Not even close

Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster so many times that, when you went to bed, it still felt like you were on that rollercoaster? Maybe that just happens to me.. Anyway, that's how I felt during the first few nights of the Derby. I would lay down on my mat at night, close my eyes and would still feel like I was gallopping on the steppe. Every once in a while, it would even feel like my horse tripped in a marmot hole and I would jolt awake again. One morning it felt like I'd dreamed about riding all night. I woke up feeling exhausted but I dragged myself out of bed (at 5 am..) to get ready for more. You would think I'd be sick of riding by now? Nope, not even close.


If you followed my dot during the race (apparantly dot-watchers is the proper term for you guys) you may have noticed I never camped out. I normally am such a huge fan of camping but during the Derby it just seemed like too much to add that to the mix as well. I remember very well how annoying it is when you wake up to your horse being gone. Everyone who was at cowcamp that night knows what I'm talking about. 'We lost the horses' was a much used phrase those three weeks.. Anyways, you basically have three options during the Derby: stay at a horse station, wave around your probably poorly translated Mongolian note explaining what on earth you're doing in the middle of nowhere to a local family and stay with them, or put down your sleeping bag next to whatever marmot hole you ended up at before cut-off time. The good thing about being at a horse station is, you get to hand your horse to a herder and crawl into a ger to pass out for the night. When you camp out, you're responsible for making sure your mount gets water, food and, most importantly, is still there when you wake up in the morning. I'm sad I missed out on the awesome stories you get from camping, but staying with the families at the horse stations was a lot easier, even though it might make me sound 'boring'.


Back to the race! They say day three is the hardest and while I am not sure that's true, it definitely wasn't an easy day. Of course it was still raining when we got up. Charles told us it might rain till Monday (it was only Friday) so that really boosted morale.. There was quite a large group of riders staying at HS5 so we all rode off together. The group split up pretty quickly when people disagreed on which direction to take. I went with Tag and Francis, joined by Catherine, Katie, Anne, Mike, Molly and Ava while Esther, Sally, Rendell and Ella went the other way. We eventually ran into Sally and Esther again but we later heard that Rendell and Ella had retired. The first leg of the day took us through a beautiful mountain pass. Unfortunately we couldn't see much because of all the clouds and rain but I remember a herd of mares and foals suddenly gallopping out of the trees right next to us and taking off into the mist, it was pretty magical.

At the next station, I got a beautiful black horse. We were still riding in the big group. The route we took led us through the hills to a valley surrounded by rocky cliffs. The scenery was breathtaking, especially since it had finally stopped raining and started to clear up a bit. That was the first time I really got to enjoy the beautiful landscape we were speeding through. My horse was amazing and super fast. When Francis' horse bolted, mine could easily keep up and ran after him. It was a little scary at first when he just took off like that without much control on my part but I soon realised he was very sure-footed and then it was just a lot of fun! Unfortunately my stomach cramps got pretty bad again during this leg.. I couldn't keep up with the pace some of the others' were going at so we decided to split up the group. Thankfully I didn't have to go alone! We decided to only canter and walk as trotting was just too bouncy. We also opted to stay on the road rather than go cross country in a straight line to the station. This turned out to be a good decision as we made good time and got to the station just a few minutes after the other group did.

The last leg of the day was stressful. The sky had cleared and the sun was beating down on us. The weather had completely turned and it was suddenly really warm. We had a few hold-ups on the way with falls and slow horses and it took a little while to find a path through the bog. We had to push pretty hard as we didn't have a lot of time left. The last few kilometres, our horses were really tired so we had to walk for quite a while. It was getting close to 8 pm. We decided to risk the riding-late penalty as none of us really wanted to spend the night outside, there were no gers in sight. We made it, with only a small time penalty. But apparantly when you survive day three, you'll make it to the finish. I was feeling pretty hopeful when I settled into the ger that night!

When it rains, it pours

My first night on the steppe, I woke up every few hours thinking to myself: I can't do this. I still felt horrible but quitting after only one day was never an option, so I put my wet shoes back on and dragged my saddle back to the horse line to choose my next mount. There were quite a few people at HS2 so it took a little while to get everyone horseback. By the time the herder helped me on, Ava and Molly had already galopped off. Thankfully Ella and Tag were still there as well so the three of us rode out together. If they hadn't been there, I would have probably quit right there and then. We were at the back, it was still pouring and we had only covered about 70 km..

Another thing I learned on the Derby: nothing is really waterproof. My jacket worked great in the (admittedly pretty heavy) rains of Wyoming but didn't last long on the steppe. My waterproof shoes were completely soaked and I realized one extra pair of gloves might not be enough. We had tried to dry our stuff in the ger that night but most of it was still damp. I did have an extra set of clothes on me but I wanted to keep those dry for the night. I don't really mind riding in the rain but the last part of each leg I would be freezing cold. We tried to warm up a bit at each horse station with a fire and some food but it didn't do much for our wet clothes. 

