world charm. Conrad Schumacher owns the facility, where Evi trains alongside Ellen Bontje. After parking at the golf club, we found our way to the arena where we met with Evi and her groom, Stephanie. Evi greeted us as if she'd known us forever, our Canadian residency providing some common ground.



First we saw Evi's outstanding Grand Prix gelding, Action Tyme. She rode him for us and demonstrated all the Grand Prix movements, highlighted especially by his expressive passage and dynamic extended trot. Action lives up to his name, as Courtenay felt when she rode him and tested a bit of all the movements. Next Stephanie brought out Dancing Tyme, a younger up- and- coming black gelding. Evi hopped up and Dancing also earned his moniker, displaying flamboyant movement in all three gaits, and showing off his talent for flying changes.



When we finished in the barn, we went up to the bakery and restaurant for a hot cuppa and some lunch. After only a few hours of being in Germany, it became clear that the climate here is much like ours back home on the West Coast. Although the temperature was similar to that which we had in Sweden, the humidity chilled us to the bone immediately. We passed a couple of hours in the cozy bakery, sharing a table with some strangers who carried on with their own conversations in German. Evi shared with us some of her experiences on the international scene, her lively sense of humor providing some much-needed comic relief to the normally conservative world of dressage. Partway through our meal, I jumped as a woman entered with two large Shepherd-cross dogs, dropping their leashes and allowing them to visit the patrons at her table! Stephanie explained to us that in Germany, dogs are permitted in the restaurants. We experienced this again at dinner, finding it a great novelty when the gentleman next to us brought his Boston Terrier on his lap!
Thankfully, we were able to get back to our hotel room relatively early, with already having had a break in the afternoon to shower and unpack a few things.



Evi mentioned that we could take in the Carnivale in town, which is sort of like a month-long Halloween-style celebration on the streets and in the businesses throughout town. With our current state of exhaustion, we opted to retire after dinner. This meant that we would actually get a decent sleep, giving our bodies the chance they needed to recuperate from the constant sleep deficit we are always fighting. This evening would leave us refreshed and ready to tackle Monday's expedition through Germany and Holland. We drifted to sleep, dreaming of one-tempis, piaffe, passage... and breakfast.

Snow Place Like Home
Our 5:30am wake-up call found us a little weary on Saturday morning, though we were snapped out of the haze of sleep when we looked out the window. Snow had fallen through the night, and now lay as a thick blanket on the narrow roads of Stortorget. The thought of navigating our way through the still-falling snow in our gutless Ford Focus was sobering to say the least. Besides which, we were also going to be on our own today, with no local guide to navigate the roads and highways. Our itinerary dictated a 7am departure to Odense, where we would return again to see the first chestnut gelding whom we had seen on Wednesday morning. Following that, back to the sales barn to see the dark bay "Billy look-alike", and finally around 4pm to see the mare that Pele had shown us.
As we savored our last divine breakfast here at Hotel Statt, we discussed contingency plans, should we have any trouble in the snow. We agreed to head towards Copenhagen, since that's where we had to fly out of the following morning, and re-evaluate from there as to whether to continue on towards Odense. The snow was very heavy and falling fast as we left the hotel, and our ill-equipped vehicle skidded and struggled out of town and onto the country roads.



