I arrived in Santiago under cold rain, strong winds and heavy fog. It was as if with Mark’s departure, my close friend and support driver, the world turned grey. My socks were drenched and my toes were frozen. My hair was soaked. My soul battered.
“Oh my god son, you must be freezing. You travel alone, where are the other riders,” a short, elderly man said walking towards the mares and I.
I opened a shy smile and responded, “I ride alone sir.”
He was perplexed. Simply couldn’t believe it.
“Wow, you are my hero,” he said offering me his right hand.
I dismounted under a long shed and thanked the mares for all of their work. With every bone in my body aching, especially my back, sleeping in my stinky tent was not an option. Luckily my new host offered me his apartment to rest. That night I slept for 14 hours straight. I was exhausted. Being in a soft bed for the first time in days felt strange but wonderful.
Feeling rested, I spent the next day with my new friends. They showed me photos of the cavalgadas they went on and told me about their love for the horse. Obviously a lot of meat was barbecued.
“Every year we go get the Criollo flame and bring it to our community on horseback,” my host told me.
To celebrate the end of the longest revolution in Brazil, the Farroupilha revolution which lasted 10 years and saw Rio Grande do Sul separate from the rest of Brazil, every year the criollo flame is lit in a special location and carried on horseback to every single town in the state. From the 14th through the 20th of September the state stops every year.
“The revolution lasted from 1835 to 1845 and to the Gaucho it is the most important event in history,” he explained to me.
That night I presented my talk at the CTG to a room full of little Gauchos and their parents. It’s always such a gratifying experience to talk to young kids about my dream and my journey. I can see that it has an immediate effect on most of them and after the talk many approach me to say thank you.
“Congratulations Mr. Filipe, when I’m older I want to ride my horse somewhere really far too,” a 12-year-old boy told me with bright eyes.
