Hidden Trails Community

Snowy Mountains Australia

yeastinfection — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 09:47:00 GMT

its just a short story about some lovely Australian Stock Horses.

My Mum and I had a lovely time down in that part of the world.

Australians do really know their animals and I have to say the terrain is beautiful.

Because I am small I rode a pack horse one day which was fun. the other days were the larger stock horses.

Lovely memories and hope to get back there again.

Cutting Horse Dreams in Colorado

admin — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 00:41:00 GMT

One Heck of a Ride
by Darley Newman - Originally published in True West magazine.

If you’ve ever been on a roller coaster, then you have a small inkling of what it feels like to ride a cutting horse. It was my first time and I was holding onto the horn of my saddle for dear life as Leana with Style an eight-year-old championship cutter, threw me around the area while she chased a black cow. Leana with Style is trained to go after that cow, and I was trying to stay on her back while not getting in her way.

I was participating in Dream Week of the Cowboy Adventure in Colorado, a week of intense clinics where participants can live out their cowboy dreams. People from all over the world had gathered at this working ranch to be schooled by cutting horse trainers Tena and Eddie Johnson and critiqued by cutting horse champion and judge Teddy Johnson. We would all have the chance to ride a superb, award-winning cutting horse by the end of the week.

I was at a bit of a disadvantage coming into the clinic, because we were filming only part of the Dream Week for our show. That meant that I would come in a little late in the lessons and in turn get sort of thrown into the mix. It would turn out to be one of the most exciting rides that I have ever taken.

Cutting horses are usually Quarter Horses, but can be other breeds. They are used to separate out a calf away from the herd. To do this, cutting horses have to be quick, agile and intelligent. Riders have to have pretty good balance to stay in the saddle on these high performance horses. Cutting horses were originally developed on ranches. Cowboys would need to get one calf away from the herd in order to vaccinate it, castrate it or for other reasons.

“Over a period of time they found that after doing so many of these, theses horses would actually get to reacting on their own, so they got to breeding and crossing these horses that had that natural ability,” says cutting horse expert Teddy Johnson. “You get horses with a lot of cow, a lot of style. Sometimes they’ll get so intent they nearly want to lay down in front of that cow and that’s all just special benefits that come with different horses.”

Riding a cutting horse and actually working to separate out a cow is tricky. In my lessons, I was told to watch the head of the cow, drop my hand and use my legs more to direct the horse. Many of these horses are so well trained that the cow begins to dictate where the horse goes. It’s like, when you drop your hand and give the horse your reins, you are saying sick’em. And they do.

Leana with Style moved in ways that I had never felt a horse move before, lunging from side to side, hurtling forward. I was like a rag doll, but I did stay on. Watching the more experienced riders cut was like watching a tango. The riders could read the horse’s next move and had learned to move as if at one with the horse.

Cutting competitions are events in which the horse and rider must separate a cow from the herd and keep it separated for a certain amount of time. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. Those who want to move into the cutting world need a versatile horse with an aptitude for this type of work and need patience, because like any equestrian discipline there is a lot of training involved for the horse and rider.

Trainer Eddie Johnson has some advice for riders who are looking at cutting more seriously. “"Find the most reputable cutting horse pro in your area to ask about shows, training, lessons, etc. Above all, buy the best horse you can afford. Pre purchase exams are essential. Your trainer should be able to help you determine the right horse for your ability and budget. Be willing to work hard and most of all, have fun!"

If you want to explore the world of cutting with your horse, are looking for a suitable mount or just want explore riding these amazing horses, there are many options. Good resources are the National Cutting Horse Association www.nchacutting.com and the American Quarter Horse Association www.aqha.com , who may be able to suggest upcoming clinics, trainers and other ways to get involved.

Of course a week on the Cowboy Adventure is a good start as well.
For more information on this "Cowboy Adventure in Colorado" take a look at the Hidden Trails website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/usa_colordao_working_ranch_cowboy_adventure.aspx
Or call them direct at 1-888-9-TRAILS ... Hidden Trails offers a wide variety of equestrian vacations all over the world. The staff is very knowledgeable and will find the perfect trip for you.

Trail and Train in Southern Spain

admin — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 00:32:00 GMT

Dressage and Trail at Epona
by Darley Newman

As I watched Napoleon, a beautiful white Andalusian, neighing and pawing the ground and prancing around, agitated at having to stand for a minute, I felt sure that this was not the horse that I would be riding for my dressage lesson at Epona, a riding center outside of Seville that specializes in dressage training. With my hunter jumper training, I have learned a little about dressage, but nothing that would prepare me to ride a highly trained, highly sensitive horse and actually cue him to do something.

Vivi, the daughter of Fernando and Jane, who own Epona, was riding Napoleon, practicing the Spanish walk, piaffe and passage and looking fantastic. Vivi has been studying dressage her entire life, including four years at the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art in Jerez, studying under Olympic medalist Rafael Soto. She’s what I would call a near expert in dressage. I say “near” because with dressage, as with other types of riding, there is always something to learn. One can study dressage for a lifetime. Also, you may be riding or training different horses, which takes years as well.

Darley Vivi rode over to me on Napoleon and asked if I wanted to try the piaffe and passage, two upper-level dressage movements. I kind of didn’t, as I wasn’t sure that I could handle Napoleon. He is quite a horse with a lot of energy and strength, but when else would I have the chance to ride a horse like Napoleon, who is so well trained, under the guidance of his trainer? After expressing my concerns to Vivi, I decided to give it a try.

Napoleon was just as I thought he would be, very responsive. I felt the energy right as I got on and took a few deep breaths to loosen up. Vivi led me over to a guardrail to make the session a bit safer and worked with me so that I was giving Napoleon the right cues. It’s definitely a balance to get it right. You want to give just enough leg pressure and just enough contact with the reins, so that the horse knows what you want him to do.

Darley It took me a few minutes, before I was able to communicate correctly with Napoleon with Vivi’s help and guidance. When Vivi is on the ground, Napoleon is used to practicing the levade, a collected movement during which the horse raises its front legs into the air at a 30 to 35 degree angle to the ground and holds this position. Because of the angle, this is very difficult for the horse.

When I first got on, Napoleon raised his front legs up several times in an attempt to do the levade. This was a little disconcerting, but I didn’t actually feel unsafe. Once Napoleon knew that we were breaking up his routine, he responded very well. With Vivi’s help, I was able to get Napoloen to do the piaffe, a collected movement when the horse trots in place. I felt his extreme power under me as we bounced up and down, and I amazingly was able to keep my bum in the saddle. I smiled inside at having accomplished this, so was eager to try something else.

Vivi let me feel the passage next. The passage is a movement during which the horse performs an exaggerated trot, which feels almost like trotting in slow motion. Napoleon moved his legs high into the air and seemed very proud to be moving in this way. All of these movements require that the horse be extremely fit and have built up the proper muscles to be able to move this way. Trying to do these things for the first time let me experience part of the feeling of accomplishment that dressage riders must feel when they are dancing with their horses.

After dressage, Fernando and I rode through the olive fields and to an old abandoned hacienda. I was on Handsome, a beautiful, bay Andalusian. At the over 100-year-old hacienda, we got off of our horses and walked through the inside to see the giant clay pots used to store the olives and the various rooms where the olive oil was processed. Just another day on horseback in Andalucia!

For more information on this "Train and Trail Getaway in Andalusia" take a look at the Hidden Trails website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/spain_andalusia_epona_equestrian.aspx

Or call them direct at 1-888-9-TRAILS ... Hidden Trails offers a wide variety of equestrian vacations all over the world. The staff is very knowledgeable and will find the perfect trip for you.

Wilderness Tenting Ride in Banff National Park

admin — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 23:17:00 GMT

Banff Pack Trip, Alberta
by Darley Newman

The first day of our pack trip had been an eventful one. The three-hour ride to Mystic Camp (which took us about five and a half, because we were filming) was a mix of sun, rain and hail- yes hail in July! We were in the Canadian Rockies of Alberta, exploring Banff National Park and filming a pack trip for a new episode of Equitrekking. In Banff, as in any mountainous area, layers are essential, because the weather changes quickly.

We passed through deep forests, teeming with moss, both on the ground and hanging from the branches of tall spruce trees. My horse Tumbleweed drank from cold mountain streams and trotted and walked along the sometimes rocky trails. We passed through forested trails that opened up to reveal dramatic, tall mountain peaks, piercing the sky. I felt like I was looking at an Ansel Adams photograph, except that I was there, seeing it in color, smelling the forest and rain and hearing the birds.