Jan had been kind enough to write down the address of the barn for us, as well as the phone number of the horse's owner, Jens. Courtenay drove, and I began to enter the information into the "Garmin" GPS, or Carmen, as we have nicknamed 'her'. It helps to have a name with which we can curse this machine when she directs us in the wrong way, or repeats herself in her grating mechanical voice. It soon became apparent that Carmen had no idea how to get to Odense. She had never heard of the town, and refused to recognize the address. Again, as I mentioned on Friday's update, it can require some creativity when entering Swedish and Danish addresses into the GPS system. I tried every combination I could think of, moving the information between the three categories of "street address", "postal code", and "city". Ironically, even though Carmen refused to recognize this location, she continued to try to direct us! Her Swedish accent is even worse than ours, and her phonetic proonunciation of the jumbled street names had lost it's charm at this point. After driving for an hour and covering a distance that should have taken half that time, I opted to phone Jens to inform him of our tardiness and hopefully receive some direction. He was very kind and gave me a rough idea of how to get there, and I told him that we would phone him from Copenhagen. Conditions being as they were, it was looking less and less likely that we would make the trek which normally takes three hours.
Much to our relief, after more than an hour of driving through the dense white pillows, the pavement started to show through as we neared the highway. It was still snowing, and the roads were far from clear, but at least progress could be made with some caution. It was about this time that Jens phoned, and informed us that he had arranged for a friend of his to pick us up at Copenhagen and act as driver for the rest of the trip. This news relieved us to no end and we agreed to meet this gentleman, Henrich, at a local McDonald's restaurant. It wasn't lost on us that this rendezvous point may have been selected with our nationality in mind, thinking that perhaps as North Americans we'd be able to locate a McDonald's by scent alone.
We pulled into the parking lot and immediately guessed that Henrich's car was probably the Mercedes SUV near the entrance. Once parked, we began to gather our things in preparation for the trip with Henrich. Just as we extricated ourselves from the Focus, or Death Trap we were coming to think of it, we saw a gentleman approaching. Extending his hand he introduced himself as Henrich, and promptly opened the driver's side door and got in. Courtenay and I exchanged confused glances before getting back in the car, she in the passenger's seat and myself in the back. Oddly enough, the McDonald's was still closed at 9am, so we asked to stop at the neighboring service station to make use of the facilities. In Sweden and Denmark the restrooms are labelled "Toiletter" and if you ask to use the washroom you generally get a blank stare. Henrich was no exception and only understood when we used the word toilet. In an effort to be efficent and not keep our kind driver waiting, Courtenay and I both entered the building at once, only giving slight pause to the fact that we had now left our rental car with a complete stranger at the wheel! Thankfully he was still there when we returned, and we buckled up as our adventure resumed.
It didn't take long for Henrich to regret his decision to drive the Focus. He basically said, "This is a shit car!" and commended us for having made it this far in the treacherous conditions. We had noted that we hadn't seen another Ford vehicle during all our travelling in Sweden and Denmark, the roads being dominated by Mercedes and BMWs. Nevertheless Henrich handled the car and knew the roads, so as the snow dissipated we began to make up time.
Jens greeted us upon our arrival to the farm in Odense. He showed us in and Courtenay rode the gelding again, this time warming him up herself, and once again finding that the horses respond so much better once they are acquainted with the rider.



After that Jens and Henrich accompanied us to a charming restaurant where we renewed our energy with soup and salads, as well as some warm drinks to defrost our circulatory systems.
From there Henrich took us back to see the bay gelding, who was just over an hour away. His owner and rider greeted us with coffee and brought him into the ring. He was even better today, demonstrating his talent for the pirouettes and showing his willingness in the piaffe and passage work. When Courtenay asked if she could have a little help with an in-hand whip, his trainer responded with our new favorite word, "Absoluuuut!". Really I'm sure it's just spelled with one U, but it's important to emphasize the drawing-out of that last syllable.



