George and I were faced with a problem of access at the well-positioned castle of Platamonas in Pieria. Since the castle is bounded on one side by the Aegean and on the other by the Athens-Thessaloniki arterial road, the only way for us to get there with safety was to follow the old railway line through a tunnel.

It's not a very long tunnel, but it is very uncomfortable to walk along on account of the sharp boot-and-ankle-wrecking stones. If you used the sleepers as stepping stones it was easier. I was worried about George. His feet were already very sore but he amazed me. He used the railway sleepers like stepping stones just as I was doing, which is very hard for a horse - especially in the dark.

When I first bought George I made some feeble attempts to train him. He moves very stylishly, and my intention was that he would be a dressage horse. When George was comfortable carrying a rider I tried to educate him. He had to do various gymnastic exercises such as trotting over poles so he could learn to adjust the length of his stride. George resolutely refused to have anything to do with any of it and, I confess, I gave up.

Now, five years later, I saw that George had secretly understood everything, and had stored the knowledge for use when it had some practical application.

Even though he had used the 'stepping stones' so expertly, it was apparent that George was now very footsore indeed. In addition, his face was covered in horrid suppurating spots. This had happened because George had tangled with ants.

Years ago George had his first experience with ants. They were defending the almond tree on which they lived because George was helping himself to unripe almonds. At first George didn't know what was happening when they attacked. He just knew it hurt, and rushed off to rub the ants off his face by rolling in the grass. He is allergic to ants, so the bites swelled up and itched for days.

Now it seemed that George must have inadvertently disturbed an ants' nest again. I washed all the bites with salt and water and then applied soothing ointment.

I usually enjoy going through villages with George because he is so lovely and some of his glamour rubs off on me. Now every elderly gentleman felt it incumbent upon him to point out that George was lame, and to ask why he was covered in scabs. I explained, defensively, about his having to step on gravel on Olympos and about the ants, but it was clear that everyone thought George was a victim of neglect. George fostered this by doing an impression of the starving, wretched Ginger when Black Beauty sees her for the last time.

It was obvious that we were going to have to rest up for a day or two. We had to find a suitable longterm camp site; either that or go home. I thought the best thing to do was to find a semi-permanent camp so I could take care of George until he was better.

Source : Athens News