by Kelly Wilson
With our flights to Australia now only two weeks away, we realised that we had no plans for the four days leading up to the competition. We originally thought we’d be based at Colleen’s, which was three hours away, but this seemed like unnecessary extra travelling time for our ponies. I contacted our new friend, Dan, to see whether he knew anyone we could stay with. He quickly organised for a family to collect the Brumbies from the airport and for us to stay at their equestrian property 40 minutes from the showgrounds. Moza, their young daughter, was an aspiring showjumper and a huge fan of our TV show Keeping Up With The Kaimanawas. When she heard that we were coming to visit she started looking through all our Brumby photos on Facebook and immediately fell in love with Ballarat. When we got an e-mail from Moza’s mum asking about buying Ballarat, we crossed our fingers that she would suit their family. We’d been praying that she would be auctioned off to a perfect home, and now it looked as if we might have found one. Moza had been riding her entire life; she was gutsy, used to working with young and difficult ponies and, more importantly, loved Brumbies. Although she’d recently moved on to a 14-hand pony and had dreams of competing at Grand Prix level, she was searching for a fun pony to trail-ride on — every year, the family camped for a week in Barmah National Park to visit the Brumbies.
Shanti and Ballarat jumping, 10 days before we left for Australia.
Shanti on Ballarat, and Nina on Shyla, enjoying a swim in the river.
After talking at great length, and seeing videos and photos, Amanda was confident that Moza would provide the right home for Ballarat; now she just needed to ensure that Ballarat was the right pony for Moza. Shanti, who hadn’t ridden Ballarat for a couple of months, jumped at the chance to come out and ride her again. She, Gaia, Nina and Lily all came to stay for a week. Nina rode Shyla and Shanti rode Ballarat; first doing lessons, then riding out on the farm and swimming in the river. In between rides, the kids helped me work on Shyla’s costume, which had a snow theme to honour her Snowy Mountain heritage.
In the last week leading up to the challenge, Amanda hopped on Ballarat bareback, with just a rope around her neck. The little mare soon understood the neck cues, walking and trotting around the arena like a schoolmistress horse. While Amanda had no intention of including this skill — something she’d only tried at the last minute — in her freestyle component for the competition, it was incredibly rewarding for her to see Ballarat’s potential for working bridleless. It was a true reflection of the trust Amanda had developed with her. The little bay Brumby had only had about 30 rides, as opposed to Shyla who’d had about 100, but Amanda was confident that with a little more time she’d be a very fun and competitive pony.
CHAPTER 23
The Passing of a Legend
Vicki and Argo at Equidays 2016, his last public performance in front of his adoring fans.
The kids playing with Argo, a horse that thrived on human attention.
Argo surrounded by his South Island fans during our nationwide tour in 2016.
In that last week before we were due to fly to Australia, tragedy struck. Vicki’s favourite Kaimanawa, Argo, showed very mild signs of distress after he’d been for a farm ride; when he didn’t respond to treatment, Vicki called the vet.
Within an hour of the vet treating him, Argo’s appetite returned, and for the first time in hours Vicki felt comfortable leaving his side. At 9 p.m. that night she joined us for a late dinner, and half an hour later she checked him again — he was happily munching on hay and gave her a nudge when she checked him over. Vicki, who slept in a loft above the stables, headed to bed thinking that the worst was over — but less than an hour later, she awoke to hear Argo moving about, unsettled, in his stable below.
Rushing downstairs, she ran to her horse and tried to calm him, but there was little she could do. She rang for help, waking everyone up, but even with three people it was difficult to hold him still. He was quickly losing control of his body and was struggling to stand, often falling to the ground. Vicki managed to give him pain relief, and he finally lay still as we all waited for the vets to reach our property; it was almost midnight and the drive would take at least 45 minutes. By the time the vets arrived, there was nothing they could do to save him and he was put to sleep; he died just as he had lived, surrounded by the people he loved, and in Vicki’s arms.
