Saturday, July 13, 2013

(Part 3) Estancia SANTA CATALINA

In the May 2011 issue of “The Bulletin” (the magazine edited by the Anglo-Argentine Community Council) there are two very interesting articles by Miss. Katherine Kirby and Mr. Brian Browne referring to the first settlement that took place in Argentina during 1825 by 200 Scots that settled in the area of Santa Catalina (about 30 Kms. South-West of the capital city Of Buenos Aires.) Today between the towns of Lavallol and Monte Grande.

The mentioned articles state the situation of the settlers during the years they remained in the area.

But the following story is about how it was nearly 70 years ago.
 
When I was a youngster, and remembering how thing were in those days. Please refer to the map that follows:

                                       
                                               Map  of Santa Catalina

    
The British Cemetery is on Garibaldi street and was the only paved road branching off , before the cemetery, to Lavallol Station. Garibaldi street ended at the back entrance to Santa Catalina and on the left side, not far, the British Cemetery.

Other paved roads were Antártida Argentina to Monte Grande/Cañuelas and the other was through the “Tiro Federal” both crossing “Camino de Cintura”. The rest were all  earth roads.

 From the cemetery, on Garibaldi,   a few blocks towards the town of Lomas de Zamora  we find the railway barriers of  F.C.G.A.

In those days lived beside the barriers a Mr.Brown – Manager of Firestone - the house is still there. Followed a small entrance where you arrived at a farm pertaining to a family named Budd .Continued 8 acres of land belonging to Charlie Dodds´s (1933-1979) parents.  Further on was a “boliche”. owned  by a Sr. Mantovani.  Crossing  the  road two blocks away you  meet the cemetery grounds. On the other side of Garibaldi as from the barrier was all “Santa Catalina´s” ground.

Today you still find the main house of the Dodds´s farm all surrounded by houses.

Charlie and I were excellent friends and we both kept horses at the farm which we thoroughly enjoyed our many gallops at the time of open country roads. Together with the keeping of the horses in good shape: bathing, scrubbing, shining hoofs, and greasing our saddles.

                                             

We used to follow the railway line towards the town of Ing. Bunge where we met the Riachuelo stream Or perhaps followed the Matanza  up river and sometimes, in warm summer nights, sleep in the open.

At some times we were quite a crowd on our horses, these included our good friends: Percy Collingwood, Oscar Tufró, Carlie Ederer, Donald Peebles, Jim Risso and Arturo Banham.

   
Other times we took the horses to friends farm in Tristan Suarez, stayed a few days trying to play a sort of polo.

 As to “Santa Catalina” many a times went on our horses through the beautiful forest and  came out on the “Camino de Cintura” and then on to watch a game of rugby at the premises of “Rojondí” where Old Philomathians  had their club.

In those times SC was open to visitors, this came to a stop when fire broke out amongst the forest.
                   
I also remember attending big barbecues for the 25th of May and 9th of July at “SC” where people used to gather on their horses and “sulkys” (Few cars in those days)          
                       
Santa Catalina, I seem to remember, was a farming school and in 1952 whilst working in a “camp” in the Province of Corrientes we had the visit of a “Comisario” who came to the “estancia” who had studied there before joining the Police Force.

 However, not all our time was spent attending our horses: we often, met with our crowd of friends and went to tea parties, dances at Lomas Club, Queens Club, Marmol Club. St.Alban´s College and attended the Caledonian Balls and Farmers Nights (with professor Starch), Community “get-togethers” and went as far as Tigre Boat Club and Läviron (Train to Constitución/underground to Retiro/train to Tigre. The return trip was slightly different as from Retiro took the tram to Constitución )  

Caledonian Ball A.D.1950s  Above:Charlie Dodds, "Red" Glynn, Derek Foster, Donald Peebles. Bottom: Sybil Dodds, Martha Marlowe,Beatriz Zalazar, Brownie Waters.
                    
To continue with this story I must mention that my Father and his good friend Erik Meek were very keen fishermen having tried their sport in different rivers in the province of Buenos Aires.

However, they took a fancy to the “Rio Salado”.  And many times caught the train to Guerrero station (F.C.S.) spending many week-ends trying their luck. This was around about 1940.But as the years went by they organized a two weeks holiday during February, where a big tent would be pitched up either under the route 2(to Mar del Plata) bridge or at a small farm near by.

Wonderful summers of rowing up and down river, fishing and swimming together with my brother Digby or Erik´s son Ronnie. Or later on a school friend all having a great time.

 I do not want to enlarge on this matter because the adventures during those years were so many that I prefer to write a story only on that issue.

So on a hot February afternoon in 1950 Charlie and I drove the horses into the “corral”.
and picked three: Charlie his bay mare, I caught “Rubio” my sorrel and a third horse the “Zainito” as a pack horse.

My saddle bags consisted of two haversacks: one of 1914/18 vintage (My Father´s ) and the second 1939/45.

