Nicolize Stigaard

Oktober 2023

The run up to this ride was tumultuous. Christiaan had already planned two routes, one in De Doorns, and the second up the Nuy Kloof. Due to inclement weather and severe flooding and water damage in the area, a third route was decided on. Fortunately, Christiaan can make a plan or three. He had a route in mind that should be passable despite the forecasted rain for the weekend. We had been on the phone back and forth in the week before if the ride should go on or not. My call on it was that he had organised three rides already and we hadn’t ridden any of them – no bad weather just bad gear, let’s ride! The weather forecast for Porterville showed no rain, of course it wouldn’t rain that much in Worcester…

Friday evening the riders started arriving. Among them Antonie and his nephew Akker from down the road, also Marthie le Roux from the area. The fire was going and we all settled in for the next day’s riding.

Saturday morning it was overcast and drizzling. The riders tacked up and fitted gear. With packhorses, it usually takes a while to get everyone setup. Hannarie, riding Akiri (named after one of Oom Fritz’ mares, her grandmother), was sharing Gotcha as packhorse with Sonja riding Damar. JD and Johan Bester shared a packhorse. Sune, Zanelle and Christiaan had two packhorses between the three of them. I had my two solid trail horses with me, Dinky (27) and Elite standing in as pack horse for the weekend. Having packhorses along slows the pace down a lot, setting us up for 6 hours of riding in the rain throughout the Saturday. Not hectic rain, just consistently persistent rain that fell insistently. It sifted down on us from all directions, soaking us through, regardless of the quality gear you had. We rode through the veld and vineyards to Leipzig Wine Estate and had much appreciated lunch of Flammkuchen and wine (more than was good for us!).

The afternoon we proceeded to Saggy Stone where we set up camp for the evening. The last couple of kilometers along the dirt road were the worst. Due to the heavily loaded packs, we kept the pace to a walk. With rain hitting us straight from the front. The horses fidgety and twisting their faces out of the wind. Rooi Flip, driving a bakkie and trailer with the horses’ food for the night, made a detour via Nuy on the Hill to get a bottle of sweet wine. This is what pulled most of us through on the last stretch – soggy riders on horses that were ready to finish up for the day.

On a personal note. I have been riding with the Ruiterpad since the early 2000’s and have been on a fair few hairy routes with various horses since. I had just the month previously completed a 5 day ride in the Eastern Cape with Hercle (my first big ride after having a baby). I have a fair bit of exposure to these types of trips. The Nuy ride still turned out to be one of my toughest rides mentally to date.

Arriving at camp at Saggy Stone I came to realize that we didn’t have our tent along. Now depending on who you ask (Daniel or myself), the tent shortage may or may not have been my doing, as I had insisted on taking the sponge mattresses. These mattresses take up most of the space in the panniers, neatly leaving space for the bivouac, but not the tent. Here came my “gemoedsbekakking”. My husband Daniel had bought Christian, our 8mo son, over in the bakkie, so the tent could have been there in theory. But we were on a pack trip and the Stigaard’s are purists, so if it didn’t fit on the horse, it wasn’t there. We were sleeping outside, in the rain, under what is essentially a waterproof sheet.

As it turned out – we had everything we needed to sleep warm and dry, and fortunately it stopped raining shortly after we finished up for the day. Sometimes it’s good to do tough things “safely”. Now I know what it takes to wear the wet jods to dry them out, so that they will be damp and not soaking for the following day’s ride home. Little Christian loved sleeping out and being able to see the horses from bed. Regardless of the wet and cold, everything was just fine.

The story does not end there!

It will be hard to believe, that Brakpan is riding distance from Nuy. Until you find yourself watching the rugby semi-finals between England and South Africa with a 60^th birthday bash group from Brackenfell. When the horse people say the “other people” were rowdy… Then you must know. To set the scene: there were crotched pants in the colours of the South African flag, ladies done up as though they were attending an 80’s do, Talcum powder and all. Antonie, as always, the life of the party, invented a game correlating with the ebb and flow of the lights caused by a faulty generator. Causing the “horse people” to cheer at the most inappropriate times in relation to the rugby game playing on the big screen, leading some looks and murmuring from the “other people”, obviously of the opinion that horse people don’t know how rugby works. A nail-biting rugby game, closing in a last-minute win for South Africa, put everyone in good spirits.

Sunday the weather had cleared up and most of us had given up on the idea of putting our soggy gear back on the pack horses and sent it home with the vehicles. In complete contrast to Saturday, we ended up cooking due to the heat and humidity on the Sundays ride back to Nonna through the veld. The consensus was that riding in the rain wasn’t all that bad in the end.

Thank you to Christiaan and Zanelle for being impeccable hosts, always taking everything in their stride and not giving up when the first plan doesn’t come together. Looking forward to the next one!