On the ride to camp, we passed only one other soul, a packer with a string of mules. He was making a supply run for the camp where we were headed. For the most part, we rode in silence-- in a zenlike state. We stopped a few times in more picturesque areas to film. Tumbleweed, my trusty trail horse, didn’t like being left alone with the mule that Barry, our guide, rode. He’d named her Sharon Stone, because she had attitude and said she was a super smart mule. I don’t think Tumbleweed appreciated her finer qualities. Every time Barry and I tried to ride away from the group, Tumbleweed called out to make sure that the others knew he was nearby. I reassured him with pats and tried to make sure the other horses were in view.

A few times along our ride, Barry pointed out fresh bear scat along the trails, though we don’t see any bears. The bears seemed to be hiding from us, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

The outfitting company with whom we traveled, runs three camps in Banff National Park. These camps aren’t just a few small tents in the woods. They are quite intricately logistical operations.

The Mystic Camp has a large tack tent, luggage tent, outhouses, a small slew of sleeping tents (tents built on wooden risers, because it rains so much), and a dining tent complete with a wood burning stove (for warmth and where hot water and coffee rest) and even a propane stove. Imagine the dining tent in the TV series “Mash” and you can maybe imagine these, except they are white canvas.

When we first got to camp, I met Tanya, the cook. She’s got a hard job, living in the woods and cooking for hungry riders. Tanya introduced me to her kitchen, where she cooks up amazing meals like the pancakes, oatmeal, fresh muffins, eggs and sausage that we had for breakfast the next morning. I do admit, clean up is sort of a pain because no electricity means no dishwasher, but the woman’s got a stove! Someone had the tough job of packing that in at some point in the beginning of the summer and someone will pack it out.

Tanya told me about her relationship with the folks she calls the “packers.” These are like the truck drivers of the horse world. Their job is to ride a string of horses and mules packed with supplies into camp and then carry out trash or whatever needs to be taken away from camp. Mystic Camp is the closest camp to civilization and it’s still three hours. Tanya gets her meats and items that need to stay cold brought in frozen by a packer and she keeps a list for each time he comes to camp. When the frozen foods arrive, she immediately buries them in her insulated ground box to keep them cool for the week.

It’s like we’d stepped back in time, as we walked down to the glacial fed stream to get water to clean the potatoes for dinner. Armed with a silver bucket, I made sure not to fall into the chilly waters as I attempted to help Tanya. (Guests don’t have to help with chores, but I wanted to see how the whole camp worked.) Tanya cooked a beef roast, baked potatoes, salad, corn, fresh baked muffins and cherry cake for dinner. The food was good and hearty. The best part of the meal was the second dessert, when we all sat outside by a fire and roasted s’mores. I hadn’t had s’mores by a fire since I was a kid. They tasted really good.

It’s been a while since I’ve been camping. So long, in fact, that I failed to grasp the new camping technology on the first night of our pack trip. As the rain beat on my tent, I tossed and turn, wondering the point of the small, flat bedroll my sleeping bag rested upon. It was dark when I crawled into my tent and used my tiny flashlight to search for bugs, before changing and zipping myself into my sleeping bag. When the air is crisp outside, it’s good sleeping weather. I was keen to get in my sleeping bag and didn’t take the time to use my flashlight to properly set up my sleeping arrangements. My bedroll could have self-inflated, but I didn’t see that in the dark, so instead of sleeping on cushy air, I was sleeping on a worthless flat bedroll on a hard wooden riser. The next morning, I rose stiffer from the nights sleep than from the thirty-five miles I had ridden the past two days.

The second day of our trip was the most beautiful. That’s when we did our ride to Mystic Lake, a beautiful jade green colored glacial fed lake about an hour and a half’s ride from Mystic Camp. The setting was absolutely beautiful and again no one else was anywhere around. Sitting on Tumbleweed at Mystic Lake, I took in the chilly breeze coming off of its waters. It sure was special to be able to gaze at its beautiful, glassy waters, and absorb the wilderness within Banff National Park.

For more information on this "Wilderness Tenting Ride" take a look at the
Hidden Trails website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/ab_banff_tenting_ride.aspx
Or call them direct at 1-888-9-TRAILS ...

Hidden Trails specializes in equestrian vacation travel and offers a wide variety of horseback riding vacations all over the world. The staff is very knowledgeable and will find the perfect trip for you.

Cities of the Underworld in Belize

admin — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:14:00 GMT

Mayan Jungle Ride in Belize hosts:
The History Channel's Exploration Show, Cities of the Underworld

A jungle lodge that specializes in horseback riding and adventure tours, served as base of operations for the History Channel's Cities of the Underworld episode filmed in Belize.

Belize, Central America (PRWEB) December 3, 2007 -- An ecotourism jungle lodge in the Cayo District in Belize was selected and served as base of operations for the filming of a Mayan themed episode for The History Channel's series Cities of the Underworld. Arran, Alison, and Trevor Bevis hosted and accompanied the crew to some of their favorite and once secret underground places.

The Cities of the Underworld series examines world history by exploring structures that remain buried beneath the surface of modern and ancient cities. In its second season, the show's host Don Wildman and his crew stayed at the mountain lodge in Belize for two weeks while filming caves and exploring the underground realms of ancient Mayan cities.

Dr. Jaime Awe of the National Institute of Archaeology is one of Belize's foremost experts on Mayan history and archaeology. Dr. Awe dedicated long, unselfish hours to the project, taking the crew to several of the "greatest, richest undergrounds I've seen on the planet," Wildman says.

Wildman first visited the lodge thirteen years earlier as a youngster and he says he had the time of his life. Upon returning he stated, "The place is unchanged, even more beautiful."

"(I) can't begin to explain the thrills of riding horses through the jungle at full gallop, or inserting myself into the flow of an underground river running hard in a sacrificial cave," Wildman said. "But I can say, before it gets even more discovered: Go Belize. Few places exist like it anymore. And when you go, try stay with our friends at "Mayan Jungle Ride" if you want to gallop through the jungle."

About 'Mayan Jungle Ride':
Mentioned in "1,000 Places to See Before You Die," by Patricia Schultz, the operation is owned and operated by the Bevis family. Owners, Jim and Marguerite Bevis, have been operating the lodge since 1989 and have strongly advocated ecotourism principles both in their own lodge and in tourism businesses throughout the country of Belize. They are co-founders of Slate Creek Preserve, a community based nature preserve and the Belize Ecotourism Association. Based in the heart of Slate Creek Preserve, they have a strong reputation for both innovation and professionalism within the equestrian community and has expanded into the wider field of adventure tourism.

Offering both horseback riding and vehicle tours to nearby caves, waterfalls, and Mayan ruins, the lodge is situated in tropical moist broadleaf limestone karst forest within close proximity to the Mountain Pine Ridge Forest Reserve. Jaguars, pumas, ocelots, tapir and a multitude of colorful tropical birds and butterflies live within the rainforest habitat surrounding the lodge.

You can book the "Mayan Jungle Ride" with Hidden Trails, a specialist in equestrian vacations all over the world.
You can tall free 1-888-9-TRAILS or call on skype:hgiddentrails (from outside North Amerrica).

Here is the website for the Mayan Jungle Ride: http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/belize_mayan_jungle_ride.aspx

Colorado - Paints, Drafts and Quarter Horses, Too

admin — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 23:58:00 GMT

Riding Rocky Mountain Style at the Drowsy Water Ranch in Colorado
-- with Hidden Trails

Horseback riding, swimming, fishing, horseback riding, hay rides, square dancing, hiking, horseback riding, river rafting, archery and – horseback riding! All this and more in one week at one location – the 640–acre Drowsy Water Ranch in Granby, Colorado. It's all about choices!

Cheyenne, my 9–year–old granddaughter, and I visited the ranch last July, eager to share our mutual love of horses.

We drove from Ft. Collins, Colorado, through the Rocky Mountain National Park heading west toward the ranch. Trail Ridge Road in the Park is the highest continuous mountain highway in the United States with about ten miles above 12,000 feet. It was one magnificent view after another with a variety of wildlife – big horn sheep, a herd of elk, deer, a marmot, a stellar jay and several magpies – very striking black and white birds.

The only animal we hoped to see, and didn't, was a moose. That is, until we left the park and were nearing Drowsy Water's long driveway into the narrow valley between Music Mountain on the east and Stag Ridge on the west.

"Look! Look! A moose!" Cheyenne said excitedly as she pointed out the car window toward a grassy area between two cabins near the road.