All saddled up and parted the Dodds farm. Rode down the “Camino de las Tropas” now Av.Frias, continued what is now a paved Av. H.Yrigoyen and kept  riding South in the dark of night passing through Cnel.Brandsen to route 29 till we arrived to the Samborombón  river.

We unsaddled, took the horses to the river to water, hobbled them so that they might graze peacefully, opened a few cans for dinner, stretched our saddles and blankets under the railway bridge and soon fell fast asleep.

Not much time went by when a train came hooting at top speed and two of our horses panicked and went into a bucking spree, except “Zainito” who kept grazing and only snorted at the issue.  Having attended our horses back to normal we surrendered into a deep sleep.

Woke up, next morning, when the sun was quite high, had breakfast consisting of black coffee and buns, saddled up, and on our way.

We continued our trek on route 29 and branched of at Ranchos towards Chascomús. I remember that at some time or other we met a horseman trooping cattle which with whom we traveled for a time until we parted and when passing “boliches” people came out to find out where we were traveling to and wished us luck.

The day turned out to be very hot, and after a canned lunch of corned beef and beans, it got so hot we got off our horses, took of our boots, tied them to our saddles and kept on leading our horses in “alpargatas”

By evening we arrived at a small bridge where a branch of one of the lagoons of the area flowed into another.   We were, by then quite tired, so we settled for the night at that place.

Next day we kept on arriving at route 2 and had a comfortable ride as the banks of the road were wide enough, and as the weather was fresh, we were able to gallop.

We finally arrived at the Rio Salado, on crossing the bridge I spotted my Father fishing in the boat in the middle of the river.  No sooner he saw us he rowed as fast as possible and we met when we were going down the roads embankment receiving a hearty welcome from him and Uncle Erik.  
                                      
The small farm belonged to a Sr. Domingo Ursino, who was also a commercial fisherman sending his catch to Mar del Plata, had comfortable barns where we could sleep. The estancia surrounding this farm was “La Raquel” owned by Mrs Valeria Guerrero de Russo.   From the right lane of route 2, amongst the forest you may have a sight of the beautiful chateau.

Sr.Ursino had, working with him, a lad about our age and no sooner were we unsaddling he accosted Charlie to ask him if his name was Dodds when answered in the affirmative the youngster informed that his Mother was of the same surname. (?)

This was the year where we were quite a crowd:  My Mother (an elderly lady of 49) and her friend Mrs. Hoy. (Mother did not take much to camping over all these years but that year she really enjoyed it and I was very much surprised when she went on a ride on the “Zainito” ) (Unbelievable). There were also my sister Joyce (11) and her friend Irene
and Alice – Erik¨s  youngest daughter and others I cannot recall.
The horses were comfortably settled in a closed paddock; Charlie and I slept in one of the barns. All that happened later were new experiences and surprises.

                                     


After breakfast we went to look for the horses and as soon as they saw us came towards us, all three neighing and snorting, so we would put on their bridles and ride bear back, all together for a swim in the river.  The horses rolled in the mud to their content and were later bathed.   Evenings were spent galloping on the Northern side of the river as it was open land. However we could not go down river too far as there were barb wire fences deep across the river.

Alice Meek had never ridden a horse, but asked us to take her along on our rides. So having the Zainito his own saddle Alice started her riding experience.
  
Dinners were also great: Cooking was good and later Erik use to delight us with his banjo.

The days kept going by in thorough enjoyment and time to depart arrived. Alice asked us if she could ride back with us. We asked Uncle Erik for approval: he said “Yes”

So, finally, the day came to depart.   The three of us saddled up and “hit the trail”.

                                   

We left rather late in the day and by dusk realized we were not going to get to Chascomús. So we stopped at a railway station, I cannot recall if it was Adela, and asked instructions from the Station Master who immediately offered us to sleep at the “Waiting Room”. Right away his second took our horses into the station pen and watered and fed them.

The waiting rooms floor was quite hard and next morning the three of us were quite stiff; saddled up, thanked the Station Master and we arrived nearly midday by the side of Chascomus Lagoon. Charlie and Alice fell asleep against a tree whilst I took the horses into the water to cool them down after which I went for a swim.

That night  we arrived once again to the Samborombón river sleeping under the railway bridge and the following evening arrived back to the farm in Lavallol.  We unsaddled and left the horses loose, Charlie remained and Alice and I boarded a buss to Lomas, accompanied Alice home and I returned to my Parent´s house.

We had traveled in total around 350 Kms. It was really a good adventure for us youngsters and “Green-horns” at that. Little did I know that a couple of years later I would be doing 30/40 Kms. per day in cattle stations in Corrientes and Entre Rios.

That was the year the camp site and long holidays came to an end and although Dad and Erik kept their fishing during long week –ends; the rest of us went our ways.
 
Alice lives in England and has also lived in Zambia by the Sambezi river but whenever we meet, either England or Tandil this great adventure is a must to be recalled.

As life would have it I went back to Santa Catalina in 1965, whilst I was working for an American factory of agriculture machinery to give a lecture and display on tractors and implements.

