by Darren Baumgardner and Nancy Critchley
I’m not sure if my father was the artist responsible for the carefully stenciled letters of the name of our stables on the side of our “horse-van,” but I do know that he was the carpenter of the contraption.
It was the end of June 1967 and we were on our way to Houston, Texas, hauling two horses in the back of a 1965 GMC truck complete with a home-made plywood – yes, plywood – horse-van securely fastened to the truck box.
I recall my father training the two horses to load into the horse “trailer” (and I use that term loosely) in our farmyard. This process had to begin at least two or three weeks prior to the big trip and was, to say the least, innovative and, at times, very unorthodox.
At one point, my grandpa was shouting instructions from the barn door, including one to “ride the horse into the box.” That suggestion started a whole new argument.
Everyone who has ever hauled a horse or two has a story, and it usually involves a lot of ropes and unorthodox methods of loading.
Darren Baumgardner says his adventure took place on a dark and stormy night in central Alberta. He and wife, Heather, were experienced haulers and had travelled extensively down the road … at least a mile or two each time. During their hauling “expeditions” they used their old, side-by-side trailer that was at least 20-some years old.
The story goes, that as they left their weekly lesson at the local stable one winter night years ago, the weather conditions got rapidly worse. It was then that they discovered that the previous owner’s claims that their young gelding was trailer-broke might have been a bit of a stretch.
Darren and Heather, being the self-proclaimed experienced horsemen that they were, coaxed and called the young horse as if it were a dog. They even offered bribes. Figuring this game out pretty quickly, the gelding didn’t actually step up into the trailer, he just leaned his head in, taking the treats from their hand.
Snow, wind, and cold was making it hard to see and even harder to keep moving and “Plan A” was obviously a write-off, so it was time for “Plan B.”
Armed with 140 ft. of high-quality, cotton rope, Darren and Heather were confident in their new plan. Thirty minutes later, with a maze and tangle of rope securely in place inside and outside the trailer and around their gelding’s rump, they were at it again.
They began pulling frantically, puffing and panting. While they were determined not to give up, the ground was covered in three inches of ice, making it difficult footing to say the least. With their hands and feet near frostbite and the gelding a mere six inches closer to the trailer, they were almost out of ideas and no closer to home.
It was just at this time that their trainer came out of the barn to see the pair in action.
His reaction to the spider-web of rope and the exhausted (but definitely more experienced by this time) horsemen was a mix of dismay and sympathy. After all, haven’t we all been in this situation at least one time or another?
Within minutes, their trainer had taken control and given them a lesson in how to correctly load a horse. Success at last!
They drove home feeling quite proud of their new knowledge … and they were pretty sure that they had this horse thing all figured out.
Darren readily admits now that, little did they know, the lessons had only just begun.
As for the homemade, plywood horse hauler and my trip to Texas, well, it wasn’t without incident and tense moments too. When we got home, my dad conceded and bought a proper horse-trailer.
