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#91
Jewel / Re: Journal Entries
Last post by Jewel - Oct 09, 2024, 02:10 PM
Journal Entry


Hidden Among The Gear

Jewel Cartwright

I've been here my whole life and never really had to deal with snakes—until now, that is.

Today started out as a normal spring day. The morning was still a bit chilly, but you could feel the warmth creeping in, the kind that hints at the long, dry days to come. Alex and I were getting ready for an afternoon ride out to one of the far paddocks to check on the calves and start tagging their ears. It's a routine job, one of those tasks you don't really think too much about.

We went through our usual motions—rounding up the horses we'd ride (Ceniza for Alex, Diego for me) from the nearby paddock. Ceniza, as usual, gave Alex that side-eye he does, like he's sizing him up before deciding he's alright for today. Diego was his usual steady self, standing calm as I slipped the halter over his head.

We headed back toward the barn to get the gear together. Saddles, bridles, tagging equipment—all the things we needed were piled up, waiting in the shed by the tack room. It was there, right by the door, where things took an unexpected turn.

I reached down to grab the old saddle blanket I always use for Diego when something flickered in the corner of my eye—a flash of movement so quick it barely registered. At first, I thought maybe it was just a shadow, or the wind shifting something loose in the shed. But then I saw it—a long, smooth shape curled up under the stack of gear, blending in so well that I hadn't noticed it until it was too late.

A snake.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized what it was. I've seen a few over the years, sure—brown snakes mostly, and a few pythons in the high grass—but never this close, never hidden so neatly among the gear. It was coiled up, still, its body barely visible except for the faint ripple of scales along its back.

I froze, trying to remember everything my parents ever told me about staying calm around snakes. Don't move too quickly. Don't startle it. But in that moment, all those years of growing up here on the land didn't matter. Instinct kicked in, and all I could think about was getting Alex and me the hell out of there before it decided to strike.

"Alex," I said quietly, not daring to take my eyes off the snake. "Step back. Slowly."

He didn't question me—smart kid. He moved just like I told him, slow and steady, his eyes darting to where mine were fixed. He spotted the snake almost instantly, and I could see his whole body tense, but to his credit, he didn't panic. He stood perfectly still, waiting for me to take the lead.

We backed away, inch by inch, until we were far enough that I felt like I could breathe again. Only then did the snake move, slithering out from under the gear and disappearing into the brush just beyond the shed. I let out a shaky breath, realizing how close we'd come to an accident that could've turned the day upside down.

It's funny how something like that can remind you of your place out here. For all the years I've spent on this land, there are still moments when nature reminds you that you're not in control. It's easy to forget, sometimes, that we share this space with creatures who've been here long before us. Snakes, like that one today, don't care about your plans or your routines. They're just doing what they do, hiding among the gear, waiting for the right moment to remind you that they're here too.

After a few deep breaths, we carried on, saddling up Diego and Ceniza like nothing had happened. But I couldn't help glancing around a little more carefully after that. We rode out to the paddock, the sun high overhead, and as we worked, I found myself thinking about the balance we strike out here—between what we know and what we can't control.

It's not the first time I've had a brush with danger on the station, and I'm sure it won't be the last. But it reminded me of something my parents used to say: "This land has its secrets, and it'll keep them hidden until it's ready to show you." Today, I think we got a glimpse of one of those secrets.

Happy Trails!
#92
Trakand Stables / About Your Farm - Tell us abou...
Last post by Morrigan - Oct 05, 2024, 10:44 PM
Interview with Morrigan Wolfe -

Well, it wasn't so much as we chose the location as my grandfather did. James Trakand saved Oddwell from getting torn down and turned into a cattle field or the old buildings used for firewood, and our family stayed here ever since. My father always loved the mountains here, the wildlife - especially the horses roaming the area. He found it very inspiring. Admittedly his first efforts at running a stable of his own were geared towards adopting wild mustangs in order to protect them, but he never was much of a businessman. Grandma Vivian said he was a dreamer with dreams to spare. It was my mother who really started to build and shape Trakand Stables, to make a name for herself.

At that point my father had legally changed his name to Wolfe, which was the name he used when painting. Mother chose to take that name on for herself, and when my sister and I were born that was just our family name. Yes, I suppose it's a bit strange, but that was my dad for you. He wanted the distance of a new name, a new life, but he craved the connection to the Trakand family just as badly.

And now I think we've fulfilled that dream of his. I can't imagine Trakand anywhere else and it's certainly come up. We're not exactly close to the big shows or things like that, but I think it's important we remain connected to our roots, to our family and the legacy they built here. We wouldn't exist without that history.


Interview with Renee Wolfe -

Oddwell is weird as shit, obviously. It shouldn't even exist. Like, we're not even NEAR the interstate! Grandpa was insane and an alcoholic so he adopted the place because that's just what he did - made one bad decision after another. I think the only good thing he ever did in his life was marry grandma Viv so he didn't end up broke and living under a bridge.

Don't get me wrong, grandma Viv was also a bit unhinged, but she was able to take it and make art. Look around you, this whole town is beautiful. Really, truly beautiful. It's fucking art, right? But she didn't tear it up and replace it. She took what was here, all the parts my grandpa saved, and made them more. Even Trakand Stables didn't escape her. Once she found out mom wanted to reopen the stable but with show horses she was up in her office for a week designing. Came up with something spectacular too. An impossible dream.

