Drawn by Horse Power!
- Nikki Gray
- Jun 16, 2017
- 3 min read
WE PUT the bridle on backwards. Coco, a 13-hand Irish draught horse, patiently rolled her dark eyes. In a field in County Wicklow, Ireland, my husband and I were learning how to catch, harness, yoke and drive our holiday home, a horse and caravan weighing almost three-quarters of a ton. The gypsy caravan seemed a great idea for an eco-friendly holiday but after a cold, rainy start was beginning to suspect I was not cut out for this after all.
Neasa Clissmann, whose parents, Dieter & Mary founded the caravan company 40 years ago, was reassuring as she helped us plan our route and revealed that 80 per cent of her visitors have never handled a horse before. “Don’t hesitate to call us any time you’re worried,” she said. As we would be travelling about 10 km a day, circumnavigating the Clissmann base, they would always be, quite literally, just up the road.
The Clissmanns have about 30 horses and caravans which are all built in a traditional, rounded, painted-wooden style, with space for four adults, or a couple
and a few children. The beds convert into sofas and tables during the day. There is a gas stove for cooking and a sink but no running water or loo. Tiny windows let shafts of natural light inside and at bedtime there are gas lamps. It is basic, cosy and pretty cramped. I was instantly entranced and started playing “house”.
As we set off, perched nervously on the narrow wooden seat, our “teacher” rode
with us until we were confident, then waved us off down the road. A horse and caravan take up the space of a mini-bus but move at walking speed, yet motorists were remarkably tolerant and tourists stopped to take photos.
Inside a moving caravan, tidiness is essential and clothes and food are locked away in narrow cupboards and drawers. I packed flouncy skirts, hoop earrings and tambourines but in the end spent most of our time in borrowed wellingtons, jeans, jerseys and wind-breakers. Coco had been resting all winter and was extremely strong but were advised to jump off and walk beside her to lighten the load on steep hills or at intersections.
It was a lovely, gentle feeling strolling along beside her nodding head, listening to
nothing more than the clop of hooves and the jangle of harness. County Wicklow, an hour and 1/2 South of Dublin, is known as the “Garden of Ireland”. We entered a dreamy, tree-canopied world, turned 50 Shades of Emerald from Ireland’s endless rainfall, and clopped down quiet lanes, past rose-clad cottages and rolling fields.
Farm horses trotted along the fence to greet Coco as we passed. There are about
20 designated overnight stops along various routes; next to pubs, B&B's or campsites, all with fields for the horse and showers for us. We spent our first night at “home-base”, and set off the next day in freezing rain to a camp site in Rathdrum about 8km away.
We felt a genuine sense of achievement as we unhitched Coco and released her into a makeshift paddock (which my husband had moved to fresh pasture for her.) We were both soaked to the skin and rushed off to warm up in a cosy pub up the hill. We felt much better after a strong, Irish coffee and delicious chicken, ham and mushroom pie. We managed to stay warm under a patchwork of different duvets and water bottles.
Each morning, “First, catch your horse” proved remarkably easy, as Coco, lured by
a handful of oats, stood calmly as my husband cleaned her hooves, brushed her down and tacked her up in a puzzle of buckles, straps, hooks and chains.
Returning through the Clissmanns’ gates, we felt genuinely sad as we gave Coco an apple and said our goodbyes while she rolled in the wet grass. It was an exhilarating, hilarious and quite exhausting 3 days. Holidays should be like this – muddy, energetic and basic. With no internet or cellphones we had no choice but to chat, rest and play cards.
I can’t wait to do this again, but with a few grand-children en-tow.
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