Prior to embarking on my Long Ride, I spent months doing research and speaking to CuChullaine O’Reilly, the founder of the Long Riders Guild. Having spent more than thirty years studying equestrian travel techniques on every continent and completing Long Rides across Pakistan, he is the best mentor a would-be Long Rider could ever ask for.

“Borders and traffic will be your biggest obstacles,” O’Reilly wrote to me in an email early on during our talks.

After almost two years in the saddle I can now say I agree 100% with O’Reilly’s statement. More than once my ponies and I have come only a few meters from being hit by a truck or car. In Southern Mexico a raging pick-up almost took Frenchie’s life when it hit him with the brute force of a machine. It was by far the worst moment of the trip so far.

These roads full of drivers with no patience and no understanding of horses lead you straight to the imaginary lines we call borders. Places where corruption often runs rampant and sense is commonly replaced by an abundance of paper and stamps.

What my trip has taught me thus far is that the modern world is no longer fit for a Long Rider. There is no form for a saddle-tramp to enter a country. No stamp. No hitching post in which to tie your steed.

After crossing six of these imaginary lines, the bureaucracy finally caught up to us. On a sunny and humid Monday morning I arrived at the Panamanian border. In the Ministry of Agriculture office, the department in charge of the transit of animals, I was met with extreme confusion. I told two of the workers that I needed to bring three horses into the country, they looked at me as if I had said elephants.

“Well you will have to talk to the vet about that,” a man in a vest replied.

After waiting the entire day for the vet to arrive, he was a no show.

“Tomorrow morning he will be here, come back around 8am,” another employee told me.

The next morning we were there bright and early once again. And once again the vet was not there. By the afternoon he had arrived, just in time to eat his lunch. I sat in a small office nervously waiting for him to finish eating his rice and hot dogs.

“Mr. Leite, please come on in,” he said from the doorway.

I took a seat and explained my journey to him. When I finished he sat there looking at me with a blank face.

“I tell you Mr. Leite, we here in Panama have very strict rules for the importation of equines so as to prevent the spread of diseases… I will print out all of the prerequisites you will have to meet,” he said as he began typing on his computer.

After about thirty minutes he handed me a stack of papers with highlighted paragraphs. He went over everything from the thousands of dollars it would cost me to quarantine my horses without being able to see them for 15 days… The long list of exams they would have to undergo… etc, etc.

The list just kept getting worse and worse. As I neared the end of the stack of documents I read something that hit me like a ton of bricks. “Equine must have remained for at least six months in preceding country,” read the document. My heart stopped, my horses did not meet this requirement, they had only been in Costa Rica for little over a month.

Just as my eyes finished reading the sentence on the page, he spoke with psychic-like-power.

“Yes, this is going to be a big problem Mr. Leite, I will have to speak to my superiors to see what we can do,” he said.

I left his office heart broken and with my head held low. I had faith they would help me get in, but still had to figure out how I would come up with the almost $3000 dollars it would cost to enter Panama and then thousands more for the flight from Panama City into South America.

For the next few weeks I spent my days at the border and on the phone with Panamanian politicians, trying to enter the country. What I encountered at this border was the worst I have ever come across. The prerequisites they set are nearly impossible to meet. Especially for a Long Rider.

“Panama has put an end to Long Rides previously,” O’Reilly, founder of the Long Riders Guild, wrote to me in an email of support.

After nearly a month spent trying to enter Panama, it seemed like it was going to do the same to my ride. My last meeting with the vet I told him many Costa Ricans and Panamanians had told me no one takes their horses legally into Panama because of how senseless Senasa is and that I should do the same. He responded, “If we catch one of your horses in Panama Mr. Leite, it will be terminated on the spot.”

As Emma and I headed back to the horses who were a few kilometers from the border resting, I had no idea what the future held for us. I was so scared. So defeated. So frustrated. Here we were almost 10 000 kilometers from Canada not being able to advance. Not due to a mountain we couldn’t conquer or a river we couldn’t cross, but an imaginary line drawn by men long long ago.

It was only a few days from Christmas and our Long Ride faced a hurdle bigger than any we have encountered. One which was completely out of our hands.

As I got back to my three kids I simply leant on the fence and watched them graze. “How will we continue… how will I get you home?” I ask myself.