Uncle Jeremiah was pissed I heard. But what grandma Viv wanted she made happen. Period.

Uh, I'm not really sure how uncle Hank felt about it. Sorry Henry Trakand. This interview stuff is awkward, yeah? I think he liked the challenge of it. The concept she'd made. He wanted to see it turned into a reality. Dad didn't care. Didn't appreciate their work. Never did.
#93
Jewel / Re: Journal Entries
Last post by Jewel - Oct 03, 2024, 07:09 PM
Journal Entry


Shine Bright Like A Diamond

Jewel Cartwright

"Heya, Diamond," Jewel said, slipping the halter onto the sleek black mare's head. She gave her a scratch behind the ear, smiling as the horse leaned into her touch. "Well, you've certainly had a good roll, haven't you? Let's go make you shine."

Jewel led Black Diamond from the paddock, the mare's hooves soft against the grassy earth, leaving faint impressions of where she'd wandered earlier that morning. Despite her dirty coat, Diamond still carried herself with the grace and power of the thoroughbred she was—strong, elegant, and full of energy. Spring had a way of waking everything up, and Black Diamond was no exception.

As they made their way to the stables, Jewel noticed Old Ted walking by, a knowing grin on his face.

"Looks like you've got your work cut out for you there, Jewel," Ted called, tipping his hat in passing. His gaze lingered on the muddy streaks across Diamond's black coat, evidence of the mare's playful morning in the paddock.

Jewel chuckled, pausing to give the mare a once-over herself. "I know. I hate and love early spring," she replied, shaking her head at the challenge ahead. She led Diamond up to the hitching rail outside the stables, tying the mare off securely.

The sun was higher now, casting a warm glow over the ranch. The air was fresh with the scent of grass and damp earth, a reminder that the land was waking up, shedding winter's grasp. It was a season of transitions—not just for the horses but for everything around them.

Jewel grabbed a curry comb and began working it through Black Diamond's coat. The mare stood patiently, flicking her ears at the sound of birds singing nearby. The first few strokes of the comb brought thick clumps of winter hair to the surface, loosening the matted fur. Underneath, the sleek, black shine of Diamond's true coat began to emerge. Jewel smiled as the transformation began, her arm working in steady circles.

"So, you ready to start your season, girl?" Jewel asked softly, her voice rhythmic, matching the movements of her brush. She knew Black Diamond was more than ready. At three years old, the mare was in her prime, a racehorse with speed and intelligence, honed by long months of training. The winter had kept them both indoors more than they liked, but spring was here now, and the races weren't far off.

Diamond snorted in response, tossing her head slightly, as if agreeing with the sentiment. Jewel grinned. This mare had always been one to respond, her energy as electric as it was focused.

After switching to a soft brush, Jewel moved to Diamond's neck, brushing away the remnants of winter. Her coat was coming to life with every stroke, shining brighter with each pass.

The familiar sound of hooves on dirt pulled Jewel's attention toward the round pen. Maggie was working the young mare again, her calm voice carrying on the breeze as she guided the horse through its paces. Jewel watched for a moment, admiring the ease with which Maggie communicated with the horse. The connection was there, the quiet understanding that only years of experience could create.

"I see you're working your magic again, Maggie," Jewel called out, her brush still moving over Diamond's side.

Maggie chuckled, looking up from her work. "Every spring's a new challenge, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Jewel nodded. That's how it was on the ranch. Every horse, every season, brought its own set of trials, but also its own rewards. Black Diamond, in particular, had been a project. From a feisty, unpredictable yearling, she had blossomed into a disciplined racer with a winning streak ahead of her.

"Are you planning to take Diamond to the spring trials?" Maggie asked as she brought the mare to a halt.

"Absolutely," Jewel said, stepping back to admire the now gleaming coat of her mare. "She's ready. We've worked hard all winter. The trials will be a good test before the big races."

Maggie smiled. "She looks fantastic. You've got a real gem there."

Jewel patted Diamond's side. "Thanks. She's special, that's for sure." The mare shifted her weight, her muscles rippling beneath the sleek black coat. It had taken time and patience to get her to this point, but the connection Jewel felt with Black Diamond was undeniable. This season, they were going to make waves.

As she continued grooming, Jewel's mind wandered to the upcoming race schedule. The spring trials would be held at the local track in a few weeks, a chance for horses and trainers alike to shake off the winter rust. But for Black Diamond, it was more than that. This was her time to prove herself, and Jewel had no doubt the mare was up for the challenge.

Finishing the grooming session, Jewel stepped back, admiring her work. Black Diamond's coat was a mirror of the spring sun now, gleaming with health and energy. The winter had been long, but they'd come through it stronger, more prepared for the season ahead.

"Alright, Diamond," Jewel said, giving the mare a final pat. "Let's tack you up and see what you've got."

Jewel headed into the tack room, retrieving Diamond's racing gear. She carefully placed the bridle on the railing and laid the saddle blanket across the mare's back. Sliding into place, she positioned the racing saddle atop the blanket and reached beneath to fasten the girth. With a firm grip, she tightened it before grasping the bridle.

