All language subtitles for The.Long.Rider.2022.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX].eng

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Where those flags
are on the horizon...

that's Barretos,
that's the rodeo grounds.

It's like a mirage!

I can't believe we're here!

A-ha!

Oh, thank you!

Ah!

Oh, man...

I can't believe we made it!

Oh, thank you.

Thank you, thank you.

Thank you.

There is a common phrase
in our world that goes,

"The dog may be man's best friend,

"but the horse
helped write history."

Everything we have today
and we enjoy in modern society

was built on the back of a horse.

They were the first animals
brought to the New World

to plough our fields, to go to war for us,

to carry us to the West
and find new fertile lands.

And according to both fossil
records and oral traditions,

horses were also an active part
of Indigenous culture

across the Americas
even before settlers arrived.

I've lived so intensely
beside these majestic animals.

Travelling, eating with them,
sleeping next to them,

living great adventures
next to them.

And the horse
has been in my life...

since I was born.

My name is Filipe because
it means "a friend of horses,"

and I was on top of a horse
before I could walk.

My earliest memory of a horse
is a near tragedy.

I'm seven years old,
I'm on a big, grey mare;

My dad had put me
in an equestrian program

to learn how to jump.

The coach had taken us out
on a field to gallop the horses,

and I lost the grey mare.

And she was just galloping,

galloping, galloping.

I remember at that moment,

being on that runaway horse,
I was so scared,

but at the same time,
the adrenaline I felt,

I kinda wished that mare
would just keep running forever.

I was born in a small town

called Espírito Santo do Pinhal
in Saão Paulo, Brazil.

I grew up on a small farm.

My first horse was called Marto Lipe.

We couldn't ride the thing
because it was a wild horse;

It was absolutely crazy,

but I remember that just
to look at it and be around it,

you know, it just made me so happy.

When I was nine years old,

my life changed dramatically.

My parents moved to Canada.

I remember when my dad told me
"So, we're moving to Canada!"

I was like...

I didn't even know what Canada was!

I look back
at that moment of my life

where at nine
I moved countries...

It was the first moment that
I had to face real adversity.

The horse
completely left my life

for the first few years
that we were here.

We just didn't have the means.

When I was a little kid,
I was the most scared child

on the face of the earth,

and when my dad turned
the lights off in my room,

I would cry.

I was afraid of the dark,

I thought the boogeyman
was under my bed.

My dad would come into my room;

He would tell me
the story of Aimé Tschiffely,

a Swiss school teacher
who in 1925

rode horseback from
Buenos Aires, Argentina,

all the way to the United States.

He would use that story to show me

that Tschiffely wasn't afraid.

Tschiffely crossed the Americas
with his horses Mancha and Gato.

He climbed the highest mountains,

swam rivers full of crocodiles.

And I remember just imagining
what it would be like to cross

all these countries on horseback,

and it just became my life's dream.

There's this innate want
and desire in me to wander.

Ultimately, every cell in my body

was telling me to get on
that horse and ride home.

It just got stronger
and stronger the older I got.

A long rider
is an individual that rides

a thousand miles or more in a journey.

Oscar Wilde is a long rider.

Marco Polo.
Charles Darwin.

And there's an international
organization called

The Long Riders Guild

that shares all these stories
of people who have

jumped into the saddle

and ridden off into the unknown.

The Long Riders
Guild was the world's first

international association
of equestrian explorers.

It has members in 48 countries.

More than 100 of the
long riders are fellows

of the World Geographical Society

because of the extraordinary
journeys that they made.

I've answered emails for more
than 20 years from people

in every country from Albania to Yemen.

What's important to note is that
when people are confronted

with the reality,

not the romance, of equestrian travel,

then they're forced to see

how difficult and potentially
dangerous and hard it is.

That's why 95 percent of the people

who have ever written me
never set off.

To prepare for this journey,

I spent two years in a war room.

I had to lose weight;
I had to build my core.

Make contacts, draw the route,

reading as much literature
as I could.

Just convincing that
a 20-something-year-old kid

who had no previous experience long riding

could pull off one of the longest

and most arduous rides
of the 21st century.

To be honest with you,
when Filipe came to me

and told me he was gonna
do Canada to Brazil,

I didn't believe.

I said, "Wow, he's gonna say that,

"but after one month or two,

"trying to get everything together,

"he's gonna just
forget about it."

Like, what are you
leaving in Calgary?

I'm not leaving
anything in Calgary.

You're not?

No.
Everything I'm taking now,

I'm gonna take with me on the trip.

Emma and I, we met in university.

She always encouraged me to take risks,

even though it meant that, you know,

I wasn't going to see her while
I was training for my ride.

My plan is to ride from Calgary, Canada,

to my family's home

in Espírito Santo do Pinhal,
Brazil.

Right now the weather is warm,

but winter is going to
creep up on us very quickly,

and I have got to make it
to Mexico by then,

or the whole journey is screwed.

My dad is thinking about
riding with me through Mexico,

and my mom may come out
at some point in Latin America.

But for the most part,
I'll be going alone.

Crossing the Panama Canal
will be a major issue,

but I know that by the time we
get there, we'll figure it out.

Then I ride through Colombia,
and make it to Brazil.

At our pace,

I think it's gonna take
about two years to get home.

We're at the Greyhound
bus station in Toronto.

I should be getting on the bus
at 12:15 and going to Saskatoon.

I get to Saskatoon for 5 o'clock
in the morning tomorrow.

Filipe was
facing two major obstacles,

tactical and political.

Even though Filipe had
an intense equestrian background

and was a skilled rider,

he did not know anything
about horseback packing,

pack horses, or pack saddles.

So I contacted Canadian
long rider Stan Walchuk,

who is the expert in that topic,

and Stan not only
offered to mentor Filipe,

he invited him
to come to British Colombia,

where he took him
under his wing and taught him

everything about horse packing.

My background is different
from a lot of horse people

in that I've been able to learn

from lots of different people
over the years.

And I've taken ideas and been
with many different people

and tried to collect them all,

and look at what works
and doesn't work.

Take these,
walk up to the horse...

Just kinda clip on,

clip it on there.

Walk it around.

Pull really hard on the front corner.

What will happen is that the
horse will maybe struggle a bit.

It will just stand there
because it knows

that rope is the absolute boss.