Our next destination had us doubling back towards Copenhagen, so Henrich drove us back to the McDonald's. On the way we chatted about horses, bloodlines, and young horse development, as Henrich explained to us that he owned a large-scale breeding operation and always has good young horses available. In fact, he explained that he had bred and sold the Swedish team horse, "Solo's Carex" some years before. We reached our McDonald's where we bid him farewell, pleased to have made another contact in Europe.
Although the snow had stopped falling, it was with trepidation that we set out towards our final appointment for the day. It was nearing 5pm and getting dark out when we left the highway for the snowy country roads. Carmen the GPS was doing her job, and we had about 15 minutes left before our arrival when the fuel light came on. Convinced that Carmen and the Focus were conspiring against us, we imagined being stranded on the snowy plains of Denmark, as temperatures plummeted and the wild boars descended upon us. Normally this nightmare would include bears, but at lunchtime Henrich and Jens had informed us that there were no bears, or moose for that matter, anywhere nearby. This came up in conversation when they asked us about arranging a hunting expedition to Canada, where they hoped to snag some hides worthy of display in their homes. But I digress.
We managed to make it to the humble farm without incident, and I stood shivering with the owner and rider as Courtenay rode the mare. We were surprised to hear that some of the residents in the barn had just returned from a horse show - and here we were afraid to drive our little car! Jens had also mentioned being at a competition earlier that morning with one of his young horses. The sport of dressage really is taken seriously all year round here, not like back home where most people don't ride if the temperatures are unpleasant!
Once finished with the mare, we asked for directions to a gas station and one of the gentlemen there graciously offered to lead us in his car as it was on his way. Never were we so glad to see a fuel station, and the kind man even stopped to make sure we could read the directions on the pump, and that we knew how to get back to the highway. This type of treatment seemed standard during our time in Denmark and Sweden. Whether in part due to our status as 'customers', nevertheless we were made to feel at home and safe at all times. I wouldn't have hesitated to call up any one of the people we had met, had we encountered any problems I know they would have come to our aid.
Our last night in Denmark was spent at the Hilton in Copenhagen, certainly higher in luxury but not beating the character of the little Hotel Statt. Preparing for a 3:30am wake up call, we tried to get more than our standard four hours of sleep, though not surprisingly with all of our correspondence, (primarily Courtenay's Facebook updates) it was close to midnight by the time the lights went out. And so drew to a close our travels and adventures in Scandinavia.
The quality and training of the horses we saw here was simply outstanding. When planning our trip, we had wondered if we would find one such horse, and now Courtenay is faced with having to evaluate several top-class horses, each with their unique strengths and talents. This decision will not likely get any easier as we head off to Germany on Sunday, where over the next 4 days, we will be guided by Canadian team member, Evi Strasser. It will be another whirlwind, so keep checking in!

PS - if you sign up as one of my 'followers', you will receive notifications as soon as updates are posted! It only takes a moment!

Missed Connections
Reflecting on Thursday's marathon trip, we were looking forward to a little easier day this Friday. We were to return to Tullstorp in the morning, and then go on to see a couple of horses that were owned by people we met the previous day. These horses were both stabled at other farms, thankfully a little closer not only to our hotel, but also to the National Stud at Flyinge. We hoped to spend some time, and Euros, at the tack shop there as well.
Day 5 - Friday February 12th.
When we went down for breakfast on Friday morning, it felt like we were two bears returning home to find that Goldilocks had been in our porridge! This was the first time that anyone had beat us to the breakfast table, but thankfully there was plenty left on the buffet.


After breakfast we drove the 15 minutes to Tullstorp, where we were to see again the same chestnut gelding as we had seen on Wednesday. The morning was particularly cold, making Jan's heated indoor seem even more like paradise. Courtenay rode the gelding, who went even better this day, as they had become a little more comfortable with eachother.



At the same time, Jan and his staff were going about their usual day of riding the stallions and horses in training. We saw Jan ride another Briar offspring, this time a very large bay gelding, before handing him off to trade for a young stallion. Jan is very involved in the development of young horses and preparing stallions for testing, and there were both 2.5 - and 3.5-year old stallions being ridden. It was fascinating to see how the training was approached with these young horses, clearly keeping it a game for them where they don't realize just how hard they are working! The quality of these young horses just shone in every step.



Jan was enthused to show us another seven year old stallion, also sired by Briar, and whom they refer to as "the copy" for good reason. Nearly identical in markings, and very similar in shape, he was one of those horses, like his sire, with whom you can't help but fall in love. True to the Briar stamp, he displayed the trademark piaffe and passage, as well as some of the best pirouettes we'd ever seen! Just when we thought he was done, Jan offered Courtenay the chance to "sit up" on him. Like a kid at Christmas, Courtenay's eyes lit up as she rode around with a huge grin on her face. You could see this would be a moment not soon forgotten!



