One thousand kilometres. Twenty-seven half-wild horses. A week spent surviving in the Mongolian outback. The Guinness Book of World Records calls it the longest equestrian race on Earth.
Mongol Derby, Start Day, 6th August 2014. Photo: Richard Dunwoody
Half of all riders in the Mongol Derby are expected to drop out before the finish line, either quitting or getting pulled off because of injuries or illness. Most riders’ goal is to just finish the 1000km journey: a tough ask on top of semi-wild Mongolian horses that wouldn’t hesitate to bolt, kick you, or buck you off and run.
Based on the postal system created under Genghis Khan, each rider is given a new Mongolian steppe horse at each stop-over station. Great emphasis is placed on their health - there’s a vet waiting at each stop to check your horse. If it’s been pushed too hard, then you’re punished with a time-penalty.
It’s expensive to enter, with the fee set at about NZD$15,000. You’ve got to be selected to race the charitable event too - each Mongol Derby rider has to prove they’ve got a solid background with horses, and are mentally and physically up to the task. This ain’t no pony club joy ride through the outback.
Courtney Davis, a 21-year old vet nurse from Waipara in North Canterbury, rode in this year’s Mongol Derby. Despite experience in show jumping, eventing, breeding, and breaking in horses, she says there’s nothing she could have done to prepare herself for the adventure.
In hindsight, looking back to the start of the race, do you think you were ready for what you were about to do?
Hmm. My mental and physical preparations before, they did help. But it wasn’t until you got out to the steppes and figured out what you needed...
It really hit home, as soon as we got out there, what it takes to finish it. A few people started it wanting to win, but by the second day, they were looking just to survive it. Mentally, you just had to let go: you had to be open to the fact that things go wrong, and you’ve got to just breathe, look up and keep going.
Photo: Richard Dunwoody
Can you tell me about the horses? They’re quite small; they look like ponies in photos.
They’re the Mongolian nomads’ work horses. We would classify them as ponies back here, but they are actually horses. They range from 13.1-14.2 hands high, so they’re quite small. Luckily for me, being smaller than a few of the other riders, I was quite at home on them. But for the taller guys, the ones 6ft or taller, it took them a while to accommodate to their size!
They’re so sturdy and strong, nothing like what we have back here. Incredible, hardy beasts. I was honoured to ride them.
The vet checks were quite rigorous weren’t they?
Yeah, definitely. The first thing they’d do is a heart-rate check, then a general health and well-being check, and if they weren’t up to scratch you’d be penalised.
In the past, people have lost the race because of penalties.
Yeah, that’s actually what happened last year. It’s unfortunate because sometimes it’s not something we could help. By the end of the race, when you’ve just ridden that whole distance, to have something fired at you is quite heartbreaking.
Ok, let’s back up to the start of the race, when you first set off. What was going through your mind?
Well, as soon as they lifted the banner, half the horses tried to turn around and run the other way! (laughs). A few of the riders had already come off.
It took a while to get into the rhythm and feel of it, and by the end of the first day I’d had a few things go wrong. The last horse I rode bolted from me, slipped on a hole, flipped, and landed on me. I thought I had dislocated my shoulder. You get penalised for medal checks though, so I put my foot down and said ‘no I’m fine, I’ll carry on’. So, I had no use of my arm and I was feeling really sorry for myself, when I hopped off afterwards, turned around and the horse double-barrelled (kicked) me in the legs!
Oh my God!
(aughs) Yeah, so I ended that day in great spirits. It was tough, that first day. We all sort of got chucked in the deep end. And that horse in particular was a fierce horse. The herders (at the stations) were a bit cautious about handling it, even. When they tied it up, it broke off and tried to chase away other horses. That was only day one.
Sunset at Horse Station 7. Race Day 3. Photo: Richard Dunwoody
What about the land you were riding through, the environment? You’re in backcountry Mongolia aren’t you?
It’s completely variable. One day you’re riding through desert land with a bit of scrub, the next through the bottoms of valleys that are boggy and swampy.You'd have to stay out of those, or you’d be stuck trying to drag your horse out. Going over the hills (which are more like mountains) they were quite rocky and barren. But the passes we rode through, they were absolutely gorgeous, just covered with trees and wildflowers and a whole lot of wildlife.
Were those the best moments?
Yeah. I should say, my happiest moment was just finishing the race! But I think about this one moment, when I was by myself and I came up through the top of the path of a particular pass. There was a storm brewing, and to my left were lightning strikes all around me, but I looked down into the valley and the land just stretched out in front of me, as far as you can see. And I just thought yep, this is why I’m here.
What place did you come in the race?
I crossed the line tenth with my group, but because of penalties we dropped down to 13th. The race started out with 48 people! I was pretty happy, and quite chuffed that we’d just survived it. About 10 people dropped out, because of medical reasons and other circumstances. Usually double that are expected to drop out.
Would you do it again?
Oh, definitely. Most of us were saying we’d never do it again because we’d tempted fate too often. But now that I’m back home, I think I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I plan to go back in 2016 and run it again. And I plan to win it.
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