Sweden Seals the Deal in Falsterbo

It is a veritable smörgåsbord.

I am looking at the program for the Falsterbo Horse Show, part of the Rolex Equestrian Series, a collection of the world’s best shows. Falsterbo is a town in the southwest of Sweden, situated on a peninsula less than an hour from Copenhagen in Denmark, jutting out from the mainland like the head of a seahorse.

“Can it possibly get better than this?” the Falsterbo Horse Show website asks. A paradise is conjured before me, a place “where world class equestrian sport meets summer, sun, and holiday.”

On the livestream, the assembled spectators sit in ponchos, cringing under a relentless rain.

I sit on the banks of my snow-white down comforter, for I’m once again engaged in remote reportage.

But, despite the rain, and despite the comfort of my comforter, it’s the last thing I want to be doing.

It is not just that I am half-Swedish, the daughter of a fully Swedish father, whose people came over in the mass wave of emigration out of Europe, when some 50 million Europeans headed out, among them 1.3 million Swedes, a large majority settling in the Midwest. They flooded in, making my home state of Minnesota 12% Swedish by the turn of the 20th century and giving Chicago the highest population of Swedish people in the world, aside from Stockholm itself.

No, it’s not an ache for the homeland so much as it is the enticements of this loaded equestrian program, which describes the delights of this, the largest horse sports event in Sweden, with over one thousand horses participating. There is show jumping, of course, but there is also FEI Dressage, young horses from 5-year olds to 7-year olds (and even a 4-year old dressage class), ponies, and carriage driving.

It continues, with such descriptors in the program as “Rabbit Jumping,” “Knight Show,” and “Mounted Games.” There is a Hobby Horse competition, a dog exhibition, a derby, a sixbar! And most enticingly of all, I read “Icelandic Power,” “Final Tölt,” and “Fjord Horse Show”! Oh, yes, to meet these northern native horse breeds, the original horses of the Vikings, is to instantly fetishize them.

My homebound body is twitching with the desire to be elsewhere.

It was over a decade ago when I spent a short week in Sweden. In Stockholm, I partook of an actual smörgåsbord, the one offered at the Grand Hotel. It is a multi-room buffet, which consists mainly of various cold and pickled fish dishes, a seemingly endless variety of them. And while you eat this, you are plied with aquavit and various lagers, so that your body tingles as you eat, looking out the window across the water.

I remember falling in love with a man pictured on the bottle of my “God Lager.” God means good in Swedish and does not refer to the deity, but I, in my inebriated state, instantly developed a worshipful infatuation with the man on the label, whose strong jawline, jaunty hat, and florid mustache had me imagining a life in Scandinavia with him, eating herring by the sea. I cursed my ancestors for having made the move.

But what we are here for, or not there for, is the Agria Nations Cup of Falsterbo. On the livestream, the arena looks beautiful—a wide, green expanse. The seats are filled, despite the rain, and the spectators are outfitted not just with the aforementioned ponchos, but with small Swedish flags, the blue and yellow forming a colorful patchwork.

We have nine nations competing: Argentina, Brazil, Denmark, Great Britain, Ireland, the Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland, and the USA. The course is designed by Frank Rothenberger of Germany, who was just active in Aachen. It consists of 12 obstacles and 15 efforts, with the iconic Rolex standards forming a triple bar and a very charming sailboat-themed water jump.

Although the course seems not-too-tricky, no team exits the first round with a clear score. We have four teams—USA, Ireland, Switzerland, and Sweden—sitting on four, with USA in the lead with the fastest time.

We got fantastic clears from Billy Twomey of Ireland aboard Jumping Jack van de Kalevallei, two of the Swiss, Jason Smith and Romain Duguet, the first to go for Brazil, Joao Victor Castro Aguiar Gomes de Lima, Soren Pederson of Denmark, Swedes Amanda Landeblad and Henrik Von Eckermann with Minute Man, and two from Team USA, Spencer Smith and Karl Cook with that lovely, eager jumper Caracole de la Roque.

The most exciting of the first round clears came from Argentinian Matias Larocca and Patron van de Dweerhoeve. Patron spooked or became confused, and headed, after the triple, in the wrong direction. Were it luck or skill, but Larocca put him back on course and finished with nary a fault, not even one of time!

But that was the last luck Argentina would have, having started with an uninspiring 12-fault round, adding a retirement in the third leg and another four faults in the fourth, for a total of 16, which, with a slower time, put them in 9th place behind Great Britain, also on 16, and eliminated them from the competition.

With so many teams locked in at the same score, Round Two was a highly anticipated one. But first we must be entertained at length by a marching band, who played enthusiastically for the crowd in the still-pouring rain, trudging around the wet field.

Great Britain, as the first team to go, started out with an improved score from Joe Stockdale and his partner Ebanking. In fact, there was not a rider-horse combination on that team that did not improve, turning a 16-fault score from the first round into a mere 4-fault score in the second, putting them ultimately into 5th place. It was not the first time this observer has been impressed by the fighting spirit of the Brits in team competition. They remind us all of that eternal Churchill quote, delivered during War World II: “Never give in, never, never, never, never—”

The Netherlands, on the other hand, took a mediocre placing and made it worse with a refusal and an unfortunate horse-and-rider spill at the double. They were eliminated and placed 8th.

Denmark managed to rack up an extraordinary number of faults in the second round—42!—edging out the Netherlands only in that they managed to finish. Brazil put themselves into 6th with a 16-fault second round.

That left the top four, 4-fault teams to duke it out for the win. Ireland, after a double clear from Twomey as well as a double clear from teammate Trevor Breen, unfortunately ended on a 4-fault score, when two of their riders both knocked a rail.

So we had the Swiss, the Swedes, and Team USA heading into the last leg on drop-score 4-faults, leaving no room for anything but clear rounds to declare a winner.

First up was Sweden and they had a closer if anyone did: former forever-at-the-top World Number One Henrik Von Eckermann and Minute Man. The crowd was alive with their fluttering little blue-and-yellow flags. The round was clear and the round was good, leaving Sweden on a clear second-round-score, with a 4-fault score overall.

Next came Switzerland, who also put up an impressive closer: World Number 6 Steve Guerdat and his mount Venard de Cerisy. Unfortunately for the Swiss, Venard stuck a foot in the water and topped it off with another rail, putting the Swiss on 8 faults and into 4th, behind Ireland.

So there we were and there I was, twitching and twisting in my bed, balanced between my American self and the home country of my ancestors, when the closer of all closers entered the ring. The livestream camera caught Von Eckermann flinging himself off his horse after his cool-down and running to the ring, to see what would transpire.

The closer of all closers: McLain Ward. He was aboard High Star Hero, who had spent the summer racking up wins, although mostly in lower-height speed classes. Spencer Smith had already given Team USA a double-clear score as well as Karl Cook and Caracole, who looked absolutely fantastic and in her element, easily sliding cleanly over the poles with the fastest time.

But, in a shocking twist, so used as we are to seeing McLain succeed, High Star Hero knocked a pole, sending the home-town team to the top of the podium. Team USA held on to second, thanks to the quick round provided by High Star Hero and the even-quicker round executed by Caracole.

That put Team Ireland into third, rounding out the podium finishers.

And the rain came down and the crowd celebrated and I vowed never to engage in remote reportage ever again with such delights at hand. And to meet up with Nils, handsome man of my lager label, next year while eating herring by the sea. Skål!