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Writer's pictureMartin Allison

NOV 21 - DEC 3: A 2 WEEK ORDEAL


Although I, more than anyone, wish that the 1-3 day excitement-packed updates were just as plentiful now as they were in summer--overall, it's just not the reality. & to be quite transparent, I'm not sure they should be.


For no negative reasons at all, it's just that the work so far here has been primarily chores or observational-learning centered, whereas the ventures that were summer 2022 seemed to be a bit more journal-worthy. I'm sure a big part of that was due to the hilariously helpless tourists and the questionable-stable (and definitely sleep deprived) coworkers both two and four legged. The tales just seemed that of legend, while this one feels a bit more like foundation-building history. It's definitely nice, and absolutely needed, as if there's one thing that will help me navigate the waters of what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life...it's stripping things down to their foundation.


So here's a sweet anthology-style entry of the first two weeks...give or take some days. :)


NOV 20/SUNDAY

The drive from Rikke's familiar Reykjavik to the nestled hillside of Saudárkrókur was quiet and chilly--and when we arrived after many a mandarin orange and dropping off some horses at the stables, I admittedly found myself staring into a pint of coffee-flavored Skyr (huge iykyk when it comes to my relationship with Skyr) creating tiny motivational speeches for myself each spoonful. I stayed up until 3:00am making the small (preferably, even in Alaska I picked the smallest out of the 4 available rooms--it just feels safer to come home to ya know?) space into the haven I would need in my initial few weeks. Some photos and sketches, some cut outs and wine labels. The pom pom string from Peru, and a random elf pillow from Marshalls I stuffed with normal-people pants. By the end of it all--the only downloaded copy of a Sherlock episode ("A Scandal in Belgravia", because "The Hounds of Baskerville" felt a little too deep rn) I had playing on repeat as I waited to see if the anxiety would hit looping through memorized scenes at the edge of my bed--I sat wrapped in my oversized sweatshirt and just smiled. I'm not fully excited yet, but as soon as the clouds lift over the new routine I'll soon fall into, I'm sure the emotions will develop accordingly.

NOV 21/MONDAY

On my first official work day I was given a 10am start (a luxury afforded very few in this industry I feel) which came warmly welcomed given my previous night's interior design spree. My first moments were filled with coffee (thank god) and meeting the "Elisa" of my new workplace. You know, the one who's been there long enough to know each horse by exact name and that has the level of riding experience that you expect to see on international competitions? Writing this now I already know that actual Elisa would really love new-workplace "Elisa"--Fanney. Fanney graduated from Hólar this year, and her family owns a horse rental in the west--so if anyone's the person to listen to during my day-to-day, it's her. She's in charge of riding/training all of the 3-year-olds (about 9 of them each day) and a handful of older horses, and does it all with ease. Writing retrospectively--I've quite enjoyed my first two weeks learning from her & watching her work. But on this particular day, she found me cleaning the trailer & told me to drop my shovel and come on my first ride--on one of her 3 year old stallions. It's hilarious looking back now, because up until that point I

had never ridden a Stallion (let alone a 3 year old), but any nerves I had (esp given my first ride at the summer workplace...lol) disappeared as we tölted across the riding way around the small lake--panoramic mountains beaming with the midday sunlight all around--it had to be the coolest experience ever. At the end of the ride we did a small canter/gallop, and I don't think I've ever been on a horse as quality as that in my entire life. The movements were an entirely different level than I ever thought possible, and now I understand why the riders on $150,000+ horses look like they have a seat of glue. Obviously they are great riders, but the amount that the horse's actual movements play into that are unquestionable. I'd love to put one of them on Spons for once in their life, and I might feel a bit better about my seat too. God let's just imagine Spons in an international dressage arena for a moment before moving on--


NOV 22-NOV 26/TUES-SAT

I started at the normal 8am time for the rest of the week, and on Tuesday I rode a different horse with the Boss on another small lake-side ride. He explained a bit of the training they do with horses to me, and gave me a mini-lesson on tölt as we rode. I spent some time after my barn chores each day taking photos of the horses and scenery to send back to the parents--they're quite excited about it all especially considering the situation I'd found myself in at Alaska. Mary called me Tuesday night and asked "are you happier than Alaska?" and it made me take a breath and realize just how far I'd shifted on the spectrum of workplace environments. God yes, so much happier. But 'happy' isn't really the right word for the surrounding peace that I've gotten even thus far here in comparison to the isolation and disregard at AKHR. Also, if I spent my life chasing 'happy' I'm not sure I'd get much further than where I was to begin with.