Then I started making
lists, everything I needed,

from the horses, paperwork,

saddle, pack saddle,

horseshoes, equipment,

tent, a one-burner oven...

Everything.
The planning was tremendous.

I didn't have the budget
to undertake this journey,

so during the planning stage,
I sent out hundreds of emails.

I sent letters,
called different ranchers,

until finally two ranchers
in Montana

agreed to give me Frenchie
and Bruiser for the journey.

This is my man
Frenchie over here,

and Bruiser on the other side.

Now, Frenchie's been okay.

He's been pretty good, but he's
really nervous about everything,

so we're trying to take things
really slowly with him.

I started working on the horses

with putting the
pack saddle on Frenchie

and putting some weight on it
and getting him used to it.

At one point he completely
freaked out, started bucking,

and I lost a hold of the rope,

and then he scared Bruiser,

and Bruiser started bucking
and threw me off.

I got a huge slit in my pants,
I think my finger's broken,

rope burn...

So I'm a little freaked out.
I don't have that much time.

Leaving from Calgary
put me on top of Montana,

Wyoming, Colorado, horse country.

A lot less people in population,

which makes the ride a lot easier.

The Calgary Stampede
is Canada's largest rodeo,

and it's internationally
renowned in Western culture.

I was lucky they agreed
to give me a send-off

to begin my journey south.

It is 10:40 right now,

and we leave in 20 minutes.

So it's crunch time.

Crunch, crunch.

I've been training for this
moment since I was a little kid,

since the first time I heard
the story of Aimé Tschiffely,

riding from Buenos Aires
to New York.

It's been, you know,
a crazy year.

Just getting people to
believe that this could happen,

just to be here for me
is already a huge win.

To be with these beautiful horses

and living my dream.

You know, I think more people
need to not be scared to

do what they love
and follow their dreams,

'cause we're in a society today
where everyone's so scared

to do things, to think outside
the box, and it's really sad.

You gotta go for what you believe,

because when you do,
it's like...

what I'm feeling right now,

there's no other feeling
like this, you know?

And my mom is
very worried, obviously.

She's a mother, so...

she said she's gonna
have to take some sedatives

for the next two years
to try to sleep at night.

But it just feels right,
you know?

We're a family that we move
on instinct, we move on feeling,

and if it felt wrong, I wouldn't do it.

I'm gonna go soon, alright?

I'm gonna be worried about you.

I'm okay.
I'm gonna be fine.

We're gonna talk, okay?
I'm gonna be fine.

Don't be worried about me.

You know I'm gonna figure it out, right?

Although she knew
that this was gonna

drive me away from her,
it was gonna drive us apart,

she never told me not to do it,

which now, looking back,
how selfless is that?

I love you.

I'll see you soon, okay?
Don't be sad.

I felt like I had a bowling ball

lodged in my throat.

I was just swallowing...
swallowing the fear back.

I was very scared.

Very scared.

Every equestrian
journey is different.

During my solo ride
across Northern Pakistan,

I was kidnapped, tortured,

falsely imprisoned,

and nearly died of hepatitis.

In contrast,

the British explorers who tried
to reach the South Pole in 1911,

their horses were eaten by Orca whales.

Of course, there's always
the traditional challenges

of mountains, jungles, swamps,

disease-carrying insects,

carnivorous beasts,

and very dangerous human beings.

It was a million degrees.

I'm already thinking,

"Why did I decide
to leave in July?"

No shade,
we're next to this road,

and all of a sudden I realized
I forgot to bring water.

Are you kidding me?

Are you the guy
who's riding to South America?

Yeah!

Well, good luck, man!

I travelled
three kilometres an hour,

30 kilometres a day.

You know, that's the max you can
ride a day for these horses,

so you're always in the middle of nowhere.

So usually you just knock
on a door and ask for help.

Like, who does that these days,
you know what I mean?

And I knocked on these people's door,

and they came out and they were like,

"... Yes?" and I have two
horses with me, I'm like,

"Oh, hi, my name is Filipe,

"I'm riding horses from Canada to Brazil,

"and I was wondering if
I could spend the night here?"

And they were like...

So I just
set up camp in their field.

I wake up and Bruiser

had bit Frenchie's back
right where the pack sits.

I couldn't put the pack on
because if I put the pack on

it was gonna start rubbing it

and it was gonna create a wound

and it was gonna slowly
become worse and worse.

But I had no choice; I had to pack him.

I could notice the discomfort.

I take the pack saddle off
and sure enough,

it had rubbed the wound
and now it was inflated.

If I keep going like this,
it's only gonna get worse.

I'm gonna have to stop a car

and see if someone can take
the pack to the next town,

and then I'll just figure it out
when I get there.

I heard about you through my mom

when I was going to the Stampede,

that you were going to Brazil on a horse,

and I'm a horse-lover
myself, so yeah,

just this one day you were
passing through the reserve

and I seen you
and I thought I'd help you.

Right now I'm dispatching
for the Blood Tribe police.

I'm actually just
waiting to go to Depot,

and then I'll come back and be
a police officer on the reserve,

you know, where I can help my own people.

I'd like to give you
this for your travels

so you'll always be protected.

Sharlee took me to meet
one of the Blood Tribe's elders.

She gave me some sweet grass

so I could burn and protect me

because I was very nervous
to cross the American border.

She saw that I was nervous,
she's like,

"Alright, you burn it,

"you smother yourself with the smoke,

"and you pray to your God

"and ask for your God
to protect you."

When we first came to Canada,

my dad had a work permit

and he renewed that work
permit for eight years.

On year number eight,
the work permit got denied,

and we were asked
to leave Canada in 15 days.

We went to this immigration centre,

we talked to them through
a Plexiglas window,

and just the way this woman,
like, talked to us,

it was like we had...
stolen or killed.

Just treated us like garbage.

And I remember at one point,
like, I was just bawling,

and this woman did not blink an eye.

Like, it was just
almost like that Plexiglas

had her in another world

where hearts and compassion
doesn't exist.

So my dad, in a panic,
hired a lawyer,

got some bad advice,

and the lawyer told him to
apply for humanitarian reasons

so that we could remain here.

That took two years,

in which time I started university,

and after my first year
of university,

we got a letter saying,

"Denied.

"You have 15 days to
leave the country again."

