Week One: The Farm
Lofthusgård Horse farm
I have been working on a horse farm in Norway for a week now. Strangely, and yet not so strangely, it has been everything I thought it would be.
I heard about Work Away a lot while traveling in South America. A website and collection of postings from people all over the world looking to exchange room, board and cultural experiences for work.
Every post is unique based on location, work needed, or the exchange offered. Some offer payment but most are based in the realm of trade. People are looking for help with just about everything: graphic design and website building, permaculture to simple home gardens needed weeding, horsemanship to receptionist in a hostel or guesthouse, childcare and pet sitting. The possibilities and experiences to be had are endless.
Once I had confirmed that I would indeed spend most of February at Luftus, a horse farm two hours west of Oslo, I tried to imagine what it might be like. I imagined waking up early for morning chores, and staying up late chatting at the dinner table. I imagined there would be lots of snow, a big red barn, and fields of horses.
I created an idea of what it might be like, a fantasy of what I wanted it to be like. But I couldn’t know as I have never been to Norway before. I also haven’t been around horses for over fifteen years. And even then, I’m no horse woman.
I first rode a cheeky and very stout black shetland pony named Benji. I was maybe seven and spending a few weeks in Northern Ireland visiting family. The next summer, back in Ireland, I rode a white horse named Misty during a few riding lessons. And the summer after that I went to Pony Camp for a few days where I rode and cared for a chestnut horse named Cherry. She didn’t like any of the other horses and the three other little girls in the camp were all named Hannah.
For the last couple years I have felt drawn to the idea of spending time on a farm. Working outdoors and with ones hands is attractive to me, and very likely romanticized, as I tend to do. I wanted to get a taste of what having a farm is like, and what it feels like to live out in the country side. In the middle of no where. Another romantic notion.
I was also pining after some real winter as I enjoy weather in extremes. So in my fantasies of this farm life experience, there was of course snow of winter wonderland proportions. To my delight, as I rode the Flix Bus from Copenhaden to Oslo the snow on the ground grew hour by hour, from a light dusting in the south of Sweden to banks of fresh snow blanketing Oslo in white. I would learn later that they had just had four days of continuous snow fall.
My first day on the farm was magical and felt oddly like a homecoming. There was indeed a big red barn in the center of the farm, there was a few feet of fresh snow, and the cherry on top was a cloudless deep blue sky. It felt lucky and a very good omen to start my three weeks here on such a beautiful day.
Our Routine:
Our days begin around 7am, waking up along with the first light from the sun and with two planets rising above the yonder hills. One is Venus and the other might be Jupiter. I stumble from bed into clothes I had designated as my horse clothes, and then head down the little path to the main house. We set the table, bring out all the breakfast fixings and eat breakfast together.
Then we start morning chores: watering and bring hay to the horses and school ponies, turning out the stable horses, and then mucking out all the stables. We usually finish around noon, just in time for lunch or a second breakfast of waffles and coffee.
Our days are our own, perfect for writing, planning future travels, riding or snow shoeing. Sometimes I hold up in my gorgeous little room, like I am now. Or I might convene at the kitchen table with my Work Away companion and various family members.
It feels like no time at all before evening unfolds and the sun begins to set. Around 6pm we head back out to bring all the horses back into their boxes and once again drive the quad trailing water and hay up to the school ponies. Grains are then delivered to every impatient horse before we all head back inside for dinner.
It has been physically demanding work, especially for my noodle-like arms, but a most enjoyable routine. Everything has been almost exactly how I had imagined, affirming that this was indeed where I was meant to be. Where I was meant to begin my travels through Europe.
Notes on my first week:
The horses know I am new and are testing me, maybe even hazing me.
On my first morning I was bullied by a large chestnut mare, nicknamed The Queen. Not due to her hierarchical rank amongst the herd of horses, but a reflection of how she carries herself and allows humans to interact with her. She knocked me several times while putting on her rug (the little winter coats they wear). Then as we walked out to the paddock (turning out) she did something akin to body checking. She leaned on me as we walked, trying to push me into the snow.
Apparently I am to establish my dominance over the horses, something that does not come naturally to me. This involves lots of pushing back both physically and verbally.
A young horse escaped from the paddocks as we were turning the horses back in tonight. Lilliegul is her name and she took herself on a lovely gallop around the farm before heading straight into her box. It was my fault she went loose, still working on establishing my dominance.
This morning, another pony went loose. I got to ride the quad up to the school ponies to refresh their hay and water, and with false confidence said I could manage alone. Everything went very smoothy until I was faced with a horse named Curly (but in Norwegian of course). I am positive she saw me coming on the quad and thought, this new girl doesn’t know shit. As I opened the fence to drive the quad though she shimmied her way between the tiny opening in the fence and the quad, completely unfazed by my yells (more like pleads) and uninterested in fresh hay. Off she went trotting down the road to visit with every other horse on the farm. You could actually feel just how pleased she was with herself.
At dinner tonight I learned the orca in the fjords here are peaceful and can be swum with. However, their North American counterparts, living along the west coast in a very similar habitat, do not possess the same peaceful demeanor. Fascinating.
Water and hay are both very heavy. My noodle-like arms are very sore.
They have all had their fun, but after three days I think the horses know I am the boss now. I learned that you must take advantage of any opportunity, however small, to boss the horse around.
In a conversation around a tin of left over Christmas cookies and a fresh pot of coffee we discussed a very wealthy Norwegian family, not quite of Kardashian status, but the same idea. One of the daughters flew all of her horses from Oslo to somewhere in Florida for the winter. This digressed into a discussion of money and wealth, fame and society. It ended with the mother of my host saying, “it is nice to be ordinary”.
Luftus the name of this farm, is also the name of a classic Norwegian sweater pattern.