"Oh, it's just one of those black cutouts that people stick in their yard," I commented without turning my head and continuing to drive.

"Well, the cut-out just lifted its head and is eating grass!"

Checking the rear-view mirror, I quickly pulled over to the side of the road and backed up to the area where Cheyenne was pointing. Sure enough, not 30 yards from the road stood a large, black bull moose calmly grazing in some lush green grass. I quickly found my camera and crept out of the car so I didn't scare him. But he just looked up at me, his huge rack fanning out on either side of his head, and then went back to grazing.

I had only seen one moose in the wild before and it was so far away you could hardly tell what it was. This guy took my breath away. He was magnificent!

Still excited and chattering about our moose sighting, Cheyenne and I continued on and soon turned off the main road at a bright red, covered wagon and the Drowsy Water Ranch sign. We drove one and a half miles back into a valley of pines and aspens where the red-roofed ranch buildings were nestled on either side of a small stream – Drowsy Water Creek – that bubbled and sparkled as it wound down from the mountains.

We were greeted by Randy Sue, our attractive and very gracious hostess, and shown to our room by Nick, a staff member from Cincinnati who told us how much he loved living on the ranch. After unpacking, Cheyenne and I set out to explore the ranch before the other guests arrived for dinner.

There were several cabins with porches and private baths for families; the main lodge for meals and meetings or just relaxing; a building resembling a huge tepee used for square dancing and other activities; the lodge where we were staying; a small gift shop; barns and outbuildings; corrals; a heated swimming pool; a hot tub; a pond for fishing; swings and other playground equipment for children; and paths going off in all directions for hiking and exploring.

That evening a delicious turkey dinner with all the trimmings was served, followed by a "get–acquainted" meeting in the main lodge.

"Howdy!" Ken Fosha, our host and owner of the ranch, greeted the week's 39 "dudes." The response from the "dudes" was weak.

"I said, 'Howdy!'" he repeated, a little louder this time.

"HOWDY!" we all shouted back.

Laughter was followed by introductions to our hosts, the Fosha Family – Ken, Randy Sue and sons, Justin and Ryan – and the 21 staff members – mostly young people who worked as wranglers, maids, dishwashers, chef, mechanics, farrier, and whatever else was needed. Then, we, the guests, introduced ourselves and our families. We came from all over the U.S. – Illinois, California, Pennsylvania, Nebraska – and London, England, and ranged from a newlywed couple to an 8–member family.

"This isn't the Marriott, a spa, or a camp. This is a dude ranch!" Ken informed us. "We want you to forget business and worries at home and just relax and enjoy your week here."

Ken continued with the ranch's rules, the week's itinerary, the history of the ranch, and finished up with some idiosyncrasies of the horses.

Everyone left the meeting, eager to begin our Dude Ranch Experience!

The lodge where Cheyenne and I stayed had several bedrooms with private baths, a comfortable central room for reading or visiting with other guests and a wide front porch that overlooked the activities area and pool. Cheyenne went out to play with two new girlfriends her age, Summer and Hannah, while I relaxed on the porch watching a volleyball game. Soon the fireflies began to twinkle in the gathering dusk and I heard parents calling their children in for the night.

Hearty breakfasts include eggs, pancakes, French toast, sausage, bacon, oatmeal, hash brown potatoes, rolls, toast, juice, coffee, and hot chocolate. Lunches were typically hot dogs or sandwiches, salads, fruit and dessert. Dinners might be lasagne or typical Western fare such as steak or chicken, with a salad, rolls and home-made desserts. Lemonade, ice tea, and water were always available, and we were encouraged to drink often because of the dry climate.

Our first morning down by the corrals Ken introduced us to the horses and Western riding while Randy Sue and her horse demonstrated. The ranch horses are mostly quarter horses, some paints, and some draft horse crosses for bigger riders. We were assigned to our horses, according to our ability and experience – Cheyenne to Cezar, a dark brown horse with a white star, and me to Cody, a registered paint, who was actually a dark bay with a thin white blaze and a couple of white feet.

Once everyone was mounted we all took turns walking and jogging in the arena so Ken and Randy Sue could evaluate our riding abilities. Some took a lesson before going out on the trails while others took a mini clinic to brush up on their riding skills.

Cheyenne left on a trail ride with four other Rangeriders (ages 6 – 13) and two wranglers. My group of four adults and two wranglers set out following a trail along the Drowsy Water Creek through aspens, willows and cottonwoods. There were lots of wild flowers in the high mountain meadows – purple lupine, Texas Blue Bonnet, purple aster, pink wild rose, umbrella plant, Mariposa lily – because of heavy winter snows in the mountains and more runoff than usual that year.

We rode through lodge pole pine forests up to the top of a mountain where we could see the towns of Granby one way and Hot Sulphur Springs in the other direction. The Colorado River zigzagged back and forth through the valley below like a ribbon stitching together the two mountain ranges on either side.

Lunch was ready when we returned to the ranch. I elected to go on an afternoon ride where we did some loping to a ridge with an unbelievable view. The sage brush–covered hills, very blue sky, and snow-mantled mountain peaks stretching off into the distance were breathtaking. Justin Fosha, our wrangler, pointed out black marks on the aspen where elk had eaten the bark during the winter. He also taught us to see how deep the snow had been the previous year.

Cheyenne was involved all afternoon with more riding, fishing and archery, and then she and her friends went swimming until it was time to get ready for dinner.

Country dancing in the tepee dance hall followed dinner. Skirts twirled and boots stomped as Ken called out the steps, and the staff encouraged everyone to dance. Cheyenne and I stayed until the music stopped. We dragged ourselves home to our lodge, exhausted, but happy.

The pleasant day temperatures dipped down in the evening until it was quite chilly. We snuggled under our quilts – after eating the chocolate mints on our pillows, and never stirred until morning!

Drowsy Water Ranch offers "valet service" which means your horses are groomed, saddled and bridled – just waiting for you to step into the stirrup. The usual rides last 1–1/2 to 2 hours to all day and never follow the same trail twice. The ranch borders thousands of acres of backcountry and the Arapahoe National Forest so the selection of trails is endless. Wildlife sighted on the ranch includes mule deer, elk, coyotes, golden and bald eagles, antelope, black bears and moose. In fact, one night I was awakened around midnight by the sound of heavy hoof beats on the gravel drive just outside our window. It sounded loud enough to be a horse, but Ken told me the next morning that it was probably one of the moose that had been seen in the area.

Depending on the day, half day and all day trail rides are offered for both adults and Rangeriders. Buckaroos (children five and under) are also encouraged to try supervised horseback riding with a counsellor. In fact, Buckaroos spend most of the day and those evenings with scheduled hayrides with counsellors while their parents are enjoying other activities.

Cookouts, ranch steer penning, sunrise breakfasts, fly fishing clinics, mountain biking and the Rangeriders Gymkhana all take place each week at Drowsy Water Ranch while river floating, a massage, golfing, boating, and shopping are available nearby.

Do as little or as much as you want! Just hang out or try to do it all! It's your choice!

To book a stay at the Drowsy Water Ranch, please see the Hidden Trails website for details at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/co_drowsey.aspx

Or call the HiddenT rails office Toll Free at 1-888-9-TRAILS (888-987-2457).
If you live overseas - you can Skype them at Skype:hiddentrails
Their extensive website has hundreds of equestrian vacations all over the world. www.hiddentrails.com
The staff is very knowledgeable and will guide you to the right vacation for your riding ability and budget.

Exploring Catalonia on horseback

admin — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 01:07:00 GMT

Riding in Spain by Jim Keeble

‘Imagine you’re having sex,’ shouts Mick.
I try not to think too deeply about this, given that my partner is a large brown horse. But I do start to rise and fall in time with the trotting. It’s not exactly sex, more survival, but it is a lot more comfortable than before.
I love horse riding. The only problem is, I’ve not done it enough and I’m not as good as I’d like. Which is why I’ve decided to head to the Garrotxa region in the Spanish Pyrenees and ride in the hills for a week. Arriving at the lodge, a restored 15th century farmhouse half an hour up a narrow track on the crest of an oak-clad ridge, I feel a little intimidated. Everyone else in the seven-person group seems to ride every weekend, and often during the week. Before breakfast.
On the first night I drink to calm my nerves, consuming a little more than my share of the excellent local red wine. I awake to mist pirouetting up the valley, and the naying of horses eager for my blood. Mick Peters comes into the breakfast room.
‘We ride,’ he proclaims, as Genghis Khan must have done to the Mongol hordes.

