What does such training look like? I simply borrowed a horse for a few weeks and rode through the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. It’s not very easy, comfortable or safe. In fact, it’s not safe at all (good old hitchhiking!). But it’s great.
In this post, I’m happy to share how such preparation for riding goes.
Phase 1, i.e. the preparation phase of the preparation phase
I made a list of skills that one might need to know in order to ride independently and safely from place A to place B.
The list grew regularly with more and more activities until it visibly exceeded the capabilities of one ordinary human life. So the crossing out phase began: “This activity would be useful, but I don’t necessarily need it, I can do without it.” Skills crossed off include: the art of hunting animals with a stone slingshot, fishing with a wooden spear, learning about edible plants and herbs for tea, a weapons passport for international shotgun hunting, advanced Krav Maga self-defense, advanced mushroom hunting, and navigating mountains with lichens.
The following activities remain on the list:
Kyrgyz.
Kyrgyz is almost the same as Uzbek, a few lessons will be enough for that. Well, not exactly the same, but I’ve found that when I answer Kyrgyz questions in Uzbek, the locals usually understand me. Oh, yeah. That was easy. Where Uzbek isn’t enough, Russian will help.
Horseshoeing.
Searching for a basic horseshoeing course in the Czech Republic, or “rasp the irregularities in the horn, clip off the excess and knock back the dropped horseshoe”, I found that there is no such thing. Either there are really long courses for future pro horseshoers, or people learn it at home. Luckily, I got this punk course in mountain hoof care right here in Kyrgyzstan. Unfortunately, it’s not like if you drop a shoe in Kyrgyzstan, you call a local pro shoer, he will come with Lada Niva to your place and professionally fix it. Local horseshoers often do it worse than you, because they will take any horseshoe and hammer it on any hoof “where the holes are”.
First aid for horses.
I’d really like it if there was some sort of first aid course for horses. I’m in the mountains, there’s no village five days walk on all sides of me, my horse has colic, what do I do? Unfortunately, I haven’t found one either. So I took a crash course in Kyrgyzstan on how to inject local colic medication and antibiotics into the muscle, what to do if the horse has colic, and what to do in case of open wounds. I’d be happy to add to my knowledge if anyone knows how 🙂 In the Czech Republic you always have a vet on call, but in the mountains it’s either you help the horse or you just pray that he pulls through on his own. You can’t rely on the locals in this regard, they don’t really do any medications or disinfectants for the horse.
Tying the horses up for the night.
You can’t learn that in the Czech Republic, you have to learn it from the locals on the spot. In every region they do it completely differently and they have taught their horses that way.
Feeding the horses during the ride.
The local horses were used to only grass and hay, which made it both easier and harder. You will need to choose your route so that there is really rich grazing each day, and also plenty of time to graze. If grazing ran out in some places, the route would have to be changed, you can’t take hay with you on horseback and they are not used to the oats (they would have to get used to it gradually).
Navigation in the mountains
For navigation, Garmin won in the end, only they forgot to tell me that the older model no longer supports navigation by satellite imagery maps. So in the end Google maps were the best for navigation anyway :). Only in the areas where they didn’t work, Garmin came in handy, just without the satellite images, for that I would need a newer model of the device.
Food preparation (this time for humans – that’s how it is, I deal with horses first, then humans).
“Wow, how much food do I need? I’ll be able to buy some when I get to a grocery store, which works out at one breakfast, lunch and dinner a day at about….sixty kilos per person. Ouch. Oh, [bleep]. Can’t I eat prana for a while? Oh, yeah, this topic better not be brought up right now, right.” Or change my route so I meet at least one store every fortnight? In the end, after a lot of consultation, the freeze-dried Adventure menu won out, coming in at fifteen kilos for the whole time instead of sixty – because regular food weighs so much that it’s just not transportable in a horse bag for that long.
Rain gear.
“I’m going to try to expose this great Jurek trekking raincoat to a 15 minute shower, and if it can handle it, I’ll take it.” Hint: none of the trekking raincoats did. The winner was an XXL PVC raincoat for 125 CZK from Hradec Králové Construction, where they looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if their raincoat could handle an hour-long thunderstorm. “And why would the workers stand on the construction site in the rain if it’s raining?” The salesman replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The workers would go for shelter, and Lucie would stand somewhere under a bare hill beside her horse in the rain, getting happily wet.
It should be noted that the waterproof neoprene chaps, the impregnated leather chaps, the Australian coat, the waterproof army bags of the British, American and Czech army, the boat bags of several brands, the riding boots, the snow boots, the tarp, three kinds of the tent’s fabric, two waterproof trousers, the impregnated gloves and one plastic drying rack for all the laundry did not survive the shower test. And my nerves… I came to a startling realization: waterproof riding gear just doesn’t exist. So I had one pair of pants made out of tent felt. (Hint: Waterproof riding pants still don’t exist, Kyrgyz rain beats mine 45 to 0).