Once the riding was finished we joined Jan for coffee in the upstairs lounge, taking advantage of one more chance to warm up before continuing on towards Flyinge.
It was at this time that we began experiencing technical difficulties. Our understanding was that we were to meet someone at a barn close to Flyinge, at 1pm. We had been instructed to phone this individual to confirm time at some point in the morning, but we didn't seem able to get the call through from Courtenay's Blackberry. After several attempts, we decided to make our way in that direction anyway, thinking that if nothing else we could show up at the barn and try to get in contact with the rider from there, killing some time in the nearby tack shop if necessary. Thinking that things might not go exactly according to plan, we thought it prudent to touch base with our second contact, who was scheduled to show us another horse later in the afternoon. Our problems continued, as we could not reach this person either! So we went with our original plan, since we were half way to Flyinge at this point.
Over the previous days, we had come to the conclusion that not all properties here have exact street addresses. Some do, but others merely have a postal code and a name, ie Tullstorp. In most cases the names seem to coincide with the name of the surrounding area. Whatever the system is, I have yet to completely decode it, which can make it difficult when the GPS requests a complete address! In this particular instance, this incongruence would prove challenging. Sparing the reader from the boring details of several u-turns, much confusion, and a whole lot of cursing, let me just say that at one point we did find ourselves driving backwards down a deeply snow-covered country lane with ditches on either side, a dumptruck headed towards us and gaining ground far more quickly than our Faulty Ford Focus could move!
Eventually we did find a barn that resembled the description we had been given, but we still had not been in contact with anyone. We drove into the yard but couldn't locate a human being, so finally we accepted our defeat and decided to ease our disappointment with some retail therapy at Flyinge. Courtenay selected some stunning double bridles for her horses back home, while I opted to save my Euros for Germany, where we'll be next week.



With a few more miles on the ol' clunker, horses ridden and money spent, a stop at the pastry shop on the way home was all we needed to complete the day. Being finished before dinner time is always a novel concept for us, and you might think that we'd use this opportune Friday night to paint the town red. However we were pretty sure that the 'town' of Stortorget was not quite ready for us, and we didn't want word of our antics to get back to our newly established contacts.
With that in mind, and spending some well-deserved down time in the hotel, we were able to catch up on a bit of correspondence with the folks back home, and address other important business such as attending to this much neglected blog!
Tune in again tomorrow for our return to Odense, and escapades in Saturday's early morning snowstorm...

From the Road...
I may be no Jack Kerouac, but I am literally writing this from the road, as we are making our way towards Copenhagen yet again. We're heading to Odense and beyond to look at horses today, but before I get into the details I must fill you in on what has happened since my last update!
Day Four - Thursday February 11th
We awoke Thursday morning at five am, ready to face the day, the four hours of sleep that we managed having provided us with a renewed vigour. We were to meet our guide for the day, a Swedish-born Floridian horse broker named Pele Wedenmark, at the Copenhagen airport. Before leaving that morning we indulged again in the fabulous breakfast provided by our hotel. This spread is served daily at 6:30 am, and includes standard breakfast fare such as bacon, eggs, sausage, and cereals, in addition to several varieties of breads and crackers, fruits, meats and cheeses. It has been a welcome treat and chance to discuss our itinerary for the day.



The trip into Copenhagen, or Kobenhamn, as the locals call it, was more familiar to us now, and the hour and a half went by in a blink as we arrived for our rendezvous at 8am. Pele met us there at the Hilton hotel. He had been referred to Courtenay by a mutual contact, and he and Courtenay had at this point only communicated via emails and text messages. Luckily we were easily identifiable, standing out from the business suits in our breeches and warm outerwear!
Pele greeted us with a warm smile and handshake, and escorted us out to his waiting Mercedes. On the hour-long drive to our first destination, we chatted about the shows in Wellington, where Pele conducts a lot of his business. He told us about having grown up in Sweden, and his frequent trips back to show horses to clients. We arrived at the barn after a snowy drive through the rural district. This barn was more modest than those we had visited the previous day, and it's coziness reminded us of our own Ridge Meadows back home. We were greeted by an unassuming bay mare, who completely changed our impression of her the moment she started to move. Immediately we were impressed by her expressive gaits and focus in her work. Courtenay had a great time riding her and as we moved on from that stable we were excited to see what else Pele had to show us.
Looking at the map, it did appear that we were going to cover most of Denmark and Sweden in the coming hours! We were trying to make a 1pm ferry ride, but already time was tight as we were on the road again after 11am, with one more horse to see on the way. It was looking good, based on the GPS telling us that we should arrive at the next farm at 11:24, and Pele doing his best to make it under that! There was a collective tension in the car as we seemed to enter a residential area with the GPS predicting our arrival in six minutes. Sure enough, the final instruction was to turn into the yard of a small townhome! This elicited a few choice words from the three of us, although we were all pleased enough with the morning's results to be able to laugh about it. After a brief phone call we determined that we had entered the wrong postal code, but were in fact not too far from the next horse. It was decided that the horse would be warmed up when we got there, although at this point it was clear that we weren't going to make that 1:00 ferry.