Mick is an ex-farmer from the UK and he’s been in Spain for eighteen years. He has the patience of a saint and looks a little like Butch Cassidy, which might explain why the women in the group seem to respond particularly well. Most of his guests are English, German and Dutch. The Spanish, he says, don’t ride much. Riding is still considered an aristocratic pursuit in Spain, not for the ‘hoi polloi’. We, in contrast, are highly ‘hoi polloi’. There’s me, Paul Reeder and Denise Clarke from Limehouse, East London, German nurse Carmen and her daughter Steffi, German physio Karin, and businessman Helmut.
We’re due at the stables below the house at 10am. And yes, the Germans are there first, but beyond this observation any nationalism is non-existent. In fact we’re all getting on very well. They’ve kept quiet about soccer.
Each morning we have to prepare our steeds, check their hooves, talcum powder them, saddle them and harness them. My horse is called Pulida, which means ‘clean’, although with my amateur coat-brushing she rarely seems to be. Pulida, as Mick reassures me, is a gentle beast and seems highly sympathetic when I try to put the saddle on her the wrong way round. Before we set out Mick explains some important rules.
‘If you drop something and we stop, that’s a bottle of champagne. If you fall off, that’s a bottle of champagne.’
I ready myself to buy a case.

The countryside we ride into is gently spectacular. These ancient volcanic foothills are thickly wooded, laced with medieval villages and countless paths devoid of people. Garrotxa means ‘land difficult to walk upon’ but the horses, born and raised in the Pyrenees, are as sure-footed as a Riverdance line-up. Mick keeps us moving. ‘Trot!’ and ‘Canter!’ are words to loosen my sphincter. But our first day’s ride is relatively easy - three hours in the saddle, taking in a ruined 13th century monastery where we eat oranges and gaze up at snow-tipped Pyrenean peaks.
The week is well-planned - a full day’s ride followed by a half day in the saddle and plenty of time to recover. I find sitting on horseback surprisingly relaxing, a time for happy contemplation, lulled by clopping hooves. On the longest day we ride to the medieval village of Besalú, where we tie our horses by the river and swagger into town like desperadoes to eat sandwiches. In all we spend seven hours in the saddle and cover 25 kilometers.
‘Como esta tu culo?’, asks Mick’s Spanish wife Rosie on our return. How is your backside?
Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt. But my back does. And calves. And knees, and thighs and arms. My head feels fine though. Until I have another evening on Mick’s wine. Flushed with equestrian success we sink several bottles and end up singing by the fire, a demonic Anglo-Germanic choir howling out Elvis Presley songs until the small hours. There is, I muse over yet another bottle of Vino Tinto, still hope for a united Europe.
Back in the saddle, my first ever gallop is the most exhilarating thing I’ve done since riding down two flights of stairs on a plastic tractor aged five. I even keep my eyes open.

On my last night I sit by the fire feeling more than a little pleased with myself. I begin to wonder if I might stay on to try the subsequent week long trail ride, a trip which several members of the group are doing, where you travel on horseback from the hills, via small hotels, as far as the Mediterranean.
It can’t be that difficult, I decide. After all, it’s like having sex. For eight hours a day, every day, for six days.
Maybe next time.

This trip can be booked with Hidden Trails, a specialist in equestrian vacations all over the world.
You can call toll free at 1-888-9-TRAILS or contact them on Skype at skype:hiddentrails .
You can also see details on this trip including rates and trip date on their website at: http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/spain_catalonia_explorer_ride.aspx

On Peruvian Pasos in Argentina

admin — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 00:57:00 GMT

Automatic Horses by Jasper Winn
It’s rare to come across something totally new in the world of horses. Because horses are four legged and conservative creatures it’s inevitable that most riding experiences are going to be variations on the usual walk-trot-canter-gallop theme, with, maybe, a bit of jumping thrown in.

But I’d just mounted a Peruano Paso horse, and ridden off down a sand track. And at the point where there should have been a transition from walk to trot something unexpected happened. Or rather didn’t happen. With a touch from my heels, the horse’s speed doubled and then close to trebled but almost nothing changed under the saddle. There was no trot action, no jerking around, no two-stroke beat. Just an increase in speed and the very faintest feeling of the animal undulating across the ground.

The Peruano Paso is famous for its ‘pace,’ and this smooth gait, I realized, made it the equivalent of a luxury saloon car with independent suspension, cruise control, automatic gearbox and, for all I knew, quadraphonic CD-changer and air conditioning.

There are, of course, a number of variations on the ‘extra pace’ theme. Icelandic horses have the tolt. Some Asian horses are born with a natural extended walk that can glide them along at the speed of a trotting horse. Occasionally, too, Barbs in Morocco have an equally smooth extra pace. Whilst the Americas have the Tennessee Walking Horse, the Missouri Foxtrotter and the American Saddle Horse.

According to some authorities the natural ability to pace, tolt, rack, lateral trot, speed walk or whatever the extra gear is packaged as is passed on genetically. In the case of the Peruano Paso the lateral pace – with the legs on either side moving together in a smooth and speedy forward momentum – are the result of three hundred years of selective breeding based on the Barb, Andaluse and Asturian horses brought from Spain by the conquistadores and the early Iberian colonists. Peruanos were prized for their ability to cover long distances at speeds averaging 18 kph and – still in the paso pace – up to 21 kph, and with almost no effort required from the rider.

The Estancia Sierra Chicas in Argentina’s province of Cordoba is part of a history going back to the region’s first settlers in 1573, the farms of the Jesuit missions, and the silver mines of the Andes. The area was famous for breeding the large, pack mules used to carry the silver across the Andes to the coast. The 6,000 acres of the estancia are used for raising cattle and four generations of the Begg family have used Peruano Pasos for overseeing their stock and directing the work of the estancia’s gauchos. They also run riding holidays from the colonial estancia’s main house with its flagged floors, hunting prints on the walls and bedrooms furnished with antiques.

We were a mixed group, all of us come to ride with brothers Robin and Kevin Begg for a weekend. Piotr was an experienced horseman from Poland, Florencia from Buenos Aires was a friend of the family, whilst Jenny from England was checking out luxury estancias across Argentina for a travel company. Kate and Aine from Cork had never ridden before, but were assured that Argentina was the best place to start.

We had arrived at an opportune moment, just in time for the annual yerra, the branding of the year’s crop of steers. Even as we breakfasted our horses, most Criollo but with a trio of Peruano Paso amongst them, were driven in and lined up along the yard wall. The horses were saddled with English-style cavalry saddles each overlaid with a thick sheepskin in the Argentine way.

“The most important thing to remember is these horses have very soft mouths, so they neck rein, and you need almost no contact,” Robin stressed to Kate and Aine. As we rode out to branding, a few miles away across the hills, I rode beside Robin who explained how they kept the horses for the guests well schooled. “We rotate them through the gauchos, so they spend as much time working cattle and being ridden by our riders as they do with guests and that keeps them right.”

We tied the horses up in the shade of the trees beside the corral. Many of the gauchos were neighbors who had ridden over for a day of helping in the lassoing in exchange for the pleasure of a barbeque, with plenty of wine and singing. Working on foot each man had swung a braided rawhide lasso. As a black steer was driven out into the stone walled corral one gaucho or another would step forward and as it ran past flick out a loop and – as often as not – neatly rope the animal’s two front legs, rolling the bullock neatly over and allowing other men to run in and hold it down whilst it was branded with the sizzling sound and acrid smell of burning hair.

The men worked through the cattle at a spanking rate, despite the hot sun. Robin and Kevin’s father had arrived to oversee the branding. Having welcomed his visiting neighbors, and seeing that things were going well he suggested that we ride a tour of the outlying country of the estancia. A group of us rode off across the Sierra, through the scrubby paja brava grass. The land rolled and tumbled like the Wicklow hills as we paced along with Mr Begg pointing out landmarks and recounting the history of the region or pausing to identify a far-off bird. “We’ve got condors here, and humming birds, too and there are deer and boar and puma, and fox of course.”

Our return to the yerra was well timed. The gauchos had marked the last bullock, and there were great plates of meat – steaks, sausages, ribs, black puddings – being carried from the fire to the white clothed tables set up under the trees. Bottles of Los Potreros’ own label wine were uncorked.

