Okay, so now we had a place to move to; selling my stable business in Toronto wouldn’t be a problem because there was any number of jealous bastards already nipping at my heels and trying to wrangle it out of me. I decided to let one of my riding instructors, Jelko Krcmar, take over. He had a backer who was willing to put up the fire sale pittance I was asking for it and I knew he would continue with the sort of programs I had started, at least for a while.
It was a relatively simple process. I gave them everything involved in the business: horses, equipment, the lot, and they gave me a small down payment and some promises.
For some reason Andrea felt that we needed a small vacation before we rolled up our sleeves and tackled the logistics of our big move and we had to wait for the snow to melt in Nova Scotia, so I let her talk me into going to Bermuda for a week or so. Big mistake. I was bored to tears. The only thing that kept me from hopping on a plane and returning home early was a small interest I had developed in the horses on the island.
One day we stopped our mopeds in front of a large hotel and I noticed a large tallyho wagon being pulled by a pair of Belgian mares. There was something about them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on so we sat and watched for a while. Then it dawned on me: “Watch that mare on the off side,” I said, “I bet she walks off a little lame.” Sure enough when the driver moved the team and wagon ahead to let a car in behind them, the horse I was talking about walked with a bit of a hitch in her gate.
I had to know more so I dropped the kickstand on my moped and went over to speak to the driver. “Nice horses, mister,” I directed to the young black man who held the reins. “They sure are; I just love them. The boss imported them from Canada last week,” he replied. “I knew it,” I confided in Andrea as we walked away. “I almost bought those horses at the Kitchener Livestock Sale about a month ago but decided not to because one of them seemed lame.”
I could have bought those same horses at the stockyards for about $200.00 dollars apiece. I found out later that their landed price in Bermuda had been $7000 each so naturally I became interested and spent the rest of my vacation traveling from stable to stable trying to put together some deals on horses and hay imports. It kept me amused for a while but nothing really came of it because I found out that it cost in excess of $5000 to fly a horse from Ontario to the island and more than $ 15.00 dollars a bale for hay and that $20.00 a bale that the locals were buying was probably a bargain.
For some reason Andrea felt that we needed a small vacation before we rolled up our sleeves and tackled the logistics of our big move and we had to wait for the snow to melt in Nova Scotia, so I let her talk me into going to Bermuda for a week or so. Big mistake. I was bored to tears. The only thing that kept me from hopping on a plane and returning home early was a small interest I had developed in the horses on the island.
One day we stopped our mopeds in front of a large hotel and I noticed a large tallyho wagon being pulled by a pair of Belgian mares. There was something about them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on so we sat and watched for a while. Then it dawned on me: “Watch that mare on the off side,” I said, “I bet she walks off a little lame.” Sure enough when the driver moved the team and wagon ahead to let a car in behind them, the horse I was talking about walked with a bit of a hitch in her gate.
I had to know more so I dropped the kickstand on my moped and went over to speak to the driver. “Nice horses, mister,” I directed to the young black man who held the reins. “They sure are; I just love them. The boss imported them from Canada last week,” he replied. “I knew it,” I confided in Andrea as we walked away. “I almost bought those horses at the Kitchener Livestock Sale about a month ago but decided not to because one of them seemed lame.”
I could have bought those same horses at the stockyards for about $200.00 dollars apiece. I found out later that their landed price in Bermuda had been $7000 each so naturally I became interested and spent the rest of my vacation traveling from stable to stable trying to put together some deals on horses and hay imports. It kept me amused for a while but nothing really came of it because I found out that it cost in excess of $5000 to fly a horse from Ontario to the island and more than $ 15.00 dollars a bale for hay and that $20.00 a bale that the locals were buying was probably a bargain.
As our departing plane tipped its wing to give us one last glance at the pink paradise I leaned over to Andrea and whispered, “They can have it!”