"Here you go, girl," she murmured, her voice filled with excitement.

Jewel untied the mare and gently slipped the halter off, settling the bridle into place. Together, they walked toward the exercise track, where the soft earth awaited them. A light breeze stirred, carrying the fresh scent of blooming flowers and the promise of warmer days ahead. The ranch buzzed with the vibrant energy of spring—new beginnings, fresh challenges, and the exhilarating prospect of what lay ahead.

With Black Diamond's coat gleaming and her muscles primed for action, Jewel couldn't help but feel the anticipation rising. This was their time, the season they had been waiting for.

Happy Trails!
#94
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Oct 02, 2024, 10:33 PM
Journal Entry


Part 11: Home Again

Jewel Cartwright

Sitting here on the sofa after dinner, the house is finally quiet. The day's hustle and bustle has settled, and I'm left alone with my thoughts, reflecting on everything that's happened since I got back home and my time away. It feels like I've been away for longer than a month, but at the same time, it feels like no time at all. Funny how that happens.

I can't help but smile as I think about the welcome I got when I first arrived back at Southern Lights Station. Jazzy, Ringo, and Boomer were the first to greet me, of course. I hadn't even stepped out of the ute before they came bounding over, tails wagging furiously. It's like they didn't want to let me out of their sight ever again, and to be honest, I didn't mind one bit. Their excitement—full of licks and playful nudges—made coming home feel even sweeter. They've been glued to my side ever since.

It didn't take long before Dan appeared, dust-covered from a day of working the horses, his usual easy grin in place. He was the first person I saw, his Reining session clearly still fresh on his mind. He mentioned that the arena needed to be watered down before tomorrow—because of course, work at the station never stops. Even after a month in Argentina, that constant rhythm is something I appreciate—always something that needs doing, something that keeps us connected to the land and the horses.

I was so jet-lagged I could barely think straight, but seeing Dan and hearing him jump right back into the day-to-day made everything feel normal again. Like I hadn't missed a beat. It was comforting, in a way, to slide back into the life I know so well.

But even with all that, my mind kept drifting to the new Criollos. They're in quarantine now—14 days before we can officially bring them to the station. I knew that was the protocol, but still, it's hard to wait. Ceniza, Tigre, Esperanza, Lucero, and Solana—I've gotten so used to being around them every day for the last month, riding with them across the Argentine pampas. And now, they're just a few miles away, being carefully monitored and kept separate from the rest of the herd until they're cleared to come home.

After dinner, I sent Esteban a quick email to let him know that the Criollos had arrived at the quarantine facility safe and sound. I told him I couldn't wait to start working with them once they're cleared and finally here at Southern Lights. I made sure to thank him again for everything—the rides, the horses, the unforgettable experience—and promised we'd stay in touch. I can't wait to share their progress with him and maybe even visit again one day.

I went by the quarantine facility earlier today to check on them. They seem calm, adjusting well to the new environment, but it's not the same as having them here, grazing in the paddocks or watching over them from my window. It feels like this quiet anticipation, just waiting for the moment they can finally set foot on Southern Lights. I know they're going to bring something special to the station, and I can't wait to see them settled in.

It's funny to think how quickly things shift. Just a few weeks ago, I was riding those same horses through Argentina, feeling the wide-open landscapes beneath their hooves, breathing in the history and the culture of the Criollo breed. Now, I'm back here, in the house I grew up in, but with so much more in store for the future.

And as much as this trip to Argentina felt like a personal adventure, in many ways, it was like walking in my great-grandmothers footsteps.

Emily had traveled to Argentina decades ago, during a time when this kind of trip was even more of a challenge. She had always been drawn to the Criollos—their resilience, their intelligence, their spirit. And it was that passion that led her to start the Criollo breeding program here at the station. She had seen something in those horses, a strength and adaptability that she believed would thrive here in Australia. And she was right.

I still remember the stories my parents and grandparents used to tell me—how Emily would ride across the pampas with the Argentine gauchos, selecting the best of their horses to bring back home. Those horses were the foundation of everything we have now, the cornerstone of our breeding program at Southern Lights.

And here I am, decades later, following the same path she once walked.

It was impossible not to think of her as I rode through Argentina with Esteban and his horses. Some of the bloodlines that ran through their veins were directly linked to the Criollos we already have here at Southern Lights. It was surreal to think that the same horses Emily had chosen, those that became the foundation of our breeding program, were still thriving in Argentina and connected to the horses I was riding.

The bond between the two places felt stronger than ever. Riding Ceniza in the Argentine countryside, I couldn't help but feel a sense of connection to Emily, as if the land and the horses were bringing us together across time. And now, bringing Ceniza and the others here, back to Australia, feels like closing the loop on a journey that Emily started all those years ago.

I can't help but wonder what Emily would think if she saw how far the Criollo breeding program has come. From those first few horses she brought over, to the thriving program we have today, and now, with these new Criollos joining the herd. It's incredible to think that some of the bloodlines we've nurtured here for generations could be directly linked to the ones in Argentina. Maybe there's a connection deeper than just bloodlines—a shared history, a shared spirit between the horses and the land.

