By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
It is more than a month now since I ended up in the backcountry of Canada on a horse ranch. So far I managed to neither die of cold nor of hunger (thanks to toast and peanut butter) and I also found friends! So no matter homesickness, bruises, snow and frost - being out of high school is worth it. I already had a bunch of adventures and one of the most surprising ones was definitely last Sunday... Howard (just the type of cowboy you would imagine - 70 years old, hat, boots, moustache, even his walk fits into the picture) starts into the morning saying: "take it easy guys, it's Sunday!" - as if... before lunch we already started working with two new horses. Only the traditional waffles on the table remind of my idea of a lazy Sunday. At 3:10 PM Lea and I get dropped off at the pasture with two saddled horses and the task to go and count the other ones. Doesn't sound that hard, does it? At least that is what we think when we start. Okay, 90 horses and a lot of acres, but still - we should be able to manage. It also seems to work pretty well. After half an hour we already found 58 of them and are covered in mud. We also already got chased by a black mare, whereupon all the others had a runaway and we had a whole lot of trouble not to do the same. But at least we found the majority and are now trotting nicely along the fence. Nothing spectacular happens until we have the idea to leave that safety ... Maybe I should mention at this point that we do not have a map or any orientation. We are just supposed to call Howard at some point of time and tell him we are done. He had also dropped a vague sentence like: "there's a swamp area somewhere, just don't go in there". So, just to have said this - it is Lea who says: "look! There's a trail!" - well, she is wrong about that. A few minutes later we stand inmidst of a whole bunch of trees (laying crosswise on the ground) and have no idea how to get forward. We do not really want to give up that fast and go back to the fence - who knows, the horses could be everywhere - so we decide to just race through. And the horses go for it, without caring for our poor knees and feet and legs. I guess you understand how happy we are as there finally is a clearing. It has pretty high grass, but that is alright. The ground feels a little unsteady and bumpy, but the horses get along with that. Of course we already forgot about the swamp and anyway we did not really have an idea what that was. (For everyone who also does not really know: a swamp area in this case is a part of seasonally flooded land with high grass and a lot of half rotten, fallen trees) Although we realize that some steps take the horses sort of far down into the grass we keep going. Until suddenly my horse steps basically into nothing with both of his front legs and we sink that far into the grass, that only my chest and the horses' head are still visible above it. I really feel like this would be the right moment to panic and it is lucky for me that my horse just jumps out again. Up to that point we must have been walking on fallen trees above the actual swamp until suddenly we did not anymore. When Lea and I get that, I feel like I should really be panicking now. Because we still have to get back out. We just turn around and go, hoping with every second that the horses will not do a wrong step again, because of course we can not see where they are stepping on. Those are some very long minutes until we reach the safe forest again. After 3 hours and 20 minutes we finally get back to the truck, but hey - take it easy guys, it's Sunday.