The farm this horse was stabled at had the more modern 'sales barn' feel to it, with immaculate grounds and a beautiful facility. One thing we noted that had been consistent at all the farms we visited, was that without fail there would always be music playing in the arenas. Better yet, it seemed that regardless of the patrons of the barn, the music would always be of the "Top 40" and hip-hop variety. We had a little chuckle as we thought of certain people back home who always curse our music choices in the barn! As Pele remarked at one point in the journey, "Lady Gaga is making money, eh? I love her!". This of course endeared him to us as he danced in the car, grooving to "Bad Romance" and "Poker Face".
Back to the topic at hand - this next gelding immediately grabbed our attention with his stunning good looks and charming character. He reminded us of Courtenay's "Billy", only bigger in size and, (sorry Billy) possessing a little more movement. His rider, a young gentleman, impressed us as he showed us all the movements in the Grand Prix, and told us of his recent success in showing at Intermediare I. Also of note, and probably typical of the larger sales barns such as this one, was the remarkable turnout of both horse and rider - the horse's coat gleamed and the rider was co-ordinated with his brown and orange jacket being complemented by brown breeches and caramel boots. We may be horse girls, but we always appreciate these little details!

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After Courtenay rode this gelding, and we commented on how fun it would be for her to have a matched pair, we hit the road again and decided that missing the ferry wasn't all bad because we could stop for a quick bite to eat. With the type of travelling we're doing, mostly on the highways and then into the countryside, there aren't a lot of fine dining establishments en route. Quite prevalent in the area are tiny roadside diners, typically attached to gas stations. The food in these quick-stops doesn't really fit in with the "healthy lifestyle" I have adoped in recent years, consisting primarily of hot dogs, french fries, and weird fish on crackers that I prefer to avoid. We were able to identify a couple of innocuous looking sandwiches, and accompany them with some exceedingly stale coffee before jumping back in the car to make the next long leg of our journey. To cleanse our palates of the resulting bitterness, and jolt some enthusiasm back into ourselves, Pele shared with us some very addictive and much appreciated Swedish candies. I don't think he expected us to devour quite so many as we did, but thankfully we had the opportunity to top up his supply later in the day!
With the ferrry leaving every two hours, we were faced with the decision between sitting to wait for over an hour, or driving around this body of water to the remote farm we were going to visit. Pele felt that he could save the most time by driving around, so off we went, positively effervescent in our sugar-and-caffeine-induced cheer. The sun was shining as Snoop Dog serenaded us down the highway.
After some hours of snoozing on and off in the back seat, I awoke as we were nearing the next farm, very far into what seemed like the depths of Denmark. This area had several lakes dotting the landscape, and the long driveway to the barn edged quite close to one of these snow-covered expanses. The farm was owned by a gentleman who was described to us as an outstanding trainer, a man who had produced several top riders and horses over the years. His personality was evident upon our arrival, when he announced, "Oh, pretty girls! Here we only sell pretty horses for pretty girls!" which caused both of us to blush, and immediately reminded us of a certain German man who we used to ride with!