Malgasrit

Maart 29, 2024 / Ruiterpadnuus / Lewer kommentaar

22-24 Maart 2024

Deur Anelia Marais

Ek maak langnaweek en ry kuier-kuier Malgas toe. Ek is die enigste persoon wat gaan ry, maar na twee ritte afgestel is vanweë gebrek aan belangstelling (terwyl ek albei kere ‘n perd gehad het!) weier ek om ‘n rit af te stel. Wat het ek nodig om te ry? Mos net ‘n perd – wat ek teen ‘n baie bekostigbare prys by Sandra huur. En ‘n gids wat die pragtige Malgas soos die palm van haar hand ken – sy het immers daar grootgeword.

Laatmiddag stop ek by Sandra se Milkwood Horse Trails en ons gesels vinnig oor die hoe en waar van Saterdag se rit. Dis net ek, Sandra en Naomie wat Saterdag gaan ry, maar daar is nog ‘n paar mense wat Sondag by ons wil aansluit. Ek glip oor die pad na Milkwood Bush Camp toe en slaan vinnig my tentjie op. Die wind pla en ek kap vas en bind vas so goed ek kan. Kort daarna kom kuier een van die veldperde by my en ek maak die fout om hom ‘n paar druiwekorrels te gee. Ek het ‘n vriend vir die res van die naweek, lyk dit my!

Noleen, van die kampplek, kom maak ‘n draai en sê die wind gaan lê gewoonlik rondom 6 uur – tensy dit reën. Ek lyk seker verbaas, want sy sê daar is reën voorspel vir die aand, alhoewel daar net ‘n paar wolke op die bergtop lê. My tentjie is nog nuut, maar die materiaal lyk vir my maar baie dun. Ek weet valskermspringers waag hulle lewens met die tipe materiaal, maar ek maak ‘n plan. My ma het met ‘n rit wat ek en my pa jare gelede in Aurora bygewoon het, geweier om op die grond te slaap. Sy het bloot hulle sponsmatras op die motor se platgeslaande agtersitplekke ingeskuif en heerlik geslaap terwyl ek myself jammer gekry het op die vloer van die skousaal in Aurora. Net daar slaan ek die motor se sitplekke plat en stoot die matras in. Na ‘n vinnige draai in die ablusieblok – ek wou nog ‘n foto neem van daardie baie interessante stortkop wat bloot ‘n onderstebo 5-liter waterbottel met gate in is, maar het skoon vergeet – begin dit sowaar blits en donder. Ek kruip net na 7 in my motor en lê en verkyk my aan die blitse. Ek probeer dit selfs afneem – makliker gesê as gedoen, maar kry toe darem ‘n paar foto’s met my selfoon geneem. Geen idee waar die groen en pers vandaan kom nie! Daardie nag sukkel ek maar om te slaap – ek is warm en droog en redelik gemaklik, maar die helder lig van die blitse en die bedompigheid in die toe motor hou my baie wakker.

Blitse met my selfoon afgeneem vanuit my bed in my motor

Saterdagoggend is dit net bewolk en ek sien uit na ‘n lekker rit. Ek ontdek ek het my tentjie se ‘fly sheet’, daai stukkie lap wat bo-oor die gaas pas, verkeerdom opgesit. Met die geflapper in die wind het ek nie besef die ding is nie vierkantig nie en in my haas, die oop gaas misgekyk. Natuurlik is my tent lekker nat en ek bedank my oorlede ma in my gedagtes. Ek draai die ‘fly sheet’ om, verseker dat my tent nou waterdig is. Toe ek by Sandra opdaag 9.30, lig sy my in dat Witsand ‘n waarskuwing van die weerburo gekry het vir swaar donderweer. Ons besluit om die beplande 4-ure rit in ‘n paar korter sirkelroetes te vervang sodat ons kan omdraai as die weer dreigend raak. Sandra op Inke, haar “groen” Friesmerrie, Naomi op Faffa en ek op Tertius, Boerperd van oor die 20 (maar hy weet dit duidelik nie).

Faffa, Boerperd x Percheron of liewer, Boerperdlyf met ore van ‘n Percheron. Op die foto’s wys gewoonlik net sy twee lang ore! Ons ry al langs die rivier op (nog) een van Sandra se familielede se plase.

Die reën wil-wil uitsak

Elfuur kom en gaan, maar ons sien niks van die voorspelde storm nie. Dit begin so effens drup en ons draai huis toe. Ons sal die weer dophou en drieuur weer ‘n ent gaan ry. Ek spandeer die tyd met ‘n boek in my motor. Dit reën steeds nie juis nie, net hier en daar ‘n paar druppels. Teen drieuur het die voorspelde storm steeds nie gearriveer nie, en ons vertrek vir nog ‘n rit. Sandra is die slag op Zeus, ‘n 16.2 h resiesperd wat gelukkig nie in sy 5 lewensjare jare ooit die renbaan gesien het nie. Hy is die rustigheid vanself en moet mooi gevra word om te galop. Eintlik strek hy sy lang bene net meer in ‘n ongelooflike draf as sy hom aanspoor. Ons ry die ”agterste” stuk van die 4-uurlange bergrit wat ons mos nie die oggend gery het nie. Alhoewel die wêreld vol uitheemse plante is, maak dit steeds ‘n mooi prentjie en ons ry lekker.

