It wasn't on the tourist map. Infact, it wasn't really anywhere. Just a couple of houses and service stations strung out along the main road running through Guanacaste. She had told me to get off at 'Limonelle'. The bus driver had asked "Por qué Limonelle?". My answer... to be honest, I wasn't really sure. "Ma amigo..." was all I could think of to say. A random lady whom I had arranged to meet at a random cafe to help out at a random international horse race (even to this day I have no idea of the name!). You might say: silly, stupid or even dangerous. Whatever it was, it was an experience I was unwilling to let pass me by; an experience by torchlight!

We arrived at the race ground just after dark. I could see no flashy trailers or sleek manacured horses. No long boots or netted hair. Infact, all I could see under the golden floodlights were a couple of dainty horses calmly munching hay between old pickups and afew young dudes wandering back and forth with buckets of water.
"When does the race begin?" I asked, wondering why exactly we had bothered to come the night before.
"Oh- the 120km has already begun." Sabine replied.

We settled her horse -a beautiful, young arab- into a makeshift stall between her pickup and some metal fencing before heading off to "The Breifing": two official ladies from the States who wizzed through a seemingly irrelevant set of rules for International Horse Endurance to the bewildered looks of the ruff and ready competitors. They spoke no English. Hence the need for a translator -Tara, Sabine's 16 year old daughter- who provided an apparently very intertaining Spanish rendition. So, now that all the rules were out of the way, the rest of the races could begin.

Endurance riding sees horse and rider challenged over different terrains in a race against the clock with typical distances ranging from 40-160km. In most countries, these races occur durring the day. Here in Costa Rica, you have the added element of an intense midday sun so to avoid the heat competitors race through the night!

When the time came for Sabine to begin her race -around 3am- we made our way to the start line... Except there was no start line, no starting gun and no apparent order. Just a splayed clattering of hooves as numbers were called and the horses tool off. By law each horse must stop for a vet check at least every 40km in which the rider and his team is given a set time to bring the horse's body temperature down to an acceptable level and to ensure that he is fit to continue. So, as Sabine came flying in after her second lap we set to work pouring icy water over her mare -bucket after bucket spilled down her sweaty, chestnut coat until at last Sabine gave us the thumbs up. She was ready to go. The excitement rose as she led the mare over to the vet gate for inspection...the temperature was taken, the legs inspected...and...yes! She passed! So it was back in the saddle for the next leg of the race!

Meanwhile the rest of us headed back to the pickup in search of 20 minutes sleep before the next round of icy water. Just one more vet check followed and then she was on the home strait: a bright, white headtorch pounding up the dirt road to finish a very respectable second place. But there was no big ceremony or celebrity photo shoot, just a cheer from the bleary eyed crowd and a delighted clapping of hands.

As the sun began to appear, turning the distant trees a golden umber, we began the slow progression of packing up empty water buckets and smelly clothes before heading to the bathrooms to clean ourselves up. It had been unlike any other horse race I had ever heard of: small, informal and low key... Yet competing there were horses and riders who would go on to race again, this time in some of the world's greatest endurance races. It was a burst of fresh air in a world so often dominated by the fumes of Million Dollar Trailers.