As I sit here, the dogs curled up at my feet, I can't help but think how much this trip has solidified my purpose here at Southern Lights. I'm not just continuing Emily's work—I'm building on it, taking it into the future, just like she would have wanted. The Criollo program will continue to grow and evolve, but its roots will always be in both Argentina and Australia.

And as I prepare for the next few weeks, waiting for Ceniza, Tigre, Esperanza, Lucero, and Solana to finish their quarantine, I know this is just the beginning. Once they're here, I'll have a chance to see how their bloodlines blend with the ones we've been cultivating here for generations.

The future of Southern Lights is brighter than ever, and I know Emily's legacy will continue to thrive in the years to come.

The next chapter is just beginning, and I know it's going to be a good one.

Happy Trails!
#95
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Oct 02, 2024, 10:30 PM
Journal Entry


Part 10: Final Selections and Last Days

Jewel Cartwright

The day had finally come—time to choose the Criollos that would make their way back to Southern Lights Station. After weeks of riding, bonding, and learning, the decision weighed heavily on me. Each horse I'd worked with had left a lasting impression, and I knew that whichever ones I selected would shape the future of our breeding program.

Esteban and I started the day early, with a quiet breakfast on the verandah overlooking the pastures. The air was crisp, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of the horses in the distance. I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension—excited to bring these incredible horses home, but nervous about making the final choices.

We made our way to the stables, where Ceniza, Esperanza, and Tigre were already waiting for me. These three had been at the top of my list since the first week. Ceniza, the Blue Roan gelding, had become my trusted companion during our rides across the pampas. His steady nature and quiet strength made him an ideal fit for our program, especially with the endurance training we planned to start. Esperanza, the dapple gray mare, had a fiery spirit that balanced beautifully with her intelligence. I could see her thriving at Southern Lights, and I was certain she'd add the kind of versatility we needed. Then there was Tigre, the buckskin stallion. His agility, power, and endurance had been proven time and time again—especially during that unexpected endurance ride. He would lead our new endurance program without a doubt.

But there were a few other Criollos I couldn't ignore—horses that had also shown great promise. Esteban led me to the pens where they stood, their ears pricked forward, watching us closely. Lucero, a bay stallion, had an incredible work ethic, and his calm temperament would balance well with the more spirited horses back at Southern Lights. Solana, a petite chestnut mare, was quick on her feet, and I could easily see her thriving in the Western disciplines.

After spending more time with them, running my hands along their sleek coats and imagining them back at the station, I finally made my decisions. Ceniza, Esperanza, Tigre, Lucero, and Solana would all be coming home with me. Esteban smiled as I finalized the paperwork and arranged for their transport. It felt surreal—these horses, born and bred in Argentina, were about to make a new home in Australia.

With the decisions made and the transport arranged, there was nothing left to do but enjoy my final days at the ranch. I spent as much time as I could riding, helping out with the daily chores, and soaking in the vastness of the Argentine landscape. Each ride felt like a farewell, a final journey through a land that had given me so much. I rode Ceniza and Tigre through the rolling hills, watching the sun dip below the horizon as the horses' hooves pounded the earth. It was a reminder of why I love this life—being connected to the land and these magnificent animals in such a profound way.

On one of my last days, Esteban surprised me with an invitation to visit a famous tack shop in the nearby town. The shop had been around for generations and was known for crafting high-quality Argentine saddles and tack. The walls were lined with bridles, stirrups, and hand-tooled leatherwork, and the smell of freshly oiled leather filled the air. The shopkeeper, an older gentleman with a deep love for his craft, took the time to explain the unique aspects of Argentine saddles, especially those used in polo and endurance riding. I couldn't help but pick out a few custom pieces to bring back home, knowing they would be a perfect fit for our Criollos and our Western programs.

It was a quiet but meaningful outing, seeing the craftsmanship behind the gear that had supported generations of riders. We spent a little more time in town, visiting a local café where we shared a final lunch before returning to the ranch. The simplicity of it all, sipping coffee in the middle of town with the bustling life around us, was a moment of peace I needed before the long journey ahead.

On my final evening at the ranch, we gathered for a farewell dinner. The table was filled with Argentine dishes, and the conversation flowed easily as we shared stories from the past few weeks. It was hard to believe I was leaving the next day. Esteban and his team had become like family, and saying goodbye was going to be tougher than I expected.

Before I went to bed that night, I took one last walk through the stables, stopping by to say goodbye to the horses I wouldn't be bringing home. They were all resting quietly, their soft breathing filling the air. When I reached Ceniza, Tigre, and the others, I felt a sense of calm. These horses were going to be part of something special back at Southern Lights. They would carry the spirit of Argentina with them, blending with the traditions we've built over generations.

The next morning came quicker than I'd hoped. Esteban was waiting for me by the car, and the ranch hands were already loading the horses onto the transport trucks. There were a few hugs and handshakes, and then it was time to go. As we drove away from the ranch, I looked back one last time, the horses and hills fading into the distance. My heart was full—full of memories, experiences, and the knowledge that this trip had changed me in more ways than I could have imagined.

I made a quick call back to Southern Lights, checking in with the team and letting them know everything was on track. Old Ted answered, his gruff voice laced with curiosity as I filled him in on the details. I could tell he was trying to play it cool, but I knew he was as excited as I was to see the new horses. "We'll be ready for them," he said before hanging up.

