The Gaucho Derby

with Warwick Schiller

I first heard of the Gaucho Derby when I had adventurer and endurance rider Stevie Delahunt on my podcast, The Journey On Podcast. From the details that Stevie shared with me, I declared right there on the podcast that I was going to sign up. Often hailed as the planet’s most difficult horse race, the Gaucho Derby unfolds over ten days in the rugged wilderness of Patagonia, Argentina. Its name comes from the South American cowboys, gauchos, who herd cattle across estancias, similar to Australian cattle stations. The race is an epic test of endurance, a true survival adventure on horseback. Spanning an arduous 500 kilometres, riders are pushed to their limits as they must adapt to seven different horses throughout the race. Each horse, unfamiliar and unpredictable, presents a new challenge, amplifying the perilous nature of the race. The terrain is treacherous, varying from steep inclines to hazardous descents, where every step can spell triumph or disaster. This is not merely a race; it’s a battle against the elements, the unknown, and oneself.

The physical preparation required to endure long-distance riding for consecutive days began when I went to Oregon in July 2022 to a boot camp that Stevie and her husband Dylan run, where they use their endurance horses to train people for both the Gaucho and Mongol Derbies. As I had never ridden endurance, I was immediately troubled with pain and aching in my knees, especially the left. Then, in February 2023, I went to Argentina to the Gaucho Derby Academy, which prepares people for the race. In October 2023, I went back to Stevie’s for another boot camp. This time, as Oregon was heading into winter, we wanted to test our rain and cold gear.

My physical preparation for the race was lacking. My knee was flaring up with osteoarthritis, and I had not been able to run, so I chose to focus on my core and immediately popped a considerable hernia. Eventually, I settled on a callisthenics program that allowed me to get into some sort of shape without aggravating my problem spots. When I first went to Stevie’s boot camp, I found that riding distances made my thighs sore in the same places that they get when riding bareback, so my late 2023 riding preparation leading up to the Gaucho Derby consisted of trotting and cantering bareback up and down the hills on our ranch in California.

In addition to the physical demands, you must also have done your mental calculations regarding your gear. Participants are only allowed a 10-kilogram saddle bag. This critical weight limit encompasses all essentials: a tent, sleeping bag, mattress, stove, food supplies, a comprehensive medical kit, and any necessary repair tools and materials to address issues during the journey. I weighed everything down to the gram to make sure I would make weight and have everything I needed while on the course.

I was fortunate enough to be joined by my friend Dan James from Double Dan Horsemanship, who was joined by his friend Elliot Holtzman of Versatile Horsemanship in Texas. A few months before the race, another friend of both Dan and myself, Kansas Carradine, also signed up. Kansas, the daughter of the actor David Carradine, has a rich background as a trick rider and roper, having toured globally with the equine show, “Cavalia.”

The allure of the Gaucho Derby is such that every participant, including us, was acutely aware of the forthcoming challenges. Many of us harboured reservations about our ability to withstand the race’s demanding physical trials. Patagonia’s climate is notorious for its capriciousness, necessitating gear that can offer protection against a range from bitter cold to intense heat. However, it’s the region’s almost mythic winds that truly define Patagonian weather, presenting a formidable challenge that stands out even in this rigorous test of horsemanship and survival. On one occasion during the race, the wind was so powerful from my left that it bent my horse’s ears, with one ear pressed flat against his head and the other splayed out horizontally, creating a comical image reminiscent of a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

The challenge is magnified by the absence of a predefined path across the rugged terrain. Instead of following marked trails, competitors must rely on their navigation skills, using GPS devices and detailed topographical maps to find their way through the wilderness, racing toward specific GPS coordinates. The initial plan was for the four of us to ride together. However, the chaos of the race’s start quickly dispersed our group. Kansas and I managed to stick together, while Dan and Elliot ended up as another pair. It would be five days before we saw them again.

Along the race, there are vet check stations, pivotal points where each rider’s progress is monitored, and the horse’s well-being is assessed. Approximately every third vet check marks a new phase in the journey: it is here that riders must switch horses. This transition involves not just reaching the station. but also vetting out the current horse, then capturing, saddling and mounting a new horse, all under the pressure of the ongoing race.

The horses were a mix between an endurance horse and a mountain goat. The gauchos do not think of horses as friends or pets but as equipment to do the job. The horses are hard to catch; they avoid human interaction, but once caught, they are resigned to having a job to do. They’re tricky to get on, and the fact that they’re not used to wearing packs doesn’t help. I saw many competitors get bucked off as they mounted; some ended up with injuries such as a broken leg, snapped ribs that punctured a lung, and torn biceps, and one lady was double-barreled in the chest while trying to catch a horse. Once you get through the initial stage, they are the most sure-footed horses I’ve ever ridden. They will willingly canter across things I wouldn’t lead my horse across. Every day, they showed us what was possible, and our perception of what a horse is capable of was stretched.

During the race, Kansas and I occasionally joined forces with some Australian participants. Among them was Todd Russell from Bowral, a professional in the thoroughbred industry, and Lucy Kyle, a contract muster from Central Queensland. We also teamed up with Will Everett, a Mongol Derby veteran and helicopter mustering pilot from the Territory, and his girlfriend, Caite Kelly.

My breaking point came when my GPS tracker, which had live tracking for viewers at home, stopped working during the race. Despite informing HQ for three days about the issue and being promised a replacement at the next vet station, it never materialised. However, my immediate concern was less about the tracker and more about my wife in California, who, dealing with anxiety, would be checking the live tracking. Realising she might panic seeing my tracker inactive, I was overwhelmed with worry.

At the next vet station, after explaining my situation, I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. I broke down, expressing my frustration vehemently. A medic kindly contacted my wife to reassure her of my safety. Despite my intense frustration with the organisers, the ordeal contributed to unexpected personal growth. By the end, I found a strange gratitude for the ordeal, recognising that the challenges pushed me to evolve, turning my initial resentment into an appreciation for the journey’s transformative power.

We periodically encountered fellow participants throughout the rest of the race, but it was on the last day that our paths truly came together, allowing us to finish as a united group. This collective achievement was immortalised in a photograph with the stunning Mount Fitzroy in the background, capturing our celebratory moment post-race.

The race was more than just a physical or navigational challenge; it was a journey of personal growth and self-discovery. There’s a saying among the participants: “You don’t get the Gaucho Derby you want; you get the Gaucho Derby you need.” This resonated with me deeply as I found myself facing and overcoming unexpected challenges, pushing my limits and learning about my own resilience. By the end of the Derby, I had learned more about my physical and mental endurance and gained a clearer insight into who I am. This story is not just about the adventure or the landscape; it’s about the introspective journey and the personal revelations that came with it.

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