My boss gave me a snowflake christmas light, and then told me he feels like I'm not asking for everything I need (& that I should feel comfortable enough to ask if I need anything)--I could've cried. Its so shocking that I assume jobs don't see you as an individual first, instead of the other way around? There's a lot to emotionally unpack there, and this is definitely the perfect place to do so as I therapy myself this winter.


On the horsey side of things my boss had me try another horse, which went fine all things considered until the end of our outside ride. I wouldn't be as dramatic to say it was bad, but I will say there was absolutely not relaxation or collection when we turned around to go home. At a certain point I just let her run it out of her system, which worked, but as Fanney says 'you teach what you release,' so I have to figure out a different way to encourage more teamwork on both mine and the horse's behalf.

I spent the rest of the week working with the same horse in the riding hall practicing my own riding technique and trying out different styles of pressure and contact to better communicate with the mare, and while I really love how much I'm learning about this style of riding every time I get on--I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the relaxing, after-work Mbrün rides, laughing and running around wildly without a care in the world. Of course as I write I understand that the reason Mbrün & my rides were so relaxing and fun were because of the trust relationship we built up (as with any horse), but I don't think its lying to say Mbrün was also just much more chill than the horse I'm currently working with. Don't get me wrong, as you've read or seen if you've ventured through those posts, M definitely had some power to her, and won the races for me while also keeping me on my toes in a balls-to-the-wall type of way, but at the end of the summer I could've ridden that horse anywhere, anytime, and trusted her with my life. It's fair to say I'm nowhere near that with the current horse situation, but we are only 2 weeks in. This will be super fun character development to read back in the future, as well as write about when I'm a couple months older & wiser.

I've thoroughly enjoyed the hidden moments each day with the horses more so than I could've imagined. My buddies in barn 4, switching out the stallions on the fields and watching them run to greet me, smell the fresh hay rounds, and getting lost in some depth of metaphorical thought while cleaning boxes. I know that mucking seems like the bottom-of-the-totem-pole in the equestrian hierarchy, but I really enjoy it. It's where it all started back in my preliminary riding days, mucking for credit, and now I can feel it transform into one of those things that really helps you learn to get in touch with yourself through simple, physical labor. I hope to never in my lifetime become a too-good-to-muck-out equestrian--if you ever see that from me, take my horse away.

Friday (Nov 25) the boss took Fanney & I in the car to watch the 'Peace Walk' at 9am. Essentially all of the primary school children get candles and line up along a pathway that leads up a hill to a cross, and they light their candles one after another, all the way up the line, until the last upper-level student sparks on their light at the top (next to the cross) and the cross illuminates. It all felt very brisk and pure, and I'm thankful to have been able to witness it. We went to the bakery afterwards for a fun snack, before heading back to the stable for a pot of coffee and forming a game plan for the day. It's probably partway attributed to the fact that winter is just a slower pace of work in general, but I can't write enough about my love for the taking-things-day-by-day mentality that I've found myself swimming in here. Everyone has their tasks for the day, but if its a tired day there's no stress to take things slower--or faster if you're feeling energetic. It feels human, and I'll say it a million times more: what a workplace concept!

On Saturday (Nov 26) a group came to visit the stables and see the youngsters, so it was exciting to give some extra brushing to the ones being shown and watch the demonstrations that the boss gave--all while mostly staying out of the way. He gave me a 10am start for Sunday, so I went to bed extra relaxed knowing I had a few extra hours to nestle into my warm cocoon. I think my favorite moment of the week was Fanney describing the stable yard community as a 'horse village,' and inquiring as to whether or not we have them in the US. I truly don't think we do, at least not in the same sense as what's going on here in Iceland--most stable yards are private establishments, and I think its because the turn out spaces are a little more structured and divided in contrast to the Icelandic style of string fences and pop-up pastures that horses don't even think to jump over or burst through. Horse Village: 1, US Stables: 0.