Well, with my immigration history,

and the fact that I'm a Brazilian kid

riding two horses,

I was so nervous
coming up to the US border.

It ended up
being the easiest border

of the entire trip.

We've just arrived in the US,

I'm on my way to bad Montana,

and it's just extremely hot.

It's so hot.

I've been walking
for, like, maybe 10 miles,

to give the horses a break.

Oh, it's the first shade
I've found,

and it feels good to be here.

Once we entered Montana,

we found ourselves in the worst drought

the US had had in a generation.

Come on, buddy, please.

And that made my life
and the horses' life just hell.

So here's a stream behind me
that was once flowing

with water,
and today it's just bone-dry.

You can even walk right in it
and walk right under the bridge.

And this is real sad
because a lot of farmers

depend on these creeks to farm
and to water their crops.

Finding water for these animals

became such a huge problem.

You only eat after
your horses have eaten.

You only drink after they've
had something to drink.

And you only rest when your
horses are resting and happy.

So, we rested for a couple days

at Copper Spring Ranch,

which is Bruiser's original home,

before I made my way through
the bad country of Yellowstone.

- It's hot.
- Bacon and eggs at 5:30.

In Tschiffely's Ride,

there is a beautiful black and white photo

of him crossing a suspension
bridge with Gato in Bolivia.

It was the first time where I was like,

"Holy shit, I'm doing this."

Here I was,
feeling the bridge sway,

you know, hearing
the river underneath us.

Wow!

That's a nice view.

You could just see
how strong these animals are.

Sometimes, like, we couldn't
even climb up the mountain;

We'd be holding on their tails

and they'd be pulling us up.

On our last river crossing
in Yellowstone,

Frenchie ended up
hurting his stifle really bad,

which forced us
to haul the horses back

to Copper Spring Ranch

so we could figure out
what to do next.

Frenchie was
the Dwayne Johnson of the group.

Super strong,
that horse is so good-looking,

but at the same time, he was just a mess.

He loved to eat;
He would fart all the time;

He snored while he slept.

He was the comedic relief.

So, Copper Spring Ranch,

they're gonna lend me two other horses

so I can take them
on the trip and continue

while these guys
rest up and get better.

I knew all along that was gonna
be one of the hardest parts

of this trip, was my horses' health,

especially going through mountains

like we did in Yellowstone.

But luckily I can give them the time off

and not push them
and hurt them even more.

That's the most important part.

After travelling for
weeks with these horses,

it was very disheartening
to have to train new horses...

and worse, leave one of my kids,
Frenchie, behind.

What you have to remember is

that horses are natural nomads.

Wild horses travel

20, 30, 40 miles a day

in search of grass and water.

So, when you take a horse
and you take a human,

like Frenchie and Filipe,

and you put them together,

and you aim them
in the same direction every day,

a new herd ethic develops.

So, in exchange for transportation,

the horse gives
unquestioning loyalty and love.

Filipe's emotional bond
with his horses

is so deep that it's affected
his life forever.

Kids ask me all the time,

"How do you go
to the bathroom?",

"What do you carry
in your pack saddle?",

and "How do you shower?"

Of course I tell them I don't shower,

at which point they all wanna sign up

and go with me on this journey.

Woo!

In Wyoming I got
this really cool experience

as a cowboy
to work in a cattle ranch.

And before I left,

the rancher Maryl was like,
"You know what?

"A trip like yours could
really use a third horse."

His name is Texas.

A really nice rancher here in Wyoming

has offered to donate him
so I can have three horses

and alternate which one I ride,
which one I pack,

so one horse is always
getting a break every day.

It's an amazing offer,
and we'll see how he does.

When I was crossing from
Southern Wyoming into Colorado,

I crossed this huge mountain.

I was by myself for five days.

When I came down from that mountain,

I came to a town called Savery.

You know those sci-fi movies

where you come back to Earth
and everyone's gone?

That's what it felt like.

Riding around this town,
there was no one.

And then the sign literally said,

"Savery, population: 25."

I met this elderly fellow.

He was a very lonely man,
you could tell very quickly,

living by himself.

His name was Sam.

My dad was born here.

I was born in Dickson,
four miles away.

Took me 78 years to go 4 miles;

That's not very good mileage.

The only thing
he said to me, Sam, was,

"Whatever you do,

"you don't ride across
the million-dollar highway."

But the problem is that
we needed to get south quick

because of the winter.

The winter in northern US
could have stopped the trip.

In the morning, the horses'
buckets were freezing.

It got to the point where,
a couple weeks later,

the only thing I could do

was cross
the million-dollar highway.

I go to the tourists' office

to ask what they think
the best time to do it is.

She's like, "No, no, no,
you can't, it's too dangerous!"

Like, "The turns are too tight;
There's no guardrail."

I was like, "No, no, I'm not
trailing them, I'm riding them."

She's like, "You're what?!"

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,

we're just outside of Ouray,

about to get on
the million-dollar highway

headed over to Silverton.

It's gonna be a very
scary part of the trip:

11,000 feet, very narrow roads,

and a lot of cars.

So that's why we're leaving so early.

Let's go.
Come on.

We start in pitch black.

And all I can see is that
there's a huge drop to my right,

but I can't see how far it goes.

Then when the sun starts coming up,

I actually see what's around me,

and it's just so scary.

It's literally just like a drop.

There's a rock face here,
and abyss here,

so if my horses get scared,
they're gonna run for the abyss

and I need to jump off
and try to survive.

We start climbing.

It's so quiet and so cold.

There's very few cars,
but every time a car goes by,

we're just like holding our breath,

and the horses are okay.

I finally got over
the million-dollar highway pass,

but the Colorado winter was
quickly creeping up on me.

We're like at seven, eight
thousand feet here,

so we're still in the high country

and they're calling for snow tonight.

I'm just excited
to get off this mountain.

It's freezing.

Gonna give the horses something to eat now.

After three more days of
riding through these mountains,

I was able to get to lower
ground where it warmed up.

I remember
from my backpacking days

that there was a website
called Couchsurfing.

And sure enough, there was a guy there

from Southern Colorado
called Peter Lisker.

I messaged him, he messaged me
back right away;

He's like, "Yeah, for sure,
you can stay at my house."

Really nice fellow.

I think he only wore Hawaiian shirts.

