With Dude’s traumatic fall behind us, we said goodbye to Nicaragua. As I rode the final 20 kilometers to the Costa Rican border with Frenchie and Bruiser, I was thankful for our lives.
During my Long Ride home, my horses and I have walked parallel to the grim reaper many times. It is a miracle that the four of us are still alive and healthy.
As I arrived at the border, Emma and a friend met me with Dude in a trailer. We unloaded my little mustang and he limped off the trailer and towards the busy border crossing.
I have always hated the imaginary lines we call borders. I learned how much pain and confusion they can create from the age of 9 when my family emigrated to Canada. This trip has driven that hatred to a whole new level.
Before I saddled up my ponies in Calgary I spent months speaking to the most renowned Long Riders in the world and they all warned me about the problems borders posed for my ride. From Canada to Brazil, I have to cross 11 of these imaginary lines, which have ended many Long Rides due to international bureaucracy.
As Emma and I walked up to a guard at the border he blew his whistle and asked us to get to the side so a truck could enter first. After inspecting the drivers paperwork and talking to him for what seemed like an eternity, he waved me over.
With Bruiser and Frenchie behind me, I told him I had all of the paper work to get the horses across.
“Okay well this is not the entrance for horses, you have to go to that other gate,” he said.
I put my head down, started counting to 10 and made my way to the other gate. With the hot sun burning our heads, Emma and I arrived at the other gate to more whistle blowing.
“No, no, no you cant bring horses through this gate, you must use the other one,” another guard yelled.
I explained to him how his partner had sent us here but he didn’t want anything to do with it.
“The other gate,” he yelled as I tried to explain.
Once again I put my head down and counting to 10 I turned the ponies around and headed back to the first gate.
“What are you doing back here, I said you need to enter through the other gate,” the guard said as I approached him.
As calmly as I could possibly remain at this point, I explained to him what his partner had said. He motioned for me to wait and went to his walkie talkie. After arguing with his partner for minutes he finally waved me in.
“If it took us half an hour to get through the gate, imagine how long its going to take to clear customs,” I said to Emma as we walked towards the immigration office.
We didn’t need to imagine – it took 6 hours to get clearance from Nicaragua to leave the country with my horses. It also took $400 US dollars (Not including the $250 spent on vet and lab fees the week prior).
As we finally crossed over into Costa Rica I was broke and we were all exhausted. The horses and Emma were left waiting while I ran around with the blue form, the yellow form, the green form… waited for officers to each lunch from12 – 1pm… waited for the internet to start working again…. And throughout all of this, not one person even looked at my horses or my pack saddle. The entire process was absolutely ridiculous.
By the time we finally cleared Costa Rican customs, which was made a lot easier with the help of my friend Hector Munoz, the sun was going down.
“Welcome to Costa Rica,” Hector said to us as Emma and I walked towards him with our heads held low.
I cant thank Hector enough for all of his help! He drove to the border to pick up Dude and drive him to Liberia so he could rest his leg while Bruiser, Frenchie and I made the 3 day trek. As his truck drove away with Emma and Dude, I wanted to feel excited about being in Costa Rica, but I was so drained from the border I just wanted to sit in the ground and start crying. Unfortunately, I still had to find a place for Bruiser, Frenchie and I to spend the night.