The air of fiesta continued after we had ridden back to the farm and swum and taken a siesta. Aine and Kate were ecstatic at having become riders. Ambling along beside them at various times during the day I’d sympathized with their agonized demands as to why holding the reins correctly had to be so complicated. And I’d encouraged them on through the agonies of learning to trot, (the Peruanos were too valuable to be demoted to schoolmasters and so both girls were mounted on patient and well schooled Criollos).

Kevin and Robin put in time to give them subtle tuition on a need to know basis, so that as complete beginners they were able to ride along with the group at the groups pace, even if at some cost to dignity and comfort when trotting. Kate and Aine’s joy at having seen the countryside from on top of a horse, and the group’s general happiness spilled over into an evening of singing and then tango dancing across the rugs and wooden floor of the elegant sitting room in the main house. The hunting prints on the walls shook and trembled in time to stamping feet. And there were Polish hunting songs and Irish ballads and Argentine folk poems.

Despite the late night there was an early start next morning when Kevin, Piotr and I saddled up just past dawn to go on an extended ride across wilder neighboring lands, and deep into the Sierra Chicas. The girls contemplated a day by the swimming pool and a shorter ride out with one of the gauchos. This ability to provide activities for groups of very different abilities was a strong point, I suggested to Kevin as we rode over the hills to meet with a gaucho from the neighboring estancia who was going to guide us through a maze of valleys, woods and steep hills. Between them the Begg family had worked out that riding holidays run in a distant part of the world needed to offer variety and unique attractions. So once a year they ran a two week riding holiday aimed at beginners. For experienced riders they had come up with idea of polo treks. “Rather than sitting around in a polo school waiting to get a brief period on a horse, we ride around neighboring estancias where they play polo and have a game– even beginner ball and stickers, can play – and then we ride on,” explained Kevin, “so that you get much more time in the saddle.”

At other times of the year they run camping and estancia stay trips for those keen to do long distance. And in the middle of summer – January in the southern hemisphere - at the time of the full moon horses are saddled after dark and riders head out into the moonlight. Whilst another ride each May takes guests across the mountains by horse to find vantage points above the route used by the annual world rally primes to give a grandstand view of the cars hurtling along the precipitous dirt tracks.

We’d ridden throughout the morning, with a good gallop across broken country when our gaucho guide’s pack of dogs set off in pursuit of something unseen - puma, boar or deer - in the thick scrub and copses of a deep valley. We’d ridden along a ridge between two remote estancias as the same gaucho described a late night gun fight between cattle rustlers and stockmen. In the middle of the day we rode down from the hills to a remote bar, and tied up the horses under a tree and ordered up ice cold beers. We still had a long ride to get back to the estancia, but with the estancia’s horses the difference was between setting off to drive across Ireland in a rattle trap car on the edge of breakdown and with non existent suspension, or setting off on the same journey in a touring coupe with all you could ask in the way of modern comfort. Except, in the case of the Peruano Paso horse, it’s everything you could ask in the way of the ancient comfort produced by generations of breeding and a life time of good schooling.

On horseback from Argentina to Chile

admin — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 00:34:00 GMT

Across the Andes by Horse by Jasper Winn

“The first thing we’ve got to do is bring in the horses,” Jane told us over early morning coffee on the veranda. That sounded straightforward. Grab a few headcollars, nip out to the field, rattle a feed-bucket and we’d have them in and saddled up in twenty minutes or so. No?

Well, no, not in Argentina’s northern Patagonia. Not when the ‘field’ was the hundreds of acres of rough country behind us, where the estancia’s horses were turned out to graze. In fact we’d have to take other horses just to be able to go out and round up the mounts we actually wanted to use for the coming days.

Four of us – Ed, Helen, Isabelle and I – downed a last swig of coffee. Ed had worked, in a past life, as a ranch manager in Venezuela and rode well. Isabelle travelled for work across South America and was an enthusiastic convert to horse travel. Helen played polo in the north of England and hunted through the winter, making her a natural when it came to horsing around in Argentina. We were preparing to leave on a 360-kms ride, led by Jane Williams, across the Andes. Starting from the wide plains of Argentina we’d climb through forests of monkey puzzle trees to cross the world’s longest mountain range under the cones of snow-dusted volcanoes before riding into steep valleys and switchback tracks on the Chilean side.

Jane owns the 6,000 hectares of the estancia in Patagonia’s remote Lake District. Originally from London, she married an Argentine and, after her husband’s death in an accident, continues to run the family estate. It’s a hard, frontier life, dependent on gauchos - mounted on horses and expert with lassos - to work the estancia’s 700-head of cattle. It’s a land where the comforts of the ‘big house,’ with its china tea-sets and bustling kitchens and carefully tended gardens are overshadowed by the vastness of the surrounding steppe country and the extremes of weather. Behind the farm condors roost on the towering cliffs. Wild boars root up the lawns at night. A puma, one of the Mapuche Indian cowboys reported as I ate breakfast, had been seen earlier in the herbaceous border.

Jane’s rides are a by-word for good horses, plenty of fast riding and lots of fun. Especially fun. In Europe – in Ireland – it’s becoming more and more difficult to have good, rip-roaring fun on horses; there’s too much traffic on our roads, and too little access to off-road riding land. And there are too many concerns about safety and insurance and vets’ bills to get in the way of plain in the saddle ‘fun’ fun. But in Argentina, and particularly on this estancia, experienced riders can still get a kick out of taking their own line at speed across country, or helping out on the day-to-day work of rounding up cattle and horses. There’s often the chance of putting up a wild boar and - if the dogs are on the ball – getting a two or three kilometre run in its wake. Or you can ride across the Andes.

Early the next morning we saddled up the horses we’d rounded-up the previous day. We filled our saddle-bags and tied them behind the Argentine-style saddles with their two cinch-girths, leather panels and thick cushioning of sheepskins. “There’s a poncho – they’re wool, rainproof – for each of you, and, also…” Jane eyed us sternly, “…a tin mug. Look after it, because you’ll need if for coffee, wine, water, and there are no spares.”

We left the estancia along a sand track shaded by trees mature enough to measure the time back to when the Bariloche region was first settled by Europeans in the late 19th century. The trees were certainly older than the peace treaty signed with the local Mapuche Indians in the early 20th century. Jane’s head horseman, Juan, who rode with us, and the other gauchos working on the estancia, were all Mapuche.

The land opened up before us. A stiff Patagonian wind blew up the dust from under our horses’ hooves. I’d been given Huilipan, a 15.3 or so, bay, Criollo-cross gelding. “He’s named after the Indian I bought him off,” Jane had told me, “he’s 23 years old, but nobody’s told him that.” She was right. Under me, Huilipan had the feel of a good eventer in the prime of life. Active walk, a good sharp trot, and – when Jane, as was her wont, suddenly broke into a canter and we accelerated to keep up – a fast pace across the broken ground with a handy fifth leg to skip him over holes and sudden drops and anything else the landscape threw up.

Our first day started us on exactly the fun, whooping and hollering kind of riding that Argentina does so well. But made even crazier by the increasing strength of the wind the higher we climbed. As we crested the highest hills and looked west to the distant Andes the wind snapped and banged at our hat brims, and tugged our horses’ manes and tails straight out to the side. Galloping into the gale’s teeth made it seem as if one was riding at twice one’s actual speed.

We got to our first campsite late in the afternoon. Horses were unsaddled and loosed to graze. A tarpaulin was stretched between two stunted trees as a windbreak. A fire lit, and steaks put to cook. The camp-master, Domingo, had set up tents and stools. We drank wine – from our tin mugs – as we warmed ourselves by the fire. Sasha, Jane’s Great Dane, who had quartered the ground ahead of us for the whole 40kms of riding lay exhausted at our feet. Tired, too, we slept that night in sleeping bags lain on top of the sheepskins from our saddles.

The routine of a long distance ride comes quickly, so natural does it feel. I woke to the smell of coffee brewing in a billy-can on the fire. The wind had died and it was dead calm. I pulled on some clothes and splashed cold water into my face. We all stood around the fire, with plates full of bacon and eggs. Tin mugs were filled with coffee. We stuffed our kit into the saddle-bags. Tacked up. And, whilst the morning was still cool, rode on.

On that second day we rode across flat land, fording wide, tumbling rivers, taking long canters, and jogging along through scrub. It was a social way to travel, with time to talk, or just ride in companionable silence. Jane pointed out caracaras foraging the grasslands and condors high above us. She dived off her horse at one point to pluck up a hairy armadillo from the bushes and show it to us before letting it free again. Midmorning we were joined by Manuel, a local policeman and horse-breaker. Much of his tack was hand-braided and decorated, as was his belt. His horse was a well-broken Criollo. Law-keeping in the hinterland of San Martin de Los Andes could, apparently, look after itself for a few days whilst he chose to ride along with us.