Before I left his house,
I noticed that he was like...

kinda weird?

My sister Naomi was beautiful.

She was intelligent, witty,

very strong-willed,

and she loved horses.

She passed away in March.

This is pretty much
what I've got left of her.

She would be thrilled to
be going for one last ride.

So, this is Naomi.

I'm gonna take her on one last ride,

and hopefully she'll be able
to make it all the way

to Brazil with me.

Gonna put her in the pack saddle,

and I should be
sharing this journey with her

because she was very
passionate about horses,

so we have something in common.

To Naomi, I'll just say,

"Happy trails,
and until we meet again."

The life of a lonely long rider.

Being alone, it's kinda like

having a little pebble in your boot.

You're not gonna get down.

You're tired,
you're gonna keep riding,

and that pebble starts to grow,

and it's all you can think about.

Now you're playing with it,
and you're moving it around.

And the pebble becomes a boulder.

And the pain is there,
but you're trying to hide it

with other things, but you can't
stop thinking about the pebble.

Loneliness is like that.

It just engulfs you.

The deepest scars I have in my soul

came from all that time
that I spent alone.

Whoa, whoa!

It's the perfect
recipe for craziness.

We need fucking water!

You have to literally live it...

Fuck!

...and
feel that solitude

pressing against your skin,

and that's the only way that
you can really understand

what impact being out there by yourself

for such long periods of time can have

on a human being, on a long rider.

Another big lesson from this trip

is that life is meant to be shared.

It could be the most beautiful, colourful,

epic sunset in the world,

but when you're
eating your ramen noodles,

sitting on top of your
panniers by yourself,

it just doesn't seem as colourful

as when you're
sharing it with someone.

Riding from Bernalillo
out of Albuquerque today.

I got Emma with me.

How's it going back there?

It's awesome!

So, having Emma come
out to meet me in New Mexico

was amazing.

Emma, what happened this
morning with you and Texas here?

Got on the horse,

started to walk away out of the driveway,

and got bucked off.

She's officially a cowgirl now.

I'm proud of you.

You stayed on really... oh,
I was so scared when I saw.

And luckily, I was
able to get Frenchie back

after his month of resting.

It was a beautiful day.

Came to a locked gate
on the trail we were following,

and because it was gonna
take so long to go back,

I started looking for alternatives,

and I saw this field that would
take me back to the trail,

so I thought,
"Hey, I could just ride across."

It had some tall weeds on it.

A few metres into this field...

Fuck!

Bruiser's stuck
in a big hole behind me.

I'm gonna try and get him out.

I...
I didn't see this.

The grass is really deep.

He freaked out
and tried to turn around,

but it all happened so quickly.

Come on, buddy.

- Careful!
- Come on!

Ready?

One, two, three.

Come on, buddy.

Come on, come on!

Come on, Bruiser, come on.

Come on!

Fuck!

My heart was
trying to punch its way

out of my ribcage, you know?

Come on, buddy!
Come on, come on, Bruiser!

- Come on, buddy!
- Come on!

You're okay, buddy.

You're okay.
Gonna get you out of here.

I managed to wiggle him around,

took the saddle off
to lighten up the load,

I dug the ditch a little bit,
and then I jumped out and said,

"Alright, Bruiser,
I'm gonna count to three,

"and on three,
you jump out of there."

Oh, yes!

Luckily, he was okay.

Didn't hurt himself, miraculously.

Well, he was riding down
the bar ditch going through 85

and I passed him when I was
going to work that morning,

and then when
I come back that evening

I stopped and talked to him.

We passed another man right up
the road here a while ago

on a bicycle.

I didn't stop to talk to him.

He didn't have a horse!

We didn't have anything
in common to talk about.

We're in the middle
of nowhere in Texas,

and all of a sudden, I see hanging

on this barbed wire fence,

there's all these laminated
pages with photos on them.

We meet Neta,
an animal rights advocate.

She tells me that a couple days
earlier she saw me riding,

pulled out her camera,
and takes this beautiful photo.

We met and she showed me
the photograph

and told me
the story about the wall.

He was in a feedlot

and the investigator said he kept watching

for his owner
to come back and get him.

And then he ended up killed by.

And that's the Wall of Hope,

which she started to tell
the story of how horses

can have an impact
and change people's lives.

More than 90,000 horses already
this year have been taken down

to Mexico for slaughter,

but the problem is that the manner

in which these horses are transported

and handled are very inhumane.

It makes me sad that I'm, you know,

riding the same way
that these thousands of horses

are being taken to be
slaughtered in Mexico.

But this is a really cool initiative

so people remember them.

Are you excited to
go home for a little while?

Excited, no.

But, you know, you have
a two-year journey,

so I have all kinds of time
to meet you again.

Today is kind of a happy day,

but also a little bit of sadness.

I'm saying goodbye to Texas.

He's just not as big or strong
as Frenchie and Bruiser,

so I'm trading him out
for a new horse, a mustang.

He's a native American
wild horse,

which is even cooler for me

because there's just so much history there.

I'm so happy to have Dude.

When Tschiffely went on his
ride, he took two Criollos,

the wild horses of South America.

He would say how important that was,

that these horses
had that wild instinct,

how important it was for their survival.

When Canadians
and Americans would tell me,

"You're gonna cross Mexico on a horse?

"You're gonna die," I would ask them,

"Have you ever been to Mexico?"

And each time, they replied no.

But then, as I got into
the southern part of the US,

every Mexican family I met,

they told me I was
gonna be killed in Mexico.

I was forced to wait at
the border at a cattle stockyard

where the slaughter horses
stay before entering Mexico.

My horses did not feel
comfortable there

the entire time.

It was as if they could smell the fear.

You can only legally take
two horses into Mexico.

Dude was actually ridden across
by a kid named Jesus.

I put him into Jesus's hand,

and he took
the horse in 15 minutes

and he's like, "Yup!
Dude is in Mexico!"

And then the other two horses,
because they were going legally,

it's paperwork, it's the vet,
and you call, you do this,

you do that...

After two weeks, I finally
got the horses into Mexico

and my dad was waiting for me
on the other side in Ojinaga.

Day one in Mexico!

We're headed towards Jimenez.

We'll probably be there...
I don't even know, ten days,

seven days.
Only God knows.

My dad was gonna ride with me

through the northern part of Mexico.