Now, as I sit in the airport, waiting for my flight back to Australia, I can't help but reflect on everything that's happened. Argentina has left a lasting mark on me—the land, the people, the horses. I came here to learn more about the Criollos, to deepen my connection to the breed, and to carry on the work that Emily started all those years ago. But I'm leaving with so much more.

As I board the plane, I know that the future of Southern Lights is brighter than ever. The Criollos, with their strength and spirit, will bring a new chapter to our story. And as much as I'm looking forward to being back home, I'll always carry a piece of Argentina with me.

Happy Trails!
#96
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Oct 02, 2024, 10:26 PM
Journal Entry


Part 9: Visiting Other Ranches

Jewel Cartwright

As the days here in Argentina draw to a close, I've had the incredible fortune of visiting several ranches in the area—each one offering its own unique insight into the world of Argentine horses.

After the thrill of the polo match and riding Solita, Esteban suggested we continue exploring the diversity of horse breeding in this region, and I couldn't have been more eager to learn. One of our first stops was a ranch that specializes in Petiso Argentino Ponies. These ponies, with their sturdy frames and undeniable spirit, reminded me of the Quarter Ponies we have back at Southern Lights, though with a distinctly Argentine twist.

When we arrived at the Petiso ranch, the first thing that struck me was how small they were, yet how full of energy. Their stocky, compact build makes them perfect for young riders and smaller jobs around the ranch, but what I didn't expect was how much heart these ponies have. I watched as a group of local children rode them around the training paddocks, laughing and racing each other. The ponies were agile, quick to respond, and had that spark of intelligence that I've come to love in working horses.

The ranch owner invited me to ride one of their seasoned ponies, Nube, a sweet dappled mare who seemed to enjoy showing off for a new rider. Despite her small size, Nube was a powerhouse—eager to move, responsive to every cue, and fearless when we trotted through the open fields. Riding her reminded me that size doesn't always determine a horse's capability. It's the heart and the bond between horse and rider that make the real difference. I can see why the Petiso Ponies are beloved here—they're perfect for families and young riders, but they also have the stamina and determination of a much larger horse.

Later in the week, Esteban and I visited a ranch specializing in Argentine Sport Horses—a cross between Criollos and Thoroughbreds. These horses are bred for eventing, show jumping, and polo, and they were some of the most striking animals I've seen in a long time. Taller than the Criollos I've been working with, the Argentine Sport Horses have a blend of strength and grace that is simply mesmerizing.

The first horse I rode was a stunning bay mare named Aurora. She had the elegance and height of a Thoroughbred but with the resilience and sure-footedness of a Criollo. It was clear from the moment I mounted her that she was bred for performance. Aurora moved with a kind of fluidity that made every step feel effortless, whether we were cantering across the open field or navigating a series of jumps. She was athletic, but also calm and focused—a perfect combination for a sport horse.

What I found fascinating was the way these horses seem to combine the best of both worlds. The Thoroughbred's speed and agility, mixed with the Criollo's endurance and adaptability, creates a horse that can excel in any discipline. I watched the ranch's riders take Aurora and several others through their paces in show jumping and dressage, and it was clear that these horses were built for competition. They had the precision needed for the jumping ring, but also the strength and stamina for endurance riding, much like the Criollos.

The ranch owner explained that the Argentine Sport Horse is becoming increasingly popular not just in Argentina but worldwide, and I can see why. They're versatile, talented, and carry a quiet confidence that makes them stand out in any arena. If I wasn't already so focused on the Criollos, I might have been tempted to add one of these incredible horses to our breeding program at Southern Lights.

One thing that struck me during these visits was how much the Argentine horse world has to offer in terms of variety. From the small but mighty Petiso Ponies to the athletic Argentine Sport Horses, the diversity here is incredible. Each breed serves its purpose, and each has its own place in Argentine culture. It's clear that horses are more than just animals here—they are partners, companions, and a way of life.

As I reflect on these visits, I can't help but think about how these experiences will shape the future of our program back home. The Petiso Ponies reminded me of the importance of versatility and heart, while the Argentine Sport Horses showed me how much potential lies in blending breeds for specific goals. While I'm still deeply committed to the Criollo line, these visits have given me new perspectives on how we can continue to grow and adapt at Southern Lights Station.

Happy Trails!
#97
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Oct 02, 2024, 10:23 PM
Journal Entry


Part 8: Polo Experience

Jewel Cartwright

I'm exhausted today. I've experienced so much during my stay, and now that it's almost up, I'm feeling both happy and sad at the same time. Each moment has been exceptional, but today—well, today was something else entirely. Polo. I went to a polo match, can you believe it?

Polo matches aren't exactly part of life at Southern Lights, and to be honest, I hadn't packed anything remotely fancy. So, Esteban, being the gentleman that he is, took me into town, and we found a lovely boutique hidden away on a quiet street. After a bit of convincing (and some teasing on his part), I ended up in a light, elegant dress with a wide-brimmed hat to match. I hardly recognized myself in the mirror, but I must admit, it was fun to dress up for the occasion.