Skielik hoor ons die donderslag en die eerste druppels val. Ons draai summier om en vat kortpad deur die veld. Sandra weet daar is ‘n hek, maar die hek is ietwat oorgroei. Sy sukkel om die paal uit die onderste draad te lig toe Zeus besluit hy stap oor – ja, met sulke lang bene sou ek dit ook gedoen het! Ongelukkig beland sy poot in die hakkiesdraad en Sandra vra hulp. Zeus is redelik rustig, maar mens bly mos maar bekommerd en die donderweer slaan ook met blitse tussenin. Net toe ek en Naomie afklim om hand by te sit, lig Zeus hom bloot op sy agterpote en sy poot gly maklik uit. Slim perd! Die laaste entjie is nat en die blitse slaan om ons. Ek bly tel in my kop – 1, 2, 3 – om te sien of dit darem 1km van ons af is, maar die blitse en donder is deurmekaar en ons laat waai terug stalle toe, al klaar goed nat. Ons saal vinnig af en besluit om maar te sien wat die weer deur die nag en Sondagoggend doen.

Terug by my tent sien ek nie kans om die matras uit die motor tot in die tent te sleep nie. Kans vir braai is daar ook nie, maar ek het gelukkig nog oorskiet van die vorige dag se kos. Koffie maak ek op my kampstofie by die opwasplek uit die reën. Ek gaan stort vinnig en klim onder die reën weer in my motor – darem droog. Die hemel maak oop en dit reën. En reën. En reën! Die oggend se 11-uur storm, uiteraard. Die volgende oggend klaar dit rondom 7.30 op. Ek wik en weeg – ek hou nie daarvan om in die reën te ry nie. Maar ek dog ek sal maar my ryklere aan trek, maar ook oppak voor ek oor die pad ry. My ryklere het ek in die tent oopgegooi om droog te raak deur die nag… of so het ek gedink. My tent is sopnat en my klere kan ek uitdroog. My tentjie is toe NIE waterdig nie… Summier besluit ek om op te pak – ek vat die pad huis toe. Ek bondel nat klere en nat tent alles in my arme geduldige motortjie. Stop vinnig by Sandra om verskoning te maak, maar sy sê daar is nog reën voorspel en sy het maar die ander mense laat weet ons gaan nie ry nie. Ek kyk gou in die reënmeter wat onder ‘n boom hang – 25 mm vir die nag!

Ek vat die pad – was bietjie bekommerd oor die nat grondpad, maar behalwe vir ‘n paar nuwe poele water en slootjies en stroompies, word die pad goed onderhou en ek ry sonder probleme. Hierdie grondpad lyk na die reën beter as party dorpe se hoofstrate sonder reën!

Volgende jaar maak ons weer so as ons gespaar bly. Die 21^e Maart val op ‘n Vrydag en dis lekker langnaweek. Sandra is aan die onderhandel om op Potberg te gaan ry. Witsand is ook ‘n opsie.

Dankie aan Sandra en Naomie – ek het heerlik gery.

Sandra weet hoe om haar ruiters en perde bymekaar te laat pas. Kyk dan hier, ek en Tertius is ewe grys!

Appelsdrift Robertson

Maart 21, 2024 / Ruiterpadnuus / Lewer kommentaar

16 – 17 Maart 2024

Die Vrydagmiddag kom ons almal bymekaar op die plaas Appelsdrift se kampterein teen die Breërivier. Eerste om te arriveer is Tinka en daarna Sonja Claasen en n vriendin Haylee. Joni-Leigh en Adam en Michelle George ( n gas wat ek genooi het ) Nicolize en Daniel en Zanelle en Berto en sy familie Etienne en Yolanda.

Almal kry vir hulle ‘n lekker staan plek vir die naweek en die aand braai ons lekker om ‘n groot vuur.

Die Saterdag oggend is ons agtuur in die saal. Ek ry ‘n nuwe perd wat nog nooit tussen ander perde gery het het nie, so ek het nie geweet wat om te verwag nie. Ek lei hom aan die hand tot waar ons oor die teerpad moet gaan, maar ek sien sommer dadelik hy is nie veel gepla met die klomp vreemde perde nie. Ek sien gou hy is maar so bietjie onseker om voor te ry maar gelukkig is Zanelle se perd weer lus om voor te ry so sy vat voor en en gou ’settle’ hy in. Ons ry n stukkie deur die wingerde en sitrusboorde en vat toe ‘n lekker veldpaadjie wat ons in ‘n kloof in vat. Die paadjie is maar sleg verspoel met onlangse sterk reën en ons moet maar so zig zag oor die slote.