Argo’s loss shook all of us deeply; we’ve had some incredible horses over the years, but none quite like him. From the moment he arrived from the wild, Argo had a love for humans that was a privilege to be part of, none more so than for Vicki, who became the centre of his world. His ability to enjoy life shone through every day, and he always made the people around him smile; he brought fun, freedom, love and laughter wherever he went. Argo’s intelligence and gentleness won the hearts of people across the nation, and the number of lives he touched over the years was reflective of just how much room he had to love; his patience with his fans knew no bounds.
Vicki’s final words to Argo, her best friend and confidant.
Daminos laying down on the arena, without warning, a few days after Argo was laid to rest. It was a bittersweet moment that reminded us so much of our gentle giant.
For the next few days we walked around in a blur, unable to comprehend why our gentle giant had been taken so young. The loss was especially hard for Vicki as he’d been far more than just a horse to her — in many ways he was her best friend and her confidant. She trusted him explicitly, not only when sitting astride his back but also with her secrets and dreams. Losing Argo was like losing a child, and it left a gaping hole in our family; even the slightest mention of him would bring tears. All over the country, people seemed to understand our pain. Meals were delivered by friends, flowers were sent and drawings of Argo were posted to us in the mail. For days, we lost all inspiration for riding and for life in general, and spent most of our days grieving; working the Brumbies was the last thing on our minds just then.
AMANDA AND I SOON HAD TO RETURN our attention to the Brumbies; for Vicki, it was the Team WS horses that got her back on a horse and excited about something. The distraction was sorely needed, and having something to focus on gave Vicki a purpose again. On her first ride on Daminos after Argo’s death, the striking stallion worked beautifully; and then, as she was cooling him off, he dropped his head down into the sand and collapsed softly beneath her, lying down much like Argo used to do. It was behaviour so unlike that of an élite performance horse and in so many ways a reminder of Argo that it left us shaken. In the days that followed, Daminos really came into his own. Argo’s spirit seemed to shine through the young Holstein stallion, especially in the river where Vicki was able to stand on his back as he trotted lengths. Hearing Vicki laugh again was a relief for everyone.
All too soon we were due at the airport with Shyla and Ballarat. As the flight clashed with a World Cup show, I headed over to Australia alone with the Brumbies, staying with friends in Auckland the night before the flight; Vicki and Amanda would follow a few days later after they had competed. The 2 a.m. start from our friends’ place left much to be desired, and there was a lot of waiting around at the airport for the Brumbies to be loaded onto the plane, together with a young racehorse. Finally, we were in the air at 6 a.m. and I collapsed in my seat behind the cockpit of the cargo plane, exhausted. Three hours later I woke with a start; the plane was descending, and I listened as the pilots counted down the landing. The groom had checked on the horses while I’d been asleep, and all was well. Once we were on the tarmac I was a little apprehensive; we were being collected by total strangers and I could only hope they had remembered to pick us up.
I stood at the front of the horses’ stalls as the cargo box was driven to the unloading corral. Rain and torrential wind shook the box, and the canvas roof was flapping wildly. The Brumbies remained relaxed, but the young racehorse was spooked. They unloaded the racehorse first, onto the wet tarmac; the Brumbies were held while the stressed thoroughbred was led to a waiting transporter. Full of
tension, it danced sideways, half rearing on its lead, nervous about loading onto a strange truck. It took 20 minutes and a sedation before the young horse gained enough courage to walk up the ramp, but finally it was the Brumbies’ turn to load onto a strange vehicle. Just like at home, they were on within seconds and soon we were on the highway, navigating the rush-hour traffic as we headed away from Melbourne. While we drove I chatted with Danielle, our host, about her family and their horses, and the more I heard the more excited I became. There was a real possibility that Moza would suit Ballarat, and I knew how much relief Amanda would feel if she knew in advance who might be bidding. After 40 minutes of driving we arrived at Danielle’s property, and my jaw dropped; it was a horse paradise, with 100 acres of beautifully fenced paddocks, stables, arenas and horses as far as the eye could see. What really impressed me, though, was hearing how often they rode in the You Yangs Regional Park, which bordered the property and was set up with bridle paths on which to ride the horses.