The match itself was nothing short of spectacular. The field was enormous—a pristine expanse of green, surrounded by cheering spectators. The air buzzed with excitement. The Argentine Polo Ponies were warming up when we arrived, their sleek, muscular bodies gleaming in the sunlight. Even from a distance, you could sense their power and elegance.

Once the game began, I was hooked. The ponies raced across the field with such speed and precision, weaving through their opponents with what seemed like effortless grace. I'd never seen anything like it—the way the riders moved in sync with their ponies, guiding them with the subtlest of cues, was mesmerizing. Every thud of hooves against the turf made my heart race.

The agility of the ponies was incredible. They could turn on a dime, accelerate in a heartbeat, and stop just as fast—all while the riders balanced themselves with the skill of seasoned athletes. I couldn't take my eyes off the match. The intensity, the coordination between horse and rider—it was like watching a finely tuned machine in motion, except with far more soul. The crowd gasped and cheered as the teams charged up and down the field, battling for control of the ball.

When it was over, I felt like I had just witnessed something truly special. Esteban must have seen the look on my face because he turned to me and asked, "Well, what do you think? Ready to give it a try?"

---

After the match, Esteban had arranged a visit to a nearby ranch that breeds and trains Argentine Polo Ponies. I was a little hesitant at first—these ponies were clearly on another level compared to what I'm used to—but curiosity got the better of me. The ranch owner introduced me to Solita, a nimble chestnut mare with eyes full of fire and spirit.

Riding Solita was unlike anything I've ever experienced. She was so light on her feet, so quick to respond to the slightest shift in my weight or touch of the reins. We spent time on the practice field, working on sprints, tight turns, and positioning for strikes. It was exhilarating—there was a grace in every movement she made, and for a moment, I felt like I was part of that same dance I had watched on the field earlier.

Of course, I wasn't nearly ready for an actual match, but it gave me a whole new level of appreciation for the sport. The connection between rider and horse in polo is something special—so subtle, yet so precise. Solita moved with such fluidity, it felt like I was riding the wind itself.

After the ride, the ranch owner shared some stories about the history of Argentine Polo Ponies—how they're bred specifically for their agility, endurance, and intelligence. Listening to him talk, I realized how much effort goes into shaping these remarkable animals for such a demanding sport.

By the end of the day, I was both exhausted and exhilarated. I hadn't expected to fall in love with polo, but there's something about it that has left a lasting impression. I'm not sure when—or if—I'll get the chance to ride a polo pony again, but I know it's an experience I'll never forget.

As I sit here now, reflecting on the day, I can't help but smile. From the fancy dress and the excitement of the match to riding Solita on the field, today was another unexpected gift in this adventure. Argentina has a way of surprising me at every turn, and I'm so grateful to be here, soaking in every moment.

Happy Trails!
#98
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Sep 29, 2024, 01:02 PM
Journal Entry


Part 7: Reflections

Date posted: September 30
Jewel Cartwright

Sitting here tonight, I can hardly believe how quickly the last few weeks have flown by. It feels like just yesterday that I stepped off the plane, jet-lagged and anxious, but now Argentina feels like a second home. The rhythm of the days here on Esteban's ranch has woven itself into me, and I can't help but reflect on everything I've experienced so far—more rides, more sights, and countless moments that have left an imprint on my heart.

The days have been filled with rides through the pampas. Each ride brings something new—a different trail, a fresh landscape to take in, and always a different Criollo to ride. Esteban made sure I tried as many horses as possible, pushing me to really understand the depth of this breed. I've ridden through fields of wildflowers, across shallow streams, and up rolling hills that seem to go on forever. Every ride felt like a journey back in time, a glimpse into the heart of this land and its connection to these horses.

I've spent countless hours on horseback, getting to know the Criollos on an almost spiritual level. They're unlike any horses I've ever ridden—resilient and sure-footed, but with a sensitivity that makes riding them feel effortless. Ceniza, my Blue Roan gelding from the first day, has become a favorite. There's something about him that just clicks with me, and I've requested to bring him back to Southern Lights. He's exactly what our program needs—strong, steady, and with the kind of heart that wins over anyone who rides him. He may not be a stallion to pass on the genes but he has certainly won my heart.

But there have been other standouts too—Esperanza, a dappled gray mare with a feisty spirit, and Tigre, a powerful buckskin stallion who seems to float over the ground with ease. Each of them carries the history of the Criollo breed in their blood, and it's clear that they've been bred for generations to thrive in this environment. It's hard to describe the feeling of riding a horse that feels so in tune with the land, so capable of handling anything thrown its way.

In between the rides, Esteban has taken me to see more of the Argentine countryside. We've visited nearby ranches and even stopped by a few local gaucho festivals, where the traditions of the land are alive and well. I've learned so much about the gauchos, the legendary horsemen of Argentina, and how their culture is interwoven with the history of the Criollo breed. Watching them ride, with such skill and precision, reminded me of the cowboys back home—but there's a certain grace and fluidity to the way they move with their horses that feels uniquely Argentine.