Jane’s trump card in running long distance rides lay in her good relations with the neighboring estancia owners, the Mapuche Indian villagers and numerous working gauchos for hundreds of kilometers around. Not only were we able to cross private estancia land, but our progress – important on this path-finding route across the Andes - was aided by locals who saddled up to guide our band across the land.

At this height nights were cold and mornings frosty. Shots of whiskey were added to our tin mugs’ contents. But days were blue-skied and warm. For the actual climb over the Tres Picos pass that marked our highest point, in crossing the Andes we were led by an Indian cacique – chief – on a small tough Criollo pony. He threaded us through a dark forest of lofty monkey puzzle trees - where Manuel gathered up pocketfuls of their piñon nuts to cook for supper - and then out onto a high ridge. Ahead of us lay Lanin volcano and the Chilean border, seemingly close, but still a long ride away. We arrived at the Chilean border at a canter, with volcanoes – one streaming smoke like a distant factory chimney - to both sides of us.

Even in South America taking horses back and forth across borders is difficult and time-consuming. So, at the frontier Jane’s horses turned back to Huechahue, driven as tight herd in front of Juan and Manuel, whilst we had our passports stamped before crossing over into Chile. Local horseman, and Jane’s friend, Rodolpho Coombs was waiting with a mob of Chileno horses for us. The change in the landscape was spectacular. Where the Argentina had been mainly flat and empty with long, open slopes to the Andes, on the Chilean side the landscape was steeper, and thickly wooded with narrow tracks threading between the trees and through cane breaks. The horses matched the landscape; smaller and closer-coupled, with saddles with high pommels and cantles. We were given big-rowelled spurs in Chilean style. The reins to the curb bits were thick ropes, ending in a wide strip of leather to be used as a crop.

With slower riding over the first few days, there was even more time for talking. Rodolpho and his horseman, Joel, both rode blacks with Andaluse-type heads. “Conquistadore’s horses,” Rodolpho pointed out, “because here in Chile our horses and our horsemanship are different from across the border in Argentina. There they have all the space of the pampas to breed horses, so a gaucho might have ten or twenty or a hundred horses. But here we have less land, so a huaso – a Chilean cowboy – will have only a few horses, and so we must work harder with what we have.” His horses were well-schooled, working off the leg, and on the bit. And this schooling, perhaps, not only because of his Chilean background. Because in the 1970s Rodolpho was an international showjumper and then chef d’equipe to the Spanish showjumping team. “I was in Ireland many times buying horses, and off course we came to Dublin horse show often. Tiempos Buenos - good times.”

Here, on the Chilean side, the villages of the Mapuche Indians were more frequent and busier. We rode past small fields cleared from amongst the trees. There were orchards. And the sound of hewing of wood into planks and beams for corrals and barns and water troughs. There were more rivers to cross, too, and being deeper and faster we rode the horses across swaying, narrow suspension bridges, one at a time. But in the valley bottoms amongst the trees there were long flats, like parkland, where we could give the Chileno horses their heads. Helen regularly wore her poncho, the thick, water- and wind-proof, black manta castilla. The rest of us took to calling her la furtiva – the outlaw. La Furtiva was a wild starter of races, and much given to riding-off in polo fashion to liven the same races up. Fun! Good horse fun.

Here in Chile our nights were spent in tents around the remote farm-houses where we dined by candle light. There were long swims in clear alpine lakes in the heat of the day. There was birdsong and stands of the native fuschia. And a sudden end to the ride. Just as we had ridden out of Huechahue eight days before and into the wilderness, so we rode back down a track, through a field of horses, and out in front of Rodolpho's house. We dismounted at the stables and unsaddled. Under a tree there was a jug of pisco sour, Chile’s potent national drink, waiting. “I hope,” said Jane, “you’ve all got your tin mugs still.”

This trip can be booked with Hidden Trails, a specialist in equestrian vacations all over the world. You can call toll free at 1-888-9-TRAILS or contact them on Skype at skype:hiddentrails .
You can also see details on this trip including rates and trip date on their website at: http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/argentina_andes_crossing.aspx

Riding in Spain: It’s not just another clinic

admin — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 23:06:00 GMT

An amateur dressage rider from Wyoming finds a clinic in Spain with Olympian Rafael Soto
By Darlene Vaughn

After a lifetime of dressage lessons, this was just one more. Or was it? I was mounted on a wonderfully well-trained Andalusian gelding, and I was in a foreign country listening to an Olympic medalist giving me riding instruction. As this realization hit, I caught my breath and tried to grab and hold every detail of what was happening.
As an amateur dressage enthusiast, I am part of the largest group pursuing the sport, and I have worked hard, taking lessons, going to shows, buying the correct tack and finding the horses that suited my level of expertise. Through Hidden Trails we discovered a wonderful riding center near Seville. Epona (named for an ancient Celtic goddess) is a family owned and operated equestrian center with dressage as one of its specialties. We both fell in love with the setting, the horses, the Garcia family and the great staff. After a number of visits “across the pond,” we also feel like family.
The winter of 2006 – 2007 offered an opportunity I could not resist, even though I would be travelling alone. Epona was hosting four dressage clinics with Rafael Soto, an Olympic silver medalist. He and his Andalusian stallion, Invasor, have been a crowd favorite with the international dressage community over the last decade. Rafael is a dedicated horseman living in southern Spain and spending most of his time at the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art in Jerez teaching and training. He has been to the United States only a few times to teach clinics, since he prefers to be at home with his family.
The second Sunday in February of last year found me with four other gals unpacking our riding clothes after traveling from Wyoming, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Wales and Malaga, Spain. We each had our own comfortable room in the hacienda on the grounds of Epona. Fernando Garcia, our host and one of the school’s owners and directors, loaded us quickly into a van and we were on our way to a typical Spanish restaurant in Carmona to get to know each other over a great meal. I learned Fernando’s riding resume included show jumping.

Preparation
Monday morning we began a marathon of preparation for our lessons with Rafael. We each had a private longe lesson and then small group lessons with head instructor Caty Garcia in the covered arena. The longe horses were so solid and rhythmic that we had only to pay strict attention to our positions and transitional cues.
One of the goals was to match each rider with the perfect horse for the week. I drew one of my favorites, Trajano, a bay Andalusian I had ridden on previous visits. With the number of highly trained horses among the 60 that are available at Epona, all of us were well-mounted in no time.
Caty is a talented and experienced instructor who has worked with many international competitors and holds some of the most coveted certifications in Europe. She was able to quickly discern our strengths and weaknesses as riders and, beginning with the basic gaits and a snaffle bridle, we climbed through the ladder of relaxation, obedience, lateral movements and, finally, collected work.
We are not upper-level riders, so it was a steep learning curve, impossible without these horses. Using leg yield and shoulder-in exercises to help us get a better feel for the connection of the hand to bit and supporting leg on the horse, we understood much clearer the concept of teamwork between horse and rider. Caty was persistent and committed that all work was done properly and in a manner that kept our horses and us happy and working toward the goal of Rafael’s lessons later that week. Most American riders do not get this opportunity, and I marveled at the huge steps forward we all made in our riding skills in such a short time.