The barn was older but very workmanlike, every bit as I would picture a traditional Danish farm, the outbuildings resembling a Tudor style. The highlight of this stop was a young gelding with a truly international talent for passage, and a trot that would give Totilas a run for his money! At seven years old, he was not yet confirmed in all of the advanced movements, but he impressed us nonetheless. We saw a couple of other horses here but he really was the standout. Within moments of Courtenay beginning her trial of this gelding, the owner bellowed across the arena, "STOP! STOP!!!". Everybody froze, and Courtenay brought the horse to a halt, sheepishly expecting that perhaps she had committed some unknown sin against dressage. Imagine her relief when the fellow complemented her, "You sit very well. I like how your ride - you may buy one of my horses. Continue!". I got no such praise but at least I got the chance to warm up a little myself (did I mention that it was still bitterly cold?) by hopping on a cute little gelding that Pele was evaluating for a client back in the US.
From there we resumed our mission, with one last stop to make before the long drive home. Pele explained that there were two horses to see at this next farm, which was about two hours away. We refuelled, both with gasoline and sugar, and hit the road with an ETA of 6:45 pm. We made good time and only as we drove up the street to the farm did we realize that we'd be entering the renowned Blue Hors Stud, home to popular stallions such as Blue Hors Don Schufro, Don Romantic, Romanov, and more.
We shivered as we got out of the car and entered the barn through a cozy cafeteria that looked into the riding hall. Here we could see a couple of young girls dining at the long wooden tables, as the kitchen area adjoined the dorms for grooms and working students. What a place to live, I thought to myself as I imagined having been there at eighteen.
We moved along to the barn, and learned that we would be seeing two horses here, both Geldings who were schooling most of the Grand Prix. The first was an elegant bay, presented well by one of the young staff of Blue Hors. The second was a striking gelding by Don Schufro, very handsome and impressive, and ridden by one of the in-house trainers. Again, even at such a prestigious arena, we noted the popular music playing in the background. Bright and modern, the arena was decorated with flowers and accented with the trademark blue and white colors of Blue Hors. The barn gave a very professional air, a place with a sense of order and routine.
It was about 8pm when we pulled out of Blue Hors, and got back on the highway for the long drive home. We agreed that we simply couldn't continue without having a real meal to sustain us, and located a charming Italian restaurant nearby. Pasta was the order of the evening for my companions, while I of course stuck to my vegetables and tuna steak. I needed to repent for all the candy that had been consumed that day! I'm sure I'll have at least one cavity when I get home.
We returned to the Copenhagen airport and bid farewell to Pele. He had been a delightful chaperone and we were glad for the time and effort he had put in, selecting such talented and suitable horses.
By the time we dragged ourselves up the hotel steps, it was after midnight. I'm sure the receptionist raised an eyebrow as we clomped through the lobby in our dirty boots! We managed to get showered and climb into our beds in short order, taking solace in the fact that Friday's appointments were not to start until the civilized hour of 9am.