Most of what I have written comes as a flash whenever I drive through Garibaldi Street towards the Lavallol Cemetery to say goodbye to friends that have been called to Higher Service and I have a chance of seeing the land where Santa Catalina stands today.

                                                                            Derek R. Foster(“Dry Alamo”)
                                                                            June 2011
                                                                       


PART 2
A TRIBUTE TO FRIENDS:              



Charlie Dodds, Antonio Tuduri, Derek Foster  (1960)

In 1948, at a tea party, I met Charlie Dodds, we were both about the same age of fifteen.

We instantly became very good friends and   a few days later I was invited at his Parents farm in Lavallol where he kept horses.

As described previously we rode and enjoyed our gallops through the area.

A few months later Charlie’s Father allowed me to have my own horse on the farm.

I spoke with my Father about the matter and I was given permission to buy a horse and a few days later my Father bought me a saddle I have never seen one quite the same : it was a “Colonial” saddle complete with a  set of reins.

With Charlie we rode down to Tristan Suarez from Lavallol (about 15 Kms.) to a friends farm
where I was offered and bought my horse “Rubio” paying $300 for this ten year old horse.

                                   
                                                                     Derek and Rubio

We stayed, at the farm, for a couple of days. Then saddled up and rode back to Lavallol.  I clearly remember riding “Rubio” down Garibaldi street that fresh April morning towards home
to present my horse to my Parents. Which was well accepted into the family.

He was a good horse, strong, ideal for parting cattle, lancing, trying to play polo, etc. but he could be rough and had his spot of devilish humour.

 To start with he did not have a “soft mouth”, so when excited was difficult to rein in. If in a race, as we often did, you had to pull on one of the reins till his neck was turned and then he would come to a stop.

There is another way to stop a horse, if you have the courage, that is standing on your stirrups put your hands slowly on his eyes… this will stop him.   However, a good friend of mine, Jim tried this one on the “Rubio” but did it so fast that the horse stopped on his tracks and Jim flew over the horses neck.

Other stunts could be quite embarrassing, like visiting a girl… when girl no sooner came out of the house he would pee and fart to his great content. Girl and I would flush….

Another habit he took on was:   when you set your left foot in the stirrup and about to mount he would set his left hoof on your right foot, put all his weight on it and turn his head looking the other way.

The first time he did this I thought it was a coincidence. So I punched his cheek and he instantly let go.  A few days later he again went through the same stunt.

Another time Charlie, Ernst and myself were having a rest, lazing in the grass when Ernst asked if he could use my horse …. When about to do so I told Charlie: “Watch” and there was Ernst waving his arms with his right foot under “Rubio s” hoof.

I enjoyed “Rubio’s” company for over four years when I decided to go and work in “camps” up North.

Whilst I was away Charlie went to a camp in General Madariaga and the´Lavallol farm was subdivided and sold. Right away all the area was built in and all six horses just disappeared.

My return nearly three years later coincided with Charlie’s. And after a few weeks he invited me to go to our friends farm in Tristan Suarez..

To my great surprise I found “Rubio” there. According to the foreman’s story he had been awaken one early morning to hear the farm horses running up and down the in- fences and were neighing and snorting and on the other side of the fence, on the road, was a horse, galloping along……
The gate was opened and in came “Rubio”….  Back Home.

To get there he must have walked around 15 Kms  through roads and level-crossings.    True?

As to Charlie we kept our friendship over the years, in the ´Sixties” my Company sent me together with my family to live in Cinco Saltos (R.N) whilst Charlie’s Company sent him and family to Corrientes.

In ´69 we were back and we became members of Lomas Club and played tennis with friends every Saturday morning. We also attended “Camp Week Shows” at the Strangers Club, 
 the Caledonean  Balls both local and in town and most of the Community doos.

Our children were about the same age as Charlie’s so they were of ten together.

The end of this good friendship came to when my good friend, suddenly, passed away in 1979.

As to me I kept riding quite often as I used to travel to Tucuman on business and my brother Digby administrated quite a large “Camp” on the Pre-Cordillera where, also, with my family                
spent wonderful holidays and did some very good trout fishing up the mountains.

Fortunately, I still do quite a bit of riding, but not enough as I would like as earth roads, within the area, have completely disappeared.

The last outing being: following the Quequen Salado River (Tres Arroyos) for two days with my five sons and two of my grand-children.

This being the same river that in 1876 Don Roberto Cunningham Graham and his partner George Mansel drove their cattle and horses bought in the town of Azul to their “camp” in Sauce Grande (Sierra de La Ventana) (Bs.As.) where they were able to settle for a year till they had Indian attack and had to drive all their stock and look for refuge in what is today Mar del Plata
 
The following photograph was published in the Tourism supplement of a Bs.As. Newspaper

on two occasions :
 Stevie,Charlie, Derek,Brian,Derek (Sr.), Juan Manuel,Henry,Erik Fosters

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