Omtrent so 3 km voor die einde is ek en Yolanda aan die gesels en skielik skrik my perd en verlê na links maar daar is perde aan die linker kant van hom en hy swaai om na regs en gooi sy kop in die lug en tref my met sy kop op my neus. Dit voel of Drikus Du Plessis my met een van sy regters getref het. Hy slaan my skoon uit die saal uit, gelukkig gryp ek sy nek vas ek kom op voete te lande. Iemand vat my perd by my, ek sien later dit was Etienne (Dankie ), want toe is dit net bloed. Haylee gee vir my ‘n paar tissues wat ek in my neus kan sit om die bloeding te probeer stop en na die sterretjies verdwyn het klim ek weer op en kan ons die laaste paar kilometers terug ry huis toe. Waarvoor hy geskrik het sal net hy weet want hy was dadelik weer rustig en stap asof niks gebeur het nie.

Ons is net na 12 weer by die kampterrien en almal versorg hulle perde en geniet iets te ete. Helen Tiffen, een van ons plaaslike veeartse, sluit die Saterdagmiddag by ons aan met haar perd. Ons verkeer lekker rustig die namiddag met n paar mense wat die rivier aandurf, hy was bietjie vuil en vol weens donderweer wat ons ‘n week van tevore gehad het.

Die Sondag is ons weer agtuur in die saal, ons ry vandag ‘n korter draai deur die plaas en so stukkie deur die veld tot by ‘n dam waar ons die perde water gee en dan weer n sirkel roete terug kampplek toe. Die rit verloop sonder enige voorvalle en my perd gedra hom uitstekend en ek besluit ek sal hom vergewe vir die Saterdag se voorval.

Baie dankie aan almal wat die rit bygewoon het. Dit is altyd n voorreg om saam met julle te kan perdry.

Pippa’s Caledon Ride – at Stanford

Januarie 30, 2024Januarie 30, 2024 / Ruiterpadnuus / Lewer kommentaar

2 & 3 December 2023

Unusually, a number of people showed interest in my ride this year.

The big rains in September had washed all our mountain roads away and with the harvesting in still in full swing, the farm roads would not be pleasant.

So, I asked my friend, Chris Martens, if we could ride in his area – Stanford. We were going to be 9. Then Eitenne & Yolanda’s 2 guests couldn’t make it, Eitenne’s horse got badly kicked so they cancelled, leaving us with 6 riders. Jurgen with his new young horse, his guests, Marna & Peter Stofberg from Bot River, Sonja Claassen, myself & Chris.

We set up camp on Chris’s neighbours farm, under big Poplar trees. Only 3 of us were camping. Jurgen and friends were trucking in from Bot River. Chris rode over from his place. The horses were picketed and we had a lovely braai, with lots to talk about. At about midnight Sonja heard a big commotion and got up just in time to see Chris’s horse disappear. Since she’s a black horse it was difficult to see which direction she went. Chris got in his bakkie and set off after her. I got a message an hour later to say the black b!@#*h was back home (8km)! Next morning Chris rode her back. Jurgen, Marna & Pieter arrived, saddled up and off we went: Jurgen’s new young horse, a big Dun; Marna’s young Bay Knappstrupper, Peter’s Gymkhana horse, Sonja on her Arab, Chris on his big Anglo/Friesian X, and myself on my other horse, a son of Sonja’s Danrek out of a Saddler X mare. Ben is no longer up to long rides.

The weather was perfect for riding, slightly drizzly, although it meant we couldn’t see the views. Firebreaks and farm tracks through pristine fynbos, no gates…Chris’s horse, knowing the area well, threw a hissy fit at most of the T-junctions, trying to go home. Jurgen’s Moritz behaved beautifully. Lots of talking and the pace was a good walk, except for one stretch of canter, which my horse stuffed up, by not wanting to canter, so everyone pulled up after a bit to wait for me. The weather cleared and we could enjoy the views.

Another near neighbour, Lochner, met us on his horse to guide us to our lunch spot on the farm he manages. The sun came out and Andy, my husband, met us with our lunch stuff. After lunch we did a shorter route back through farmland with a few gates – Peter (& Sonja) gallantly opened for us, what a wonderful horse Peter has – front or back he didn’t mind where he rode.

After coffee, Jurgen, Marna & Peter left for home. Sonja was also on her way. A friend of Chris’s came for a braai and we had a great evening – bachelor braai, eaten off the coals and a big bonfire afterwards. Although in in charge of controlled burns in fynbos reserves and mountains, I didn’t know that Chris was a bit of a pyromaniac….