We settled the Brumbies into a paddock so that they could stretch their legs after their flight, and I headed for bed to catch up on sleep. When I woke some time later, I went outside to check the horses and meet Moza. She soon won me over with her stories of riding — she had a zest for life and huge dreams, reminding me of Vicki when she was younger; I had a good feeling about her. The next day we caught the ponies and saddled up for a ride; although Amanda wasn’t there, it gave Moza a chance to get to ride Ballarat and see how they got on.
We started in the small round pen, as I was cautious about having a 10-year-old I didn’t know on such a green, once-wild pony. Ballarat was still reactive at times, and I didn’t want to risk giving her, or Moza, a fright. They began walking and were soon trotting; when the arena door banged shut, Ballarat leapt forward and spun around in fright, but rather than panicking, her little rider laughed and patted her, telling Ballarat she was silly for being scared. Many kids would have panicked and hopped off at that point, or snatched at the reins and frightened the pony further, so I was very impressed with Moza’s incredible feel and relaxed manner. Confident that she was ready for more, I opened the gate and we headed out to a paddock, trotting through fields of long grass. Ballarat was brave and led the way, while Shyla had to be convinced that an old tree trunk wouldn’t kill her, and nor would the black water troughs that lined the races.
After Moza had had her first canter, she circled, grinning, over to where I waited on Shyla and asked whether we could head out into the You Yangs. Initially I’d been unsure about heading out into the open with a young pony and a young kid, but after watching her ride Ballarat for the past 20 minutes I was sure it would be fine. A friend of Moza’s joined us, and together we rode through the towering gum trees in search of logs to jump.
Ballarat took the lead, and I told Moza to choose a pace she was comfortable with. A brisk trot soon turned into a slow canter, and as we wove between the gums Ballarat kept her ears perked, loving the adventure. Beneath me Shyla was also relaxed, enjoying the ride. I wondered whether the smell of gum trees and the kangaroos — both of which they obviously hadn’t come across for some months — made them feel at home. Shortly afterwards we came to a crossroads in the track and Moza fell back to a walk. At the edge of the trees was an obstacle made of tyres, which I thought would be good practice for the Brumbies before the competition. Ballarat and Shyla, who were both quite bold now, bravely stepped their hooves into each tyre. A small log attracted our attention and we turned and trotted over it, but as it was too small for the ponies to jump we headed deeper into the trees, following a sandy riverbed until we came across a fallen tree.
Ten-year-old Moza’s first ride on Ballarat.
Ballarat and Moza jumping over a log in the You Yangs Regional Park.
Moza went first; Ballarat jumped the tree smartly before turning and jumping it again and again. Both Moza and her friend were having heaps of fun, and I tried to hold Shyla steady while I photographed them from the ground. Behind me Shyla was twitching and swishing her tail, but it wasn’t until I felt insects biting me that I realised she was covered in giant mosquitoes. Quickly mounting again I followed the girls over the log before we hightailed it back and washed the ponies off before putting them away.
It was a huge relief having seen Moza handle and ride Ballarat. If she decided that Ballarat would fit into their family, the pony would land on her feet. It was sheer luck that Dan had organised us to stay with a family that had not only a small rider but also one who wanted a new pony; even better, she rode at a higher level than most kids of her age. I had a feeling it was meant to be, and I couldn’t wait for Amanda to see them together when she and Vicki flew in the following day.
I was at the airport early to meet them, and the three of us then spent the morning at the ABC studios, being interviewed by radio stations across Australia. My first two books had been reprinted as an omnibus edition and been released in Australia a week earlier, and this gave us a fabulous opportunity to both promote it and talk about our current work with the Brumbies. We arrived at Moza’s late in the afternoon and saddled up for a ride in the indoor arena. It would be our last schooling session before the competition began, and our last chance to work through everything the ponies would be doing in each of their four classes.