Higher Education
The other director of the school, Jane, Fernando’s wife, used her marvelous culinary skills and served us a delicious luncheon, after which we observed the traditional Spanish siesta time. Jane is another talented rider and instructor herself. Although she leaves most of that to her daughters now, she was just as excited as we were about our progress during the week. After another lesson in the early evening and another wonderful meal, we retired for the night a bit sore but totally satisfied in the food department. This was to be duplicated for the entire stay.
Tuesday we traveled to Jerez and the Royal Andalusian School of Equestrian Art (Real Escuela Andaluza del Arte Ecuestre) to watch a performance by the professors and students. It brought tears to our eyes. Applications for admission come from all over the world, but few students are accepted each year at this government supported school. Vivi Gracia, Caty’s sister (Fernando and Jane’s other daughter) has juts completed four years there. A bit of Jerez’s famous sherry made for a sleepy ride home, but soon we were back on the horses with more lessons.
By Wednesday, Caty had us graduate to full bridles, and we began to attempt some of the finer movements of our capable horses. This meant complete instruction in how to hold the double reins and the different uses of the snaffle and curb bits. For those who have never ridden a passage, piaffe or flying change, the experience can be overwhelming – lots of smiles, laughs and even shouts of joy.
Thursday morning, we had another lesson but, that afternoon, we went into Seville to discover a Spanish tack store and to enjoy the art of Flamenco dancing. After four days of intense training, we were all glad to have some time off.
Clinic with Rafael Soto
Friday was the day Rafael was coming. Each student had two scheduled private lessons with him on Friday and again on Saturday. This was his fourth clinic at Epona, but you could feel the excitement in the air. The Gracia family and the other staff members at Epona are very respectful of Rafael for his riding, training and instructing accomplishments. Needless to say, the five of us were excited and more than a bit apprehensive. Would we be good enough? Would we be able to follow his instruction? Would our horses listen to us? We had our boots polished and the staff had our horses groomed, tacked and ready to go.
As we had been told, Rafael was a wonderful clinician, speaking fine English for those of us knowing only that language and explaining in Spanish for our gal from Malaga. He talked us though the basics. Then, as the lessons progressed, he allowed us to try our hand at the upper-level movements. He also concentrated on lateral movements to engage our horses. Rafael directed us to do a bit of walk, then a forward trot, using leg yield and shoulder-in. After concentrating on straightness on the long sides, bending correctly on the corners and many transitions within the gaits, we did our canter work, using counter canter as a gauge for our riding.
Toward the end of the lesson, we were encouraged in the upper-level movements. I was particularly impressed by how much preparation time was used for any change a rider requested. The shoulder-ins began at the end of the short side, which made the transition much smoother and easier for the horse. By Saturday afternoon, we were all doing flying changes on a serpentine topped off by a few steps of passage and piaffe and, of course, we had to do the Spanish walk with our Andalusians. We all felt like real dressage riders and cheered each other on throughout the sessions.
I was honored to sit with the family and our distinguished instructor at lunch on Saturday. “I think you could not find better horses in the world for our lessons here at Epona,” Rafael told us. “Without them, I could not do my job, and it would be impossible to do this kind of training.”
We ended our lessons with a ceremony and diplomas for the five of us. We were oh so tired but oh so happy that we had had an experience we will never forget. I treasure the week, the good friends I made and the excellent dressage instruction. I brought home so many new training tools to use with my own horse. I also understand the optimum method of rider education is the importance of learning on a trained mount before trying to transfer that schooling to a less experienced horse.

You can book this riding clinic with Hidden Trails, a specialist in equestrian vacations worldwide.
Call toll free at 1-888-9-TRAILS – or check out this trip on their website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/spain_andalusia_epona_clinic.aspx

Saddle up partner, it's time for a taste of cowboy life Saskatchewan-style.

admin — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 22:24:00 GMT

Nestled in the Saskatchewan River valley, along the shores of Lake Diefenbaker, is a working ranch, where city folk can trade in their suits and cars for a cowboy hat and a horse.

"It's everybody's dream to be a cowboy or play a cowboy for a time," says George Gaber, who bought the cattle ranch in 1996 and opened it up to visitors from around the world.
A typical day at the ranch starts with breakfast, "a really hearty meal," at about 9 a.m., then it's time to saddle up the horses and hit the trails. It's about 8 miles up and down the hills of the river valley to reach the cattle west of the guest ranch, says Gaber.
"It's quite a ways to go," says Gaber. "We're out there almost for six, seven hours, depends on the riders."
"We find the cattle. We have to check them, sometimes we have to rope them and treat them."
There are times when fences need to be repaired or posts need to pounded back into the ground. In June, the cattle is rounded up on horseback for branding. Gaber says everyone has the chance to learn how to rope and wrestle the calves.
On Oct. 10, Gaber says the fall roundup will start. That's when the cattle are rounded up on horseback and brought from the summer pastures to the main ranch.
It's the true cowboy way of life, says Gaber, and if you don't know how to ride, he'll teach you.
"It doesn't take very long and you're going to love it," he says.
If you think it sounds a bit like the 1991 Billy Crystal movie "City Slickers," where three friends spend their holiday driving cattle from New Mexico to Colorado, you'd be right.
In fact, the movie was an inspiration for Gaber, who was born and raised on a farm in Germany.
"I was looking myself into this kind of holiday, after I watched the movie 'City Slickers,' that's how everything got started," he recalls. "That how I actually ended up here in Saskatchewan."
It was 1995 when he visited Canada and fell in love with the country, "especially with the southwest, with the Prairie and wide open space."
A year later, Gaber bought the ranch. It's just over 1,780 hectares, with more than 8 miles of waterfront along Lake Diefenbaker and about 100 pairs in a cow-calf operation.
In addition to riding the range, there's swimming, boating, canoeing and fishing. The largest rainbow trout in the world, weighing in at 19.78 kilograms, was caught in Lake Diefenbaker in 2007, although that could fall to another rainbow caught in Diefenbaker earlier this month. The latest weighs in at a hefty 21.77 kilograms and is waiting to be certified as the record.
The evenings end with a campfire under the stars. If roasting marshmallows isn't your thing, there's also a saloon on the ranch.
Gaber says there's no set program.
"You're on holiday, you're supposed to relax and supposed to get out of this day-to-day hectic life," he says.
"People get all excited to come here and they ask 'What's now, what's going on next, what do we do now.' Second day they slow down and third day . . . they're really relaxed. After three or four days you have to wake them up in the morning or they're not going to be there in time for breakfast," he laughs. -

You can book this working ranch vacation via Hidden Trails - an agency specializing in equestrian vacations all over the world.
Call toll free 1-888-9-TRAILS or have a look on their website at http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/sk_river_valley_ranch.aspx

Natural Horsemanship

atomac — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:32:00 GMT

Hallo

Just got back from a Natural Horsemanship course based in Southern Sweden. Slightly different from the more traditional English and Western styles, but great fun. Learnt only a little about the natural horsemanship discipline, but they were incredible horses (Swedish Cold Bloods), a large heavy breed, primarily for dragging logs out of the forest, but very calm and forgiving of an inexperienced rider in the matter. The hosts were fantastic and a presented numerous culinary delights every night - even for vegetarians. The scenary and rides were something else, more than 30000 hectare of remote forest almost for the sole benefit of the riders with plenty of lakes to rest and take in the sights. With the variation of the weather something new could always be seen from the same viewpoint. Apart from the usual trekking paths in the forest there was plenty of opportunity for cantors and gallops and the chance to get lost while the guide tries to scout out a new route - we always made it back before dark (just)

There was a variety of wild life to see such as red squirrels, roe deer and moose with calf. Other wildlife in the forest such as lynx and badger I did not get to see. Nor did I see Trolls or Tomtas but I was assured they were about looking out from under large flat rocks and dolmens. Only down side was the Swedish cavalry saddle that takes some getting use to.

Ecuador: Avenue of the Volcanoes Ride

admin — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 02:11:00 GMT

By Bernadette & Stefan Basler, Switzerland

Vacation in Ecuador… are you talking about Galapagos? Riding in Ecuador coming from Switzerland?
Who in the world would ever think of something like that?
Aren’t there more exiting rides available all over the world? Canada, Kenya, Botswana, Tanzania, Namibia, Jordan, Spain, Portugal?
I can assure you … we’ve done them all!
For many years my wife Bernadette and I, have spent time riding all around the world. We started taking riding vacations long before we bought our own two Arabians. Being Swiss, we first visited Portugal and Spain, since they are so close to home and because of the warm weather there.
Then we decided to do a more “exotic” ride in Jordan, in the Wadi Rum in the footsteps (well - hoof prints) of Lawrence of Arabia. We felt like Peter O’Toole and got addicted to the desert. As a consequence, the following three years we were “deserting around,” mainly riding in Namibia’s desert. Then we visited other African countries like Tanzania, and we also swam the Okavango-Delta on horseback.
In 2009, we wanted to discover something new and just by coincidence we choose Ecuador, because the volcanoes looked nice in the pictures. We had more-or-less no idea what we should expect, even after visiting the homepage of Hidden Trails.
It was a long flight from Switzerland and the airline did it’s best to make us suffer. ☺
Eventually, we arrived in Quito. We were picked up by our “Chief-Chagra” Gabriel around midnight.
The following day we stayed at La Alegria, tried horses and discovered neighboring villages and local farms before we got ready for a two-day trip around “el Corazon” volcano. (elevation approximately 4’000 meters)