One of the highlights of the trip was partaking in an endurance ride—something I hadn't expected to do but was thrilled to try. Esteban mentioned it casually one morning over breakfast, asking if I'd like to join in. He didn't have to ask twice. It was a grueling test of stamina and endurance for both horse and rider, but the Criollos were built for this. We rode for miles across the pampas, through open plains and dense forests, stopping only briefly to let the horses rest and drink. It pushed me beyond what I thought I could handle, but riding a Criollo made all the difference. Their endurance is unmatched. They barely seemed to break a sweat, even when I was sure I'd drop from exhaustion.

Tigre carried me through that ride, and by the end of it, I felt a bond with him that can only come from enduring something challenging together. His strength and determination were incredible, and I knew by the time we crossed the finish line that he, too, would be coming back to Southern Lights with me. I can already see him leading our new endurance program, inspiring riders back home with his power and grace.

In the quieter moments, I've helped out at the ranch—grooming the horses, cleaning stalls, and even assisting in training sessions with the younger Criollos. It reminded me so much of home, yet there's a different energy here. The way Esteban and his team care for the horses is rooted in centuries of tradition, and I've learned so much from watching them. There's a patience and respect in every interaction, a deep understanding that the horses aren't just animals—they're partners.

And then, of course, there's Emily. The more time I spend here, the more I feel connected to her and her journey. Esteban has shared stories about her time in Argentina, how she, too, rode through these same fields, searching for the best Criollos to bring back to Southern Lights. Knowing that I'm following in her footsteps, adding to the legacy she started, fills me with a sense of purpose. It's almost as if she's here with me, guiding me as I make my decisions about which horses to bring home.

I've been thinking a lot about what Southern Lights Station will look like when I return. These Criollos, with their strength and resilience, will bring so much to our breeding program. I can already picture them grazing in the fields back home, their spirits blending with the land in the same way they do here. It's exciting to think about the future, about how the horses I choose will shape the next chapter for Southern Lights.

Happy Trails!
#99
Jewel / Re: Heritage in Hooves
Last post by Jewel - Sep 29, 2024, 12:54 PM
Journal Entry


Part 6: Meeting the Criollos and First Ride Through the Countryside

Date posted: September 30
Jewel Cartwright

This morning, after a night of restless excitement, I finally got to meet the Criollos up close. The day began early, the way it always does on a ranch, but there was something different in the air—a sense of anticipation I couldn't shake. I'm used to early mornings and ranch work, but today felt special.

I made my way to the stables just as the sun was rising, casting a soft golden light over the pastures. Esteban was already there, waiting with a small group of ranch hands, each of them tending to a horse. As I approached, Esteban greeted me with his usual warm smile and motioned for me to follow him to the paddocks.

"There they are," he said, his voice full of pride as we reached the enclosure. And there they were—the Criollos. Up close, they were even more stunning than I had imagined. Muscular but compact, with coats ranging from deep, gleaming blacks to dappled grays and striking Grullas and Duns. Their eyes were sharp and intelligent, their ears flicking forward in curiosity as they watched me approach. These were horses bred for toughness, resilience, and loyalty—everything I'd always admired about the breed.

Esteban introduced me to a few of his prized horses, naming each one as if they were family. Fuego, a sleek black stallion with a fiery spirit, stood out immediately, his muscles rippling beneath his glossy coat. Then there was Cielo Azul, a gentle Grulla mare whose calm demeanor instantly drew me in. I could already see her leading the charge in our endurance program back home.

But the one who stole my heart the moment I laid eyes on him was Ceniza—a striking Blue Roan gelding with soft eyes and a quiet confidence. Esteban must have noticed my gaze linger on him because he smiled and said, "Ceniza would be perfect for your first ride."

I was a little taken aback, not expecting to ride so soon, but I couldn't resist the offer. After all, this is what I came for—to experience these horses in their element, the way Emily once did. The ranch hands saddled Ceniza, and before I knew it, I was swinging up into the saddle, feeling the strength of him beneath me. He shifted slightly but settled quickly, like he knew we were about to embark on something special.

Esteban mounted his own horse, a powerful Dun stallion named Sol, and motioned for me to follow him. "We'll ride out to the river," he said, setting off at a steady pace.

The moment Ceniza and I started moving, I could feel the connection between us—he was responsive, smooth, and surefooted, completely at ease in his surroundings. As we rode out into the open countryside, the vastness of the pampas hit me again. The land seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, with the occasional cluster of trees breaking up the horizon. There's a sense of freedom here, a wide-open space that feels like it belongs to both the land and the horses.

We rode in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the rhythmic beat of hooves on the earth and the soft whistle of the wind through the grass. Every so often, Esteban would glance over, giving me a knowing nod, as if to say, "This is what it's all about."

At one point, we came across a small herd of cattle grazing near the riverbank, and Esteban suggested we round them up and move them to another pasture. I was more than eager to help, slipping into familiar ranch mode. Ceniza proved his worth immediately—he had that natural cow sense that the Criollos are known for, easily anticipating the cattle's movements and keeping them in line with minimal effort on my part. It felt like second nature, riding him through the herd, working together as a team.

There's something about the way these horses move on the land—it's as if they're part of it, fully connected to every inch of the ground beneath their hooves. Ceniza was steady, focused, and seemed to read my thoughts before I could even give him a cue. It was pure harmony, something I've only felt with a handful of horses in my life.

