Daniel Reeds, 35, and his soon-to-be wife Sarah Cooksey, 31, took on the ultimate pre-marital challenge.
Sarah has been riding since the age of four, starting out on a Shetland. She now rides ‘Stig’, a 17.1hh Warmblood Shire, who she is currently training in the hope of competing in one day events next year.
Daniel hadn’t ridden until about a year before the Mongol Derby, his passion being adventure sports. In 2013, he led an expedition to scale an unclimbed mountain in the Venezuelan jungle. As part of the training for this, Sarah spent hours with Daniel, often in the cold and wet, belaying him whilst he rock climbed. As a thank you, when Daniel got back from his successful trip to Venezuela he asked Sarah if there was something she really dreamed of doing. “Horseback safari” was the answer and so Daniel set about learning to ride. Sarah taught him and after just six months in the saddle they headed out to Botswana for a 150 mile horseback safari. They both loved it and Daniel came back with the bug.
After returning from Botswana, the pair wanted to find something that combined Daniel’s love for adventure and new found passion, with Sarah’s love for riding. When they stumbled upon the Mongol Derby there was no looking back.
A whole range of emotions flowed through me as I waved on the other two riders, not wanting them to risk their own race for the sake of ours. But this now meant I was on my own in the middle of Mongolia with no idea of where my fiancé was or whether she was safe…
Earlier in the day things had been going well. Sarah and I had galloped away from camp on day four of The Mongol Derby, officially the longest and almost certainly the toughest horse race in the world, traversing 1000km through Mongolia. The horses we’d been given for the leg were incredible, not only were they breathtakingly fast, but the way they placed their feet amongst rocks, hillocks and Marmot holes was beyond belief. We even thought that, on steeds this fast, we might be able to regain some of the ground we had lost on day two, when Sarah’s horse had decided it wanted to walk the entire 25 mile stage.
But once we’d slowed do
wn, and joined two other riders, I made a major mistake, I forgot for a moment that the horses we were riding were still semi-wild. As we stopped briefly to graze the animals, I casually shifted my foot so Sarah could check whether my girth was tight enough. The moment my boot touched the horse’s side it did a huge bronc, catching me totally off guard and sending me flying over its head. As I hit the floor, I had a split second to decide whether to hold on to the horse’s lead rein and risk serious injury or let go and potentially lose the horse. I chose the latter, but instantly regretted it as I watched in disbelief as, complete with all my gear, the horse span on a six pence and galloped back the way we’d come. Without a second’s thought Sarah asked “should I go after it” and still slightly in shock I said “yes”, watching her disappear in a cloud of dust.
Twenty minutes later and there was no sign of Sarah, or the two horses, and I was starting to get worried. At the breakneck speeds Sarah had shot off at, a broken leg would probably be a ‘best case scenario’ if she fell. My only connection with the outside world was an emergency button on my tracking device, which all racers were obliged to carry. However a few minutes later, minutes which felt like hours, Sarah appeared on her steed. She explained she’d nearly caught my horse, but after the chase entered a forest, and a close call with a low hanging branch, she stopped the chase. I couldn’t bring myself to call for help though and we decided to walk back for a bit and hope my horse had stopped to graze, offering a potential chance for me to remount.
We spotted the horse on a small hill and I watched in awe as Sarah used her horsemanship skills to reign in the rogue horse; that’s when the day’s adventures really began!
Now aware that he could buck me off, the next ten miles of riding were eventful to say the least. I managed to stay on for several episodes with my real life bucking bronco, but came off another three. Aware that if I let go of the reins for a second time the chances were we’d not see the horse again, each time I came off I held on for dear life; even when I fell under the horse and felt hooves coming down on my back and legs. To say I was running on adrenaline when we got into that evening’s camp would be an understatement.
When the adrenaline had subsided however, and I had a chance to reflect on the day, my overwhelming feeling was that of pride; not with myself for surviving, but with Sarah for the way she unquestionably put her own life at risk to recover my horse.
It wasn’t the first or last time, during the nine and a half days racing, that I would look over at my fiancé and simply think ‘wow’. A day after dealing with the bucking bronco, the riding took us through mosquito infested river valleys. That evening when Sarah took off her riding tights I was gobsmacked by the state of her legs. Hundreds of insect bites had swollen up and joined to form one inflamed mass. By far the worst bites I had ever seen, they would leave the entirety of Sarah’s hamstrings black from bruising, but not one word of complaint ever left her lips. Nor had it during the first days of racing when temperatures had reached 38 degrees and numerous riders had to be put on drips for dehydration and the race favourite pull out after she collapsed with heat exhaustion for a second time. Nor later in the race when, in the mountains, we spent a full day in the rain and near freezing temperatures with riders fainting around us from hypothermia.
It wasn’t just Sarah’s endurance that impressed me. Her commitment to ensuring each and every one of the 56 horses we used stayed safe and healthy reflected her true passion for the animals we rode. Even when one of her horse’s sunk up to his belly in a swamp, and I looked on uselessly in stunned disbelieve, she refused to dismount and gently encouraged the horse to keep moving and get itself out of trouble.
The ride wasn’t just about difficult times testing our relationship’s strength, there were beautiful moments we shared which will stay with us for the rest of our lives. Of the breathtaking sunsets we saw, inspirational nomads we met and stunning horses we rode it was an encounter early on the ride that I will remember most fondly. On the first night of the race we didn’t make it to an official camp and instead spent the evening with a local family, whose hospitality I will never forget; as they cooked us dinner in their small ger, looked after our horses and made room for us to sleep. The following morning, as we rode out of the valley, where the ger was located, I looked over at Sarah galloping across a picture perfect meadow, with the sun rising behind rolling hills, and felt totally at peace with the world; if I can replicate that feeling just a few times in our marriage I know it will be a very happy one.
Doing the race together has not only given Sarah and I an experience we will share forever, and acted as an incredible test of our relationship, it’s also the first time in my life, that I’ve been able to truly answer the question ‘Am I a strong human being?’ My own personal hang ups and inhibitions will never let me self-congratulate or acknowledge my own achievements too much, but having survived the world’s hardest horse race alongside my fiancé, seen the hardships she went through, and the incredible determination she showed in doing so, I know I must have ‘done alright’ to complete it alongside her!
Daniel and Sarah raised money for the charities SEED Madagascar and Cool Earth, two organisations that help preserve at risk environments and empower individuals who live there.
For more information on the Mongol Derby visit www.theadventurists.com.