Greetings from Dusty and Courtenay in Sweden!
First off I must apologize for the delay in commencing my reports from our Excellent European Adventure. As one might imagine, it has been a whirlwind these past few days, with scarcely enough time for meals, much less sleep! It's hard to believe that today is day five since our departure on Monday. However I fully intend to fill you in on as many details as possible, so grab a seat!
DAY 1 - Monday February 8th
The excitement of the past few months finally began to culminate on Monday morning, as we made our last minute preparations for our scheduled departure from Vancouver at 3:45 in the afternoon. Anyone who has spent time with Courtenay and myself in close proximity, can only imagine the energy level on the car ride into town!
Everything went smoothly with our flight leaving on time and in good weather conditions. The plan at this point was to arrive in Frankfurt at approximately 11am on Tuesday the 9th, for a short layover before the connecting flight to Copenhagen departing at 2:05pm. Upon arrival in Copenhagen, we were to make the one and a half-hour drive to Hasselholm, Sweden, and our reservation at Hotel Statt. Thinking that we should be there around 5:30pm, we had arranged to view a couple of horses at Jan Brink's stable, which is only 10 minutes from the hotel. Unfortunately, due to the unseasonably cold temperatures and winter weather conditions in Europe, our flight was delayed and actually departed at 3:45. We were able to notify Jan of our delay from Courtenay's laptop in the airport, and still planned to make the trip to his farm that evening. Upon landing in Denmark we were faced with a minor discrepancy with regards to our rental car, and faced another hour's wait while they readied the vehicle. At this point it was looking like we wouldn't be in Hasselholm until 7:30pm, and in our travel-weary state the decision was made to forego the evening's plans and rather try to catch up on some sleep at the hotel - neither of us had slept much on the plane, as we anticipated the amazing horses and people we would see and meet here in Europe. With the 9 hour time difference, this meant that we had now been awake for close to thirty hours. Nevertheless our spirits were high as we loaded up the Ford Focus and headed out onto the highway.
I must say that whoever invented the portable GPS is my hero. By entering the hotel's coordinates, we were immediately provided with directions from the airport. The road names in Denmark and Sweden, with either a surplus or complete lack of vowels, made for entertaining fodder on our journey. Denmark and Sweden are connected by a bridge, one of the largest we have ever seen. We experienced some mild confusion when passing through the tollbooth preceeding this bridge, partially due to the language barrier when deciphering all the signs, but also the slight delerium we were experiencing at this point in the evening! As we pulled up to the toll, we were surprised to find no attendant, only a machine with a number of symbols and words written in what looked like gibberish. Courtenay was able to identify a help button, and we were relieved to hear a human voice when she pressed it. This relief was immediately and momentarily replaced by sheer terror when the voice recited what sounded like a borsht recipe from the Swedish chef on the Muppets. Luckily our whimpering English was acknowledged and this human being appeared from what seemed like nowhere. Apparently very large and beautiful bridges cost a lot of money to build and maintain, as we surmised based on the toll fee of 39 Euros! Our reaction must have been evident, as this woman exclaimed, "Bit of a shock, eh?! Haha, You're in Sweden now!" giving us a bit of a chuckle as we headed off towards Hasselholm.


Hotel Statt is in a small city called Stortorget in Hasselholm. The drive from Copenhagen took us through a lot of rolling countryside, and although it was dark the snow provided some illumination, making our trek into the unknown slightly less intimidating. The houses here are all done in a quaint country style, looking very cozy with little lanterns in every window. As we neared the city of Stortgart, the landscape changed to narrow roads with small shops and brick buildings, with Hotel Statt facing onto the town square. Incidentally, with the snow covering the cobblestones, we actually mistook this town sqare for a parking lot and drove right through the middle, luckily going unnoticed as the town seems to shut down after 6pm.
The evening started a little rough when the hotel's internet connection had failed upon our arrival, rendering us incommunicado with our friends and family back home! For Courtenay and I, who rely on emails, texting, and checking Facebook roughly one hundred times a day, this isolation fostered some minor anxiety to say the least. Much to our relief, the connection had been restored right before we went to bed, so we were able to at least notify family members of our safe arrival, and collapsed into bed at around 10:30pm. Exhausted but pleased to have completed the day's travels, we checked into our hotel room, ran down for a quick snack in the restaurant, and prepared to settle in for the night.
Day 2 - actually it's day 3 now because it took us two days to get here! Wednesday Feb 10th