During this trip, we were overwhelmed by the variety of landscapes: farmland, alpine terrain and cloud forest with lots of greenery and different kinds of wild orchids. Have you ever ridden above the clouds? Have you ever galloped through a city (Machachi) next to buses and heavy traffic? We couldn’t believe that all of this was possible.
The following day we climbed up to even higher elevations and finally arrived at the old crater of the volcano Rumiñahui with it’s green slopes. It was hard work for the horses… carrying us up to an altitude of over 4’200 meters. During the climb, even Gabriel’s excellently trained horses sometimes got out of breath.
Once we reached the top -- here it was, shining out of the clouds -- the mighty Cotopaxi Volcano rising up to around 5’900 meters. Unbelievable, it is on par with Kilimanjaro!
Getting down on the other side of the mountain again was hard for the horses, but harder for me as I am afraid of heights!
The following days, we rode further and further into the backcountry of Cotopaxi, a protected area of Ecuador that is home to the Cotopaxi Volcano, and finally ended up in an area without roads where even the 4x4 that carried our gear could not follow any more.
The scenery started to look more and more like the highlands of Scotland with clouds hanging low, giving the landscape a mystic feel and when the sun came out we were speechless. The swampy ground and the steep terrain (up and down hill all the time) made it very hard for our super horses, well … actually for all of us!
I can assure you that our two “spoiled” Arabians at home could not even STAND on a swampy hillside like that!
We spent nights at local farms and experienced “real Chagra-Life.” No luxury hotel stuff. Coming from the so-called civilization, this was a really different experience. Fortunately we carried all the food with us and sometimes a bottle of wine mysteriously appeared during our simple dinners. I have to admit that I missed a cold beer after these long days in the saddle!
It was a great spectacle to see how the Chagras lasso wild horses and bring them down to check them. They also showed us the cattle and the bulls that they care for. I can assure you. These are real wild bulls.

These five days out in the backcountry were really special. We experienced the purest Chagra culture, beautiful landscapes, mystic weather (Swiss-like!) and the riding itself on these fantastic horses. We spent 8 hours each day on a horse, which is hard for soft-boiled tourists. This is the real deal and Gabriel’s excellent lambskin saddles really saved our buts!
We give our compliments to the horses, to Gabriel for telling us all about the Chagra culture and for the two guides Guido and Jorge for training the horses so well and for taking such good care of them and of us! Our only regret was not being able to speak Spanish. I am sure the two guides could have given us a lot more interesting information about life in Ecuador’s outback in their native language.
I could continue telling you a lot more about this fantastic trip, but I hope that the pictures will speak for themselves.
Be assured: Ecuador is a rider’s paradise.
We have never seen such a variety of landscapes and such excellent horses.
Not to forget of course the very nice host family.

You can book this trip vie Hidden Trails, a company specializing in equestrian vacations all over the world. Details about this trip are on their website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/ecuador_volcano_avenue_haciendas.aspxx

The Mane Attraction in Lot - Rocamadour, France

admin — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 21:54:00 GMT

By Judy Armstrong

A golden tower of honeycomb stone, a lush meadow blushing with poppies, an arched bridge, lumpy hills, rushing river. The train is moving slower as it approaches medieval Gourdon. Now the window shows a pristine sky, swooping swallows, a steep-pitched barn roof.

Five hours after sliding away from Paris, the train stops. I emerge into the warm air, the soft sun, the gentle ambience of the Lot. Hans Vroom, a Dutchman who fell in love with, then moved to, this area seven years ago with his family, greets me by the station steps. “We visited France by car and motorbike, spent a lot of time here,” he says.
“We loved the climate and the places of historic and tourist interest. We also had horses, so we decided to combine our two passions, by taking guests to explore the Lot on horseback.”So, this is why I am here. Travelling by human power is the ultimate in eco-friendly travel, but moving through wooded landscape on a grass-fuelled animal is surely as green as it gets. And while travel for its own sake is a joy, having a focus makes it even better.
Recently, I was invited to visit Rocamadour, one of France’s most popular destinations for pilgrims and tourists. The churches, the chapels and castles crammed onto a rock face looked beautiful, fascinating, unique – but I dislike arriving by car, staring at a ‘sight’, ticking the box and departing.

Countryside Saunter
Hans, through his North America representatives Hidden Trails, soon solved this sight-seeing dilemma. One of the trail rides through the Lot has Rocamadour as its heart: we would saunter through the countryside to this holy shrine, pay our respects and ride away. By travelling upon narrow wooded paths, through complex woodland, via a jigsaw of lanes, streams and meadows, we would also breath, smell and feel the Lot as a car-tourist never can.

The riding center, home to Hans, Hermina and their seven year old daughter Soleil, is a short drive from Gourdon, near the border of the Lot and Dordogne. It is fresh off the page of a calendar, with a honey-colored stone farmhouse and gîtes, vivid with roses, crimson shutters and grape vines. In the fields around the house, 18 horses graze; in the cobblestone yard, two Great Danes doze.
The gîtes are often occupied by families who don’t ride at all – the area is rich in interest, from cave paintings to châteaux. But mostly, the center attracts people who want to combine gastronomy – this is the land of frois gras, walnuts, duck and truffles – with exploration on horseback.

“On a horse, you have time to absorb the landscape,” says Hans, pouring chilled rosé. “Last week we were cantering along and in front of my nose, a deer crossed the track. It looked, my horse looked, I looked, and everyone continued happily. It was quite wonderful.” Hermina joins us on the sun-warm terrace. She is pretty and feels like everyone’s best friend within minutes of arriving. Hans is hearty and happy, with a pencil-thin strip of a beard; he competes in endurance rides up to 55 miles long and is as fit as his horses. Soleil is a wild, woodland creature: pale, fast-moving, with a wide smile. I don’t have them to myself for long. Soon Tom, a Norwegian celebrating his 50th birthday, arrives and we talk long into the night. This is Tom’s first trip to France and he is already overwhelmed by the beauty and diversity. Hans laughs. “Our guests arrive from all over the world, and most of them come back. A week in the Lot is never enough. So think of this as an introduction, not a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Tom agrees with him. Hans has matched him to Pegasos, a gentle grey giant who takes to Tom like a child to chocolate. They quickly become inseparable and by the end of the week Tom, having reluctantly abandoned his plans top smuggle Pegasos home in his hand luggage, is planning a return visit.

One night, sitting on blue chairs in the shade of vines, he sighs, “I have a friend at work who, when I said I was coming to the Lot, described exactly this. Exactly. Golden stone, vines, flowers, peace, silence. It’s perfect.”

For two days we ride from the center with Hans’ French friends and on our own. We visit the nearby village of Lantis with its 12th-century château; swim the horses in the local lake and gallop through meadows and orchid-rich woods. Tom is in heaven: “Riding holidays make me feel alive. It’s the contrast between sitting in an office tapping at a computer, and galloping through woodland. It’s amazing. I love it.”

On the Road
A major factor in this is Hans’ horsemanship. Instructions, tack (the saddles are Stubbens!), horses and their care – it’s all of the highest quality, with Hans inspiring confidence in beginners and experts alike.

The night before departure, we are joined by Americans Liz and Stephen, in France for a fortnight. “Some time ago I joined a horse-riding holiday in the Loire Valley, and I really wanted Stephen to experience something similar, to feel part of the history,” says Liz. “Oh, we are happy to be here. And to have sunshine! If you’d seen the rain in Paris…”

There is excitement in the morning as we prepare to leave. Cooling gel pads are placed under the horses’ saddles for comfort in the heat and water bottles are filled. Hermina will meet us with lunch, but we have a far distance to travel first.

Hans leads our little cavalcade out of the hamlet, past red poppies and hay meadows, past Lantis and the château. It’s like riding through an Impressionist painting. Soon we are on new ground, in oak woods thick with orchids and honeysuckle. Panache, my beautiful chocolate-colored horse, swings along sweetly, ears forward, enjoying the journey. I check my watch, then realize it is irrelevant. We’re on equine time now.

And so we ride to Rocamadour. Flowering broom and wild roses create swathes of yellow, flashes of pink. Most rivers have watermills – some converted, others derelict. Across valleys we glimpse sturdy churches and everywhere are pigeonniers. “Because it was once so poor, this is the only region in France where every peasant was allowed a pigeon tower,” explains Hans. Many have been rebuilt or absorbed into houses, retaining their form, but not their function. The pale stone reflects the light, making even dark corners feel sun-filled.

Gariottes, the beehive-like stone shelters for shepards, flank ancient paths; we ride sunken roads and duck under branches uncleared because few pass this way. There are 900 miles of bridleways in the Lot, with another 1500 miles in the Dordogne. With Hans, we’ll ride 150 miles this