- How you feeling?
- I feel good.

First day, not too tired.

And, I don't know,

let's see by the end of the week,

I can tell you better.

This was my dad's dream
way before it was my own.

My dad learned of the story
of Aimé Tschiffely

when he was a young kid.

In a way, I was living
the dream for the both of us.

Right now,
I'm just missing my shower.

I'd love to have a shower now
and get a nice bath,

but that's how it is.

Crossing the Chihuahua desert,

that's where 90 percent
of the drugs that go from

South America through
that corridor in Central America

and Mexico into the US and Canada,

so it's a very dangerous place.

On the first day
we're riding in Mexico,

we were interrogated by the police.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry,
we're riding horses to Brazil!"

"What's in the pack saddle?"
We tell them.

They calmed down.
They were horsemen themselves.

I heard a couple of them talking, like,

which horse they liked better.

They let us go.

At night time,
we were pitching our tent

in the middle of nowhere.

We didn't know if this was a route that

the drug traffickers were
gonna be coming through;

We didn't know if someone
was gonna take us hostage...

or kill us.

My dad and I had a long talk
about how we cannot accept

any help from anyone that's
working with the drug traffic.

My dad makes it very clear
that's the number one rule.

That afternoon,
we get to a little village.

It's like -3 outside,

and this guy's got
a house with heaters in it.

The number one rule went
straight out the window.

We slept at his house.

My dad's gone ahead
to see if we can find a place,

if there's a ranch or something up there.

It was really late,
and I was tired,

and I left the panniers
inside where I put the horses.

Alright, going to sleep.

Hope for the best.

When I woke up in the morning
and unzipped my tent,

Frenchie had
knocked over the panniers

with Naomi's ashes.

And now he was eating
Naomi's ashes, and I'm like,

"Oh my God."

I get Frenchie off the ashes,
put the ashes back,

say a "Hail Mary," apologize to Naomi.

We, as sons, we have
a hard time with our fathers.

I think because
we're so similar to them.

My dad and I were
in the middle of this desert,

and one day we're
talking about Palominos.

One guy said Palomino was just a colour,

the other guy said Palomino
was a colour and a breed,

and we had this, like,
tempestuous fight.

Like, it all blew up

and we didn't talk to each other all day.

It's crazy how when
you're suffering so much

and you're out there
and there's so much unknown,

how something so little and minute

as a horse or a breed can become

this epic battle.

No one celebrated
the journey like the Mexicans.

Every town we rode into,
people just started showing up.

Some days we'd have
five people riding with us.

Some days seven.

And one day, we had a thousand
horsemen and women

saddle their horses and ride with us.

To see that many animals,

that many horse
people together...

May God our father

and the holy spirit watch over you.

It's funny,
here they turned my trip into

a trip for peace, and I understand it

because the people
are so desperate for it,

and they need some hope.

And if I can give them
a little bit, then that's cool.

It's just amazing.
I don't even know what to say.

I can't say thank you
enough for the cabalgantes

here from Rio Grande,

gave us these really nice shirts,

and have welcomed us like family here.

It's been like that all over Mexico.

It's so nice.

Today, I am feeling
that I have 100 pounds

over my shoulders.

My dad was a champion.

At his age, to become
a long rider, you know,

he rode more than
1,000 miles consecutively.

It was amazing.

My dad is very religious.

He had cancer, and he truly believes

that it was his prayers
that cured him.

It was very important
for him to finish the journey

at the Basilica of Guadalupe
to thank her.

He thanked the saints for keeping us safe,

and asked her to continue
to watch over me,

as I had more than half
of the journey still ahead.

I guess once he was with me

and he saw what the journey was,

he realized how dangerous
it was for his son

and that I may not make it to Brazil.

When people think about
what I do, it becomes romantic.

It's a guy on a horse
galloping through the jungle

or in the woods, in the mountain
tops, and the birds...

There were so many close calls.

It's the worst!
Fuck.

There was points
where I was riding these horses

on roads where if stuck out my arm

those trucks would have hit me.

Holy fuck.

Aimé Tschiffely gets to Texas,

and he shuts the trip down
because of the car traffic.

A car actually almost
hits one of his horses

and he gets so aggravated
and so scared of the traffic

in 1928 at this point,

he says, "No, no, I'm pulling the plug.

"I'm trailing
the rest of the way."

I'm just so happy
I came out of that alive.

Thank you, baby Jesus.

Wow.

Southern Mexico,

that's when
the suffering got real.

Torrential downpour right now.

Luckily,
I found a restaurant here

that let me tie the horses up
and put my tent...

Alright, so...

today was possibly

the worst day of my life.

One second is all it takes.

Oh, God...

I was inside the restaurant,

talking to the people who ran the place,

and all of a sudden
the guy I was talking to said,

"Hey, man..."
he said,

"Your horse
is going on the road."

And I turned around and I saw Frenchie

walking around on the highway,

and I ran out of the door
and I ran towards him,

and before I could even get close,

I saw a car,

I saw a truck...

Frenchie's
just been hit by a car.

It's the worst moment of the trip so far.

He fell on top of the hood,

and then fell on the ground.

There were sparks
from his shoes...

the crunching of the hood...

the sound of the car braking...

him scrambling getting back up,
and then he ran towards traffic,

and there was
tractor trailers coming.

And I ran after him,
and I didn't want to...

I didn't know what to do.

I almost got hit by a truck.

And then the guy that hit him
wanted to charge me

for the damage.
He wanted so much money.

And he wanted to call the cops.

Luckily,
I had just met these charros,

and they gave me their number
literally like 15 minutes

before this all happened.

And I called them,

and they came and helped me
with their trailer.

They brought me to their ranch,
the vet checked Frenchie out,

stitched his lip, which was cut.

His back leg looks pretty bad.

I don't know what's gonna happen now.

Hopefully he'll be okay.

Wow.

I spent one month with Frenchie,

treating him, feeding him.

He was very scared.

This was a very important moment
of the trip where I learned

that you need to be on top of your horses

all day every day.

When I left Canada, I was an atheist.

I saw the bad side of religion, you know?

I felt that religion started wars;

I felt that religion separated people.

But I tell you what, my friend.

When you think you're gonna die

or you think your animals are gonna die,

or your kids...

you pray.

And today I believe in God.