Thinking back, it's pretty crazy how much the terrain changed. We rode along a river bank through a marshy area where Ella's horse almost got stuck in the bog, we passed a small town called a 'Soum' in Mongolian, at another point we rode past rolling hills with wild camels grazing around us and on the next stretch we would gallop across open farmland. Of course when you ride 100 km a day, you're bound to see some different scenery. The crazy thing was, while it was long, it didn't really feel that far. I guess it's because Mongolia is so 'empty'. There was nothing around except for some scattered gers and goats. 

I remember certain bits from the legs we rode. We were trying to figure out where we could trot, or canter, how much we should push the horses and when to let them rest. For me, it was mostly about getting to the next station, ignoring the pain in my stomach and staying on. I couldn't really think of anything else, it felt like I was just trying to survive. Thankfully, Tag was a great navigator so he managed to get us to the stations without any detours. On the way to HS3, I realized for the first time how sure-footed and strong these horses are. My mount tripped in a marmot hole, went a few metres on his knees but got back up and kept going like nothing had happened. 

On the third and last leg of the day, I had some trouble finding a horse. The herders couldn't get a saddle on the first two I picked, they kept rearing and bucking. I ended up taking a bay with a big white blaze. Apparantly, two other riders had refused to take him but I just wanted to get going. It turned out to be a good pick. Francis joined our little group on this leg and all four of us got really fast horses, we galopped non-stop for the first 25 km. About 7 km outside of the station, Ella took a little tumble when her saddle slid forward going down a ditch. Thankfully she wasn't hurt and got the horse back before it bolted all the way back to HS4. We made it to the station just before the 8pm cut off time. I didn't realize how cold I was until we got to HS5 and Cozy, one of the vets, wrapped a raincoat around me. Thankfully, there was a fire going in the ger and some hot noodlesoup to warm up. I survived another day on the steppe!

It's not crazy if we all do it

When you look back on something, it’s weird how quickly you forget the hard parts. The moments that you felt like shit and all the times you cursed yourself for ever attempting something so crazy, it all seems to fade from your memory while the highs remain. Even my ‘I will never do this again!’ doesn’t sound as convincing now as it did a week ago. But don’t worry, for now I am not taking off on another crazy adventure, I need to process this one first.

Because believe me, those moments I mentioned? I definitely had them, a lot of them. Just in case a 70-year old cowboy winning the race makes you think it’s easy, let me tell you: it’s not. I was ready to quit after just one day. I was sick, wet, cold and miserable. Oh and both the horses I rode on the first day were lame. Of course I knew all the things that could go wrong on this race, I watched Erin fall 20 minutes after the startgun fired. I knew that you can’t prepare for everything and that plan’s don’t last long during the Derby. I just didn’t expect my plans to hit me in the face on the first day.

The training days at startcamp helped calm my nerves a little bit. We got to do two practice rides to get used to the horses, test our kit and train with the GPS. I learned that a straight line to the coördinates is hardly ever the right path, Mongolian horses aren’t the crazy, people eating monsters that they had turned into in my head and that you should definitely make sure your stirrup isn’t twisted before you get on. And most of all: luck is a big factor in this race. One of the other riders fell off during training and was suspected to have broken his collarbone. After my injury last year, that was my biggest fear.. I managed to get to the startline in one piece, though I was slightly terrified.


The first part of the first leg went pretty well. My horse didn’t bolt and I didn’t fall off and get trampled at the startline (another one of my fears, don’t judge!). He wasn’t the fastest but he kept up a steady canter and soon we started passing other riders. The first hour is a bit of a blur, I know I rode with different people before finding Ava again. Her horse had bolted from the startline but she was doing well and the two of us continued the first leg with Molly Pearson (USA). That’s when my luck for the day ran out. My horse tripped and ended up being lame. I had to walk almost 10 km into the next station. Thankfully Ava and Molly decided to stay with me.

I barely had time to fill up my hydration pack before we got on fresh horses and bolted out of the first horse station. Literally bolted because my horse was a little excited. We rode through what appeared to me a military training area with fake buildings and abandoned cars everywhere. We had just gotten to a tar road (one of the few tar roads we would see during this race) when I suddenly started feeling really sick. This is where I was happy with the advice Stephanie gave me before the Derby (gross details warning): always throw up on the left side of your horse. Best advice I’ve gotten and already useful on day one.. I can’t recommend it though.

So yeah, add that to the stomach cramps I’d had since startcamp, the pouring rain and the fact that suddenly my excited horse couldn’t seem to go faster than a jog. All in all, this wasn’t going as I had expected. Thankfully the horse seemed alright at a lower pace so we slowly made our way to the second station. I decided to stay the night (it was around 18.30 by then) rather then riding out and camping. Only day one and I was already questioning my sanity for taking on this race.