Wednesday was now to be our first day of horse ogling, beginning at 7am and being picked up by none other than Jan Brink himself. Despite our long journey, neither of us had been able to sleep much more than two hours. The time difference combined with our excitement kept us awake, and by morning we had each had about 4 hours of sleep over the last 48! Thankfully caffeine and adrenaline kicked in to pull us through. Jan and his wife Catharina picked us up in their Mercedes and we jettisoned down the highway - at least initially - until we had an interesting altercation with a middle aged woman who had chosen to 'play police' as Jan said. We had been cruising along in the left lane, and the drivers here are generally very good about yeilding over to the right to allow the faster drivers to pass. This particular citizen, it seems, felt that courtesy was unneccessary and seemed to intentionally slow as we desceded upon her. Some hand gestures were displayed, and she seemed to speed up, if only to repeat this exercise several times! According to our hosts, it is an offense to use the right lane to pass, so they couldn't possibly do so, and subsequently we continued to tail this Volkswagen at various speeds, at times as slow as 20km/hr on a 100km/hr highway! Much gesticulating and laying on the horn was accompanied by a steady stream of high-volume Swedish being spoken by and between Jan and Catharina. I can only assume that some of these words were 'colorful', but perhaps I am mistaken. As you can imagine, Courtenay and I were in the back seats giggling like schoolgirls, seemingly being the only people to see the humour in this situation! In any event the driver of the Volkswagen must have seen and heard this display, and eventually brought her vehicle to a complete stop, right in the middle of the highway! Drivers in the right lane blew by, honking their horns and shaking their fists, as this woman exited her vehicle and approached us. Courtenay and I tried not to laugh too obviously as the Swedish yelling contest ensued at our window, only drawing to a close when Catharina picked up her cell phone and - very loudly - calling the police. The woman got back in her VW and finally admitted defeat, pulling into the right lane. This certainly made for an interesting start to the day!
Luckily the day did improve from there. We dropped Catharina in town to take the underground train to her job as a lawyer in Copenhagen, and continued on to our first destination, a barn in a town called Odense. Here we saw a lovely chestnut gelding who, although not yet showing at Grand Prix, impressed us with his top-class talent for piaffe and passage. From there we moved on to a beautiful barn a little further into the countryside. It was and still is very cold, generally around -4 degrees celsius, with an ever-present bone chilling wind. This barn was very ornate with beautiful brass stall fronts and cobblestone aisles, as well as a beautiful setting like something out of "The Sound of Music". The only thing missing was some insulation from the frigid cold! Here we saw another talented gelding, this time a bay, with very lofty gaits. The owner must have noticed us eyeing the horse's tail, as she immediately spoke some Swedish to Jan, who explained to us that the horse had torn out a large portion of his tail, and so for esthetic purposes they had employed the use of a false tail while showing the horse. You know what they say, the clothes make the man!


As an aside, we noticed that most of the barns here have the most fabulous footing in their indoor arenas. Neither of us has seen this material back home; it's a blend of wax, fibre, and sand. It seems to provide a lovely spring for the horses, and never requires watering because of the wax content. It also comes in different shades! Jan Brink uses this footing at his barn as well, which was our next stop.



If you've ever visited Jan Brink's website, www.tullstorp.nu, you will have some idea of the luxury that is evident in every detail on his farm. From the hand-made rock walls surrounding the 50-acre estate, to the in-ground LED lights that line the shedrows of the stables at night. The exteriors of the buildings are all decorated in the traditional style, with wrought-iron lampposts and hedges surrounding the yard as well as the two outdoor arenas. There are several buildings on the property, as in addition to Jan's beautiful home there is the main barn, a stallion barn, riding hall, and several houses for grooms and visitors. Jan explained to us that the property has the capacity to house up to twenty-two people, including their eleven on-site staff members.
Here at Tullstorp, we were shown a stunning Chestnut gelding by Briar, (same sire as my Brianna) who is schooling all the Grand Prix. It was immediately evident that a correct, systematic training routine has been used as this horse has moved up the levels.



His young owner showed him to us first, before Courtenay climbed aboard and put him through his paces. After the horse had been worked, we were lucky enough to have Jan give us a private tour of the facilities, the highlight of which for me was of course getting to step into Briar's stall and pat him on the nose! As one might suspect he is a total pocket pony and seems to exude an air of quiet confidence in the knowledge that we are all there to see him.
It was getting late so we headed back to the hotel to quickly change before dining at a local restaurant with Jan and Catharina. They are both very warm and gracious people, and regaled us with stories of some of the visitors they have had over the years. Jan also shared some of his views on training, teaching, and running a business in this crazy horse world. He was very encouraging in speaking of young trainers who had learned a work ethic at an early age, versus others who may have had it easier growing up and found it too much of a struggle getting started in this business. Courtenay and I both shared of our experiences in riding and working with Dietrich, and what a struggle it was for both of us to have lost our mentor. Jan agreed on the importance of having such a person to look to in regards to not only training, but the overall picture of life in the horse industry.
Feeling warm and fuzzy after a long day, we retired to Hotel Statt and fell into bed once again. Stay tuned for the next installment, wherein we visit horses in Denmark as well as Sweden.