NOV 27/SUNDAY

It's official, I am driving a manual car. That which Lisa & Axelle might have thought impossible, is becoming QUITE possible, as I had my first official driving lesson in the manual car around the stable yard after work today. My boss' reasoning for learning the manual driving style was naturally bullet-proof: "what if you're on the run in Europe and you go to the getaway car, and its a manual car, and you can't get away?" I told him I'd probably have bigger issues to worry about if I was on-the-run James Bond style on the European continent, but other than that it was completely fair logic. I need getaway car skills. The workload was light as the day started late, but right before lunch the boss plopped me in the driver's seat of the Toyota manual & 30m later I was driving. He left at lunchtime to spend time with his family, as the work week had been full and his eldest daughter just returned from her school trip (I am also very excited to meet & get to know her!) and left me to my lunch & evening tasks--making sure to mention that if I needed anything I had the car now and could get home if needed. Naturally I spent the better half of the work day stressing about whether or not I'd have to embark on a drive home using my fresh skill-set, but he ended up returning to accompany me on the drive home, as I did indeed, drive home. We took a little tour through the town, went to the gas station, and through it all I only stalled out once, and not even in an inconvenient place! It was a 10/10 win in my book, and I promptly scurried inside to call Ethan and let him know of my daily success.



NOV 28-DEC 3/MON-SAT

I was prepared for many aspects of my new life up north by my sweet summer down south—all except the neccesarry finesses of scooping frozen solid shit. This week featured decreasing temps, increasing layers, and shoveling frozen shit out of the Rubik's Cube of gravel in the paddocks. I have no idea why I never thought about it, but if you're somehow finding yourself in an equestrian workplace during zero & sub-zero winter temps, this is your official warning. I've resorted to just kicking it with my foot until the entire chunk comes loose and I swing it over into the muck pit--it's kind of oddly satisfying watching the entire collection chunk come up, but now this post is getting a little too personal even for me.

I have begun to notice the new changes in my lifestyle first in my fingers--the way they feel between the joints and how the stretch out. The muscles on my hands always grow first, and not in a bulky or concerning way, but in an almost imperceptible way that I somehow always notice. It gives me a strong “hands of working person” feel, and feeds my ego in an extremely niche and entirely uncalled for way. I also really have been loving the thought of the hands as the most honest recorders of our life's years. I know most people hate the way their hands display their age, or feel as the years go past, but I'm genuinely excited to have hands that held a lifetime. We really don't pay enough attention to our hands each day--they're feeling it all for us and will hold who we were, and who we will be, for us in the most intimate way.

The snow should be coming next week, so I'm taking as many golden sunlight and faded yellow grass photos as I can, with the horses fluffy and dry and the reflections bright and glossy. I know the crew probably thinks I'm nuts for always running for the photo, but if I learned anything from spending autumn repeatedly scrolling through my digital memories of fleeting summer sunsets and belly-laughs with my crew, it's that one day I'll be lying in bed at 100 Timberlake--or wherever my next move ends up being when life's wave crashes me along--and I'll cling to the fragments of the moments of today more so than ever. They'll remind me why we all float along, and that we'll all float somewhere calm and warm eventually.


The northern lights finally came out to play this week as well--and as I stood after dinner outside watching them palely fragment across the sky I begun to weep a little. I say weep because 1) it feels very dramatic, and the emotions of that moment were in fact, very dramatic, & 2) crying seems too obvious of a word, weeping feels more inward and sealed. I could've just said I had a private few tears while I stared at the sky, but that really sucks the joy out of the whole memory and would make this blog and utter waste of time. And in that moment, seeing something I had waited so long to see, while standing somewhere I had waited so long to stand, I felt my excitement I had been waiting to arrive. Life is quite grand and what a funny little joy that I get to play a part in the story.





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