I don't know what it is,
who it is.

I do feel like now going through
everything I went through,

there has to be something bigger.

There has to be something out there.

The Long Riders Guild maintains

the world's strictest code
of equestrian ethics,

and Filipe
is an excellent example

of how a long rider

maintains his ethics.

He always put
the welfare of his horses

before his own ego.

Frenchie gets very curious

when you start eating in front of him.

Tomorrow, if all goes well,

we'll be going into Guatemala

and hopefully breaking
through this next barrier,

which is going through
Central America.

Hopefully it's gonna give us
some life, give me some life,

because right now it's a little
bit of a mental struggle.

For sure, it's tough.

Based on my experience with Mexico

and speaking to different people,

I knew it was going to be
impossible to cross the borders

through Central America legally.

There are viruses that exist,
let's say, in Brazil,

that don't exist here.

So, in order for those viruses
not to spread across borders,

there are a lot of requirements
and laws and quarantine

and exams that need to be done,

every time you cross a border with a horse.

And a lot of these countries
don't even have regulations

when you get to the border.

They don't have a form to give you.

You're a guy with three horses

and they see that as an opportunity.

So I started crossing
all of the borders illegally.

They have literally the border,
and then right next to it

they have this little path
where they cross cocaine,

weapons, whatever you want.

At the first border of Mexico/Guatemala

I gave the horses to a guy,

walked over with my boots and my spurs

and horse hairs all over me
to the actual border.

The guy stamped my passport,
didn't ask anything.

I went like 50 metres down,

my horses came out of the jungle,

and I continued on.

The first town I got to,
La Libertad,

this guy's like, "Hey!
Come, there's been an accident."

There was
a rooster and a chicken

in the middle of the road.

There was a guy bleeding to death.

Spectators here talking as if
they're watching a soccer game.

And then I couldn't piece
it together, I'm like,

"Why is there
a rooster and a chicken

"in the middle of the road?"

And then when I asked him,
he's like,

"He stole that chicken
and that rooster.

"That's why they killed him."

And you start to understand
what a life is worth

in Central America.

In Latin America, they tend to
use corn to feed horses

because it's cheaper than buying feed.

But you have to slowly
build it up to them;

You can't just go there one day
and give them corn,

like this rancher did
in northern Guatemala.

Alright, so right now
I'm really worried.

Bruiser hasn't gone
to the bathroom all day.

He's wanting to lay down.

I've had to get him up
like three times already.

So he could be collicking.

I think he's collicking,
I don't know.

Colic happens when
a horse eats something

differently, very quickly,
or when they don't have water.

I'm starting to get really worried.

This is a serious problem.

Because horses can't vomit,

they start to build up these
gases in their stomach.

If their tummy hurts, they'll start to roll

until the point
where they can't take it.

I hate to think about it,

but a lot of horses have died from colic.

So I called the
vet clinic and they said

they have some medication there.

I'm gonna go over there
and buy it.

A few minutes after, thank God,

he went to the bathroom.
I was getting so worried.

Good job, buddy.

Bruiser is just this beautiful,

slick, 007 of the group.

Super smart.
A horse fit for a king.

That horse understood me so well.

You just didn't have to tell
him, he just read your mind.

And he was just so beautiful.

He moved so elegantly.

In southern Guatemala,
I was put in touch with

the boss of the region

to get safe passage into Honduras.

When I started the track here,
I started filming,

and a kid came up to me
and was like, I don't know,

17 years old; He's like,
"Be careful, man,

"don't film a lot here because
the DEA has been coming in here

"to look for a really big boss
of the narcotráficu

"and people might
think that you're a spy

"or you're filming for them."

So he said, "If someone
asks what you're doing,

"just tell them
you're a singer."

And I'm like, "What if
they ask me to sing?"

"Are you nuts?
I'll get shot on the spot!"

It's impossible to ride.

It's so hard to get up
this fucking mountain.

We finally
get to the village where

my very powerful host was waiting for me.

He lived in a mansion,
but it was really hard to film

because I did not feel safe.

He was drinking a beer
and he tossed me a can,

and I grabbed it
and he goes, "Llegaste,"

- and I couldn't even talk.
- I was like...

And I looked at the beer,
it was a blue can,

and it was called Salva Vida.

"Life saver."

He had his own zoo.

And along with his men...

They rode with me
and kept me safe

through northern Honduras.

Very few people get the opportunity

to break bread with cartel members.

You know, your skin colour
may change, your bank account,

your religion, your nationality,

the colour of your flag.

But when you sit
with these people in their home

and you eat with them,
you realize

they just want to love
and be loved.

Humanity is good at its core.

And that's, I think, the most
special part about this journey.

I'm staying at this house

and the wife
of the husband is this like

drop-dead gorgeous blonde
that's very flirtatious.

And I get back from the horses one day,

and she was there by herself,
so she says,

"What are you doing?"
I'm like, "Nothing."

She's like, "Do you wanna
have dinner with me?"

I'm like, "Sure,
let's have dinner!"

And we have dinner, nothing happens,

and a couple hours later,
this is a Sunday night,

I'm talking over Skype
with my family,

and all of a sudden
out of nowhere I hear...

I started
looking around the room.

What can I put in front of the door?

If I jump out the window,
will I survive?

Two hours after
the police rode in...

They talked to him,
and then they left.

She was alive.
He didn't kill her.

Alright, just entered Nicaragua.

Feels crazy to be here.

I wish I could have filmed the process.

I had to pay so much money.

It was insane,
took me like four hours.

It sucks.

I honestly hate every border
I get to, it's the worst.

But...
Nicaragua, woo!

Today's a very special day,

I get to see my mom after two years.

I miss her a lot,
and she really wants to ride,

but she has no experience
so it's gonna be hilarious.

I'll never forget
waiting at the airport for her

just brought so much
love and happiness to me.

So, we get on the horses...

The first thing she's like,
"This is how slow we travel?"

I'm so tired.

It's so hot.

And I'm here because of you.

So, my mom thought I was
galloping through the Americas.

How long has it been?

Four hours?

It's been like two hours.

She's like, "Filipe,
I need to get off this horse."

I'm like, "No, you can't get off
now or we're not gonna make it."

I push her through
the last few kilometres;

She just like melts on the ground dying.

I'm like, "Hey, that's
only the first day.