Shyla was hesitant and spooky, and I had one of my worst rides on her; but Ballarat was a little superstar, working well on the flat for the first 10 minutes. Amanda, who was more interested in ensuring that Ballarat had a good future than in competing well over the next four days, asked Moza if she wanted another ride on Ballarat; she did. Instead of schooling her, Amanda put the pair of them through their paces, before jumping over some small jumps. Like me, Amanda was blown away by Moza’s talent and attitude.
CHAPTER 24
Australian Brumby Challenge
Vicki jumping a horse over a bean bag during our opening night show with Double Dan Horsemanship, Flight Without Wings, at Equitana.
Amanda riding bareback and backwards during our Freestyle Challenge with the Double Dans.
Moza and her friends Amber and Saffron, who played the role of us as children during our Dream Sequence.
Arriving at Equitana for the Australian Brumby Challenge was a strange feeling; in many ways, it was an anti-climax. With Moza and Ballarat paired up and hopefully successful in the auction, and Shyla coming home with me to be competed by Nina, I felt as if we were already winners. Regardless of how the next few days went, the outcomes for both ponies were already the best possible scenarios. Competing was now just an opportunity to show the 40,000 people coming through the gates how special Brumbies are.
Once the horses were settled in their stables, we set off to find the Double Dans — the Dan we’d met at Equidays was one of a duo of internationally renowned Australian horse trainers. The other, Dan James, had flown over from America, where he is now based, with his family for Equitana. Not only would they be doing clinics over the whole four days, but they were also sharing the arena with us for the opening night’s show, Flight Without Wings, in front of thousands of people. We would all be using the Double Dan horses for this show — a huge ask since we’d never even met them before. Luckily the horses were well trained and knew exactly what they were doing, and Dan Steers had prepared a fun and interactive plan for the evening event; after a few practices, we were confident that we’d be able to entertain the audience.
The next afternoon the Brumbies had their first class: Handling and Conditioning. Both Amanda and I were happy with our horses — they stood to be caught, picked up their feet nicely and then loaded onto the horse trailer like pros. Ballarat’s loading was beautifully executed, and I thought that there was a good chance they’d place well, so was surprised when neither of us finished in the top six. It wasn’t until we saw the scoresheets that we realised we’d been marked down for leaving the rope on the ground while we picked up the horses’ feet; while we had thought that this showed how quietly the horses were standing,
they had judged it as a sign of poor horsemanship and we’d lost significant amounts of marks.
After the class we turned our focus to the evening performance, running through a final practice. Hoping that we were ready, we waited backstage while the Double Dans did an opening act, then we entered the arena for a challenge of sorts: they shared their passion for reining and freestyles with us, then dared us to give it a go; then in turn we shared our passion for showjumping with them and taught Dan Steers and Double Image to jump — with Dan eventually clearing 1.05 metres, which was pretty impressive for someone who had never worn jodhpurs or ridden in an English saddle before. As the heights increased, the three of us continued jumping, with Vicki and Amanda jumping bareback to 1.40 metres. Next, the Dans brought two horses out to sit on a bean bag and Vicki borrowed the horse I’d been riding and jumped over them. To close the show, Moza and two of her friends joined us to create a dream sequence. The three little girls came out with a miniature chestnut horse and acted us playing with our ponies as children and dreaming of taming horses; it ended with the pony sitting down and all three of them sleeping around him. The lights went out; when they came up, it was to see us, as adults, sleeping beside one of Dan’s chestnut Quarter Horses — we ‘woke’, and together repeated what the girls had done but on a larger scale to show how our childhood dreams with horses had come true. It was a fantastic night, and we thoroughly enjoyed working with the Double Dans to make it happen.