After the cattle were safely moved, Esteban and I took a break by the river, letting the horses rest. We sat on the grassy bank, watching as Ceniza and Sol drank from the cool water. Esteban started to tell me more about the Criollo breed and how they'd evolved to survive in the harshest conditions. He spoke of the Spanish settlers who first brought horses to South America, and how the Criollos became tough, enduring everything from long journeys across unforgiving landscapes to intense work with cattle. Their history is woven into the very fabric of Argentina, and hearing Esteban talk about them with such reverence made me appreciate them even more.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, we rode back to the ranch. Ceniza seemed to carry me effortlessly, and I felt a deep connection with him—like I'd known him for years instead of just a few hours. It's amazing how quickly a bond can form when you're riding through open country together.

When we arrived back at the stables, I helped the ranch hands unsaddle the horses and give them a good rub down. Esteban chuckled when he saw me pitching in. "You're not just a visitor, are you? You're one of us," he said with a wink. And honestly, that's exactly how I felt. Helping out with the horses, working alongside the ranch hands—it felt like home, just a different version of it.

We spent the rest of the day working on the ranch—feeding, grooming, and getting the horses ready for the next day's ride. I could tell that the work here wasn't much different from Southern Lights, yet there was something uniquely Argentine about the way things were done. It was as if every task, no matter how small, was imbued with a sense of tradition, a respect for the land and the animals that was palpable in everything they did.

By the time the sun began to set, I was exhausted but content. As I sit here now, writing this, I can still feel the connection to the land and the horses. Today was the first of many rides, but already I feel like I've learned so much—not just about the Criollos, but about the bond between horse and rider, the land and its people.

Tomorrow, Esteban is taking me out again, and I can't wait to see what the day will bring. But for now, I'm going to rest, knowing that I'm one step closer to understanding the heart of the Criollo breed, and one step closer to bringing that spirit back to Southern Lights Station.

Happy Trails!
#100
Jewel / Re: Journal Entries
Last post by Jewel - Sep 27, 2024, 06:21 PM
Journal Entry


Training Ride Reflections

Date posted: September 28
Jewel Cartwright

A long, tiring, but good day today. Ranch life is always about hard work and dedication, but there's something refreshing about a day spent riding, focusing on fine-tuning things. With our first Versatility Ranch Horse competition just days away, I wanted to make sure everyone was progressing well. So, I gathered the team for a ride out in the open—no arenas, just pure outback training.

We set off early, with the horses eager to get moving as usual. I decided to ride Cielo Estrellado, my trusted 10-year-old Criollo gelding, who always seems ready for anything. I'd offered Alex the chance to ride Cielo, but he preferred Esperanza, the 5-year-old grey mare he's been bonding with. Even though Alex hasn't been with us long, he's doing impressive work with the horses and is slowly starting to open up more with the team. I can already see him growing into his role here.

Our first task was simple—opening and closing the station gates as we headed into the outback. It's a basic skill, but an important one, especially for a competition like this. Each of us took turns, and it was good practice for the horses. Not all horses take easily to gate work, but everyone handled it smoothly. It was a good start to the day.

Once we were out on the trails, the landscape opened up. With wide stretches of land ahead of us, the horses settled into a comfortable pace, and we took the opportunity to work on some transitions between walk, trot, and lope. Tom and Alice were riding side by side, as they often do, guiding Erique and Serena—our young but sharp 4-year-olds. Despite their age, these two Criollos work like old pros, moving in sync with their riders. It's always a pleasure to watch the partnership between Tom and Alice, and their horses seem to reflect their calm and confident energy.

Along the way, we incorporated various obstacles into the ride—logs and branches scattered on the ground, small creeks to cross, and narrow bridges. It's important that these horses are ready for anything, and today was about making sure they were comfortable with any challenge. Every time we faced an obstacle, the horses moved through it with ease. It's amazing to see how adaptable and sure-footed they are, especially out here in their element.

At one point, we stopped to give the horses (and ourselves) a short rest. The sound of the wind through the trees and the distant call of birds provided a calming backdrop, making the break feel like a peaceful pause in an otherwise busy day.

Further along, Rex and Dan spotted some cattle grazing nearby, so naturally, we took the opportunity for some light cattle work. It wasn't planned, but the horses didn't miss a beat. It's in their nature to take on tasks like this, and they moved instinctively with the cattle. We didn't push them too hard—there would be plenty of time for serious cattle work tomorrow—but it was a good warm-up.

When the trail narrowed, the horses handled it effortlessly. Whether it was rocky terrain or soft ground, they navigated with confidence, never once losing their footing. I always marvel at the Criollos' endurance and versatility—they could go all day if we let them.

By the time we circled back toward the station, the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. The horses had worked hard, but there were no signs of fatigue—they seemed as sharp and responsive as when we first started. All the riders agreed that the day had been a success, and it was clear that the horses were progressing beautifully. Cielo, Esperanza, Erique, Serena, Solana, and Pablo all performed incredibly well. No one had any problems, and it looks like we're in good shape for the show.

As we made our way back home, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for the horses and riders. There's nothing quite like a day spent out in the open, working together as a team and knowing you're preparing for something great. The competition's just around the corner, and I can't wait to see how we'll perform.

Happy Trails!