- "We got a week to go."
- Sorry, Filipe.

That's it for me.

One day.

My horses had personalities

that were larger than life.

Dude was a little surfer dude;

He looked like
a California beach bum,

bleach-blonde mane.

But he was also
the police of the horses.

When I'd put them out
in a pasture with other animals,

he would kinda stand apart.

Frenchie and Bruiser
would be glued to each other,

and Dude would be just
off in the distance,

and he would not let anyone
get near Frenchie and Bruiser.

So, the horses
were just grazing,

and Dude fell in a big hole.

Got his leg caught,
cut himself really bad.

I was getting him out;
It took me like half an hour

to get him out; I thought
he was gonna break his leg.

He was struggling so much.

Dude fell into
this old cattle guard.

He was pulling back so much he
got his front hoof caught in it,

and he was pulling back
so hard to try to get it out

that I thought he was just gonna
break his leg clean off.

And I'm trying to calm him down,
trying to calm him down,

and all of a sudden, he just
got up and I got up with him.

I didn't know if he had broken something.

And I thought to myself,

"Please, there has to be
some sort of higher power

"that can help us."

Sure enough, the universe sent
me these two kids on a bike

that had been fishing.

In 30 minutes, we're loading
the horse up on the truck,

and we were able to take care of him

and bring him back to health.

Tschiffely, Manche, Gato,

I definitely prayed
to them in the tough moments.

They were this greater being
that followed me throughout

the entire experience,
and they changed my life.

That's all I can say.

Like, that book "Tschiffely's Ride"

changed my life.

Emma's come back
to ride with me,

and it's gonna be an awesome time.

I'm so excited to have her out here.

How are we doing?
We're doing good.

Tired, sweaty...

but still alive!

We were riding by monkeys

hopping from tree to tree.

Exotic birds.

We're so close
to the Pacific Ocean.

First time these horses
will ever see it...

it's right there.

There we go, first time these guys

walk on the Pacific Ocean.
Frenchie got a little scared.

Huge moment right now,
huge moment for us.

Alright, just arriving
at the border with Panama.

Took the bus just to
make sure I know exactly

what I need to cross the border because

I don't wanna be
stuck here for six hours.

Gonna go check it out now
and then ride the horses here

hopefully in one or two days.

When I used to read
"Tschiffely's Ride,"

Panama was always huge because
when he was coming north,

he had to load his horses on a boat,

to cross from Colombia into Panama.

Found the office,
and thank God I came early

because they have no idea
what to do right now.

When I got there,
there was this guy,

spitting out rice as he told me

what I couldn't do and what I could do

and showing me these papers

and telling me
to look at the website,

and not being very helpful at all.

They want to
charge me $250 per horse.

It's a joke.

I waited all day for
the vet here yesterday.

He never showed up.

They're gonna have to stay here
in quarantine at the border

for seven days, and that's gonna
mean we're gonna spend Christmas

right here at the border,
under this tree.

It's gonna be the worst
Christmas of my life.

I was running around everywhere.

I had to pay $300;
Then I had to pay $100.

Then I had to run and get a green form;

Then I had to get a yellow form;
Then I had to get this form.

What I found out is that
in order to import a horse

into Panama, that animal had
to spend six months or longer

in the country from where
you're exporting it from.

It was like someone pulled
the ground from underneath me.

It's like,
"What am I gonna do?"

Now I just got a new price,
and it is...

$12,000.

I absolutely hate borders.

I hate bureaucracy.

I hate stupid rules and regulations

that mean nothing.

At first we were gonna go to Colombia.

Then all of a sudden,
the ministry of agriculture

in Brazil notifies me that there is a virus

and if the horses touch foot
in Colombia or Venezuela,

they now can't enter Brazil.

The horses are not leaving Costa Rica.

Again.

We've been stuck for three months now,

and I really thought that
today was gonna be the day,

but it's not.

So we gotta keep trying, I guess.

For the first time I was like,

"Is the trip over?"

A horse has never been sent
from Costa Rica to Peru.

Boats don't take horses anymore
in this part of the world.

So we have
to talk to the president

of the ministry
of agriculture in Brazil

to call the president of the
ministry of agriculture in Peru

to open up a window for the first time.

Every border I got to
wanted to make me quit.

Fuck!

It's just so hard to...

to have to think about
leaving my horses here.

They've worked so hard to...

...to get us this far,
you know, and...

The amount of like cocaine
and marijuana that cross

these borders every day...

The amount of illegal things
that go on every day,

I've seen it.

I've travelled through
the little, little paths

beside the border where drugs are cross,

where women are crossed illegally,

where whatever you want you can get.

And everyone turns a blind eye
and officials are paid off

and politicians steal more money,

but when you're
trying to do something right,

you get all your tests done,

you hire the vet, you pay
$16,000 to do something right,

you know, you have everything
you need, they just, like...

Border guards
are, by nature, hostile.

They are an extenuation of
the ancient Roman prejudice

that anyone mounted
was an uncivilized barbarian.

And Filipe's journey
across the international borders

as he went south became
increasingly hard, hostile,

and dangerous,
because the bureaucrats

that were in charge of the borders

were intent on keeping him out.

Alright, so it's just
after 10 o'clock in the morning,

it's 10:13,

and I have a message from
the authorities of Brazil.

Please, baby Jesus,
please God, please universe,

make it be good news.

Woo!
Aah!

We got it, we got it!

Fuck!
Yeah!

Woo!

Oh...

Thank you.

We finally
managed to get the horses

on an Avianca flight to Peru.

Alright, boys, you ready to fly?

You ready to fly?

No problem, eh, Frenchie?

I love you guys!

Hey!

What's up?

Oh!

So, after
a few days of quarantine,

they finally let us leave

and we were able to ride through Peru.

After one year
eight months on the road,

we are officially in Peru.

In South America.

I can't even begin to express
how amazing it feels.

Riding in Peru!

Currently on the coast in Lima.

Have to get
to the Bolivian border,

and then somehow to the Brazilian border.

It's nice that we at least
get to enjoy this

and the horses are
resting in a nice ranch,

so everyone is recharging before
the final stretch to Brazil.

Not so good.

Bumpy ride.

Unfortunately,
Frenchie, Bruiser, and Dude

only had a certain number of
days to transit through Peru.

We ended up having to trailer them

all the way
to the Bolivian border.

So, after another
mountain of paperwork

and South American bureaucracy,

we finally made it to
La Paz with the horses

and were able to continue our ride.

Can't believe it.
Just outside of La Paz.

It's been an insane road
to get here,

but somehow, some way,

we managed to get to
the last country we'll cross.

From the Andes,
we rode southeast

to the Brazilian
border town of Corumbá,

Mato Grosso do Sul.

Today is one of the most important days

of the entire trip.

After one year and 11 months
on the road,

we finally get to Brazil.

Adios, Bolivia!

Stepping on Brazilian soil,

so many emotions.

I can't believe it, we're here.

More than 14,000 kilometres
away from Calgary,

and we're here in Brazil.

My parents drove up.

Before my dad even stopped his truck,

my little sister runs out

and gives me the biggest hug ever.

It was almost three years
that I hadn't seen her.

It was a big moment of deja vu,
because in the hard moments,

when the bullets were flying,
when the horses were hurt,

I would take myself to my
parents' embrace and to Brazil.

And I think that's kind of
why I got there as well,

because I was able to visualize it so much

that one day it just happened.

I spent three months
riding through Brazil,

getting stopped on the road...

Like, I could barely ride

because it meant so much
for the Brazilian people.

We just came to
a really small, small,

little pueblo here in Brazil,

and Alex just gave me this
to scare the jaguars away.

I will never forget
the way my country

welcomed me back home.

I'm very blessed
to have amazing parents.

They never cut my wings.

Where those flags
are on the horizon...

that's Barretos,
that's the rodeo grounds.

It's like a mirage!

I can't believe we're here!

A-ha!

Oh, thank you!

Ah!

Oh, man!

I can't believe we made it!

It was dark outside.

There was a helicopter
hovering over us.

Frenchie obviously
did not like the helicopter.

And I was just so nervous.

We get to the back of the arena,

and then this guy just goes...

"Filipe Leite,
the horseman of the Americas!"

Being a long rider,

it's someone that has
a deep passion for horses,

that loves nature
and wants to be connected

to the natural world.

It's someone that wants to
understand humanity at its core.

It's someone that doesn't
ride a horse for competition,

to win prizes or ribbons or money.

I love those horses so much, you know?

My kids, Frenchie,
Bruiser, and Dude...

...we just became so close
on this journey.

And they were just like my kids.

Like, that's
the only way to explain.

We went through so much,

and to be there with them,

after everything we had been through,

and for them to be so healthy...

I'll never forget that.

I got up to the stage.

My mom was there with my dad.

The people that had been important to me,

and I felt so alive at that moment,

and I just thanked
everyone that helped me.

And then they took me to go see my statue.

I'm like, "What?"

Oh my God!

I don't deserve this.

Oh my God!

No, this is...

I'm 27 years old,

and I'm looking up at Bruiser's head

and then me on top,
more than five metres tall.

Oh my God, this is insane.

...in their own unique ways.

Our next guest's journey to Brazil

is nothing short of amazing.

Filipe and Bruiser!

We're
incredibly impressed by you

and what you've
been able to accomplish,

but how about giving the horse some credit?

Exactly, exactly!

This is Bruiser,
one of the three heroes

that walked 8,000 miles
from Canada to Brazil.

It's insane.

They're warriors.

Going up that mountain,
it was like they knew.

My dad built them a house,
built them stalls, and...

I promised him when I met
them, I said, "Listen boys,

"we're gonna go to war here,
but we're gonna make it,

"and I'm gonna give you guys
the best retirement

"a horse could ever ask for."

I walked them out to the pasture.

Little Dude...

My little mustang.

And now you're free to be
a little mustang again.

Eh?
Good job.

I love you so much, buddy.

Thank you so much.

You're the best horse in the world.

I know you know that.

And I wouldn't have
gotten here without you.

Frenchie, I know we got
off to a rocky beginning.

You almost killed me.

But I wouldn't have done this without you,

with all your spirit, all your heart.

And I love you so much.

Thank you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

And I still had Naomi's ashes.

She went the entire way from
Craig, Colorado, to Brazil.

There were so many moments
where I thought I was gonna die

or the horses were gonna die,
and somehow, some way,

we came out the other side alive.

I really started to believe
that this woman was there

to protect us.

She was my guardian angel.

I asked her to continue
to watch out for the horses

and keep them safe.

And that's when my life fell apart.

You've spent 803 days
chasing kilometres with horses,

and then all of a sudden,
you're back to your house,

you're back to real life,

you're cut off from the herd.

I had symptoms of PTSD.

I started experiencing
anxiety and depression,

couldn't sleep at night,
recurring nightmares.

Emma broke up with me.

In this mess that I was in,
like a lot of people,

I turned to the bottle
and started drinking.

And one night I made the
mistake of getting in my truck,

and nearly died.

For 6,000 years,

brave men and women have
been swinging into the saddle

and setting off in search
of adventure and freedom.

Sadly, in the last 50 years,

the world has turned into
a mediocrity by travel machines.

Filipe represents the end
of the age of Tschiffely.

Filipe's journey

provides us with the message of hope.

Yes, we have hostile borders,

but what we see in Filipe is a beacon.

He had the courage to
overcome discouragement.

He then confronted and overcame

every kind of obstacle
the Americas could throw at him.

And what he proves is that the
mounted argonauts of the past

are still with us.

The horse ultimately has
made me a better human being.

The horse is one of the biggest
mammals, yet it's so calm.

And there are studies
that prove that that energy,

it transcends to people

that spend a lot of time around horses.

You end up being a calmer being.

And horses today help people
with mental problems;

They help people with addiction.

I am an example of what the horse can do.

The horse pulled me out of a depression.

The horse was my therapy.

In 2019, I started
the final portion of my ride

from Alaska to Calgary
on two wild horses,

with Clara by my side.

When I started the journey,

I was leaving Canada

and returning to what I thought
was my home, Brazil.

The fact of the matter is
that when I arrived in Brazil,

I realized I couldn't be further from home.

And today, when you ask me
what home signifies to me,

it has a name,
and it's "Clara."

You know, very few
people will get to spend

as much time as I did with the same horses,

and out of all of the lessons
I learned from them,

I think the most important
one was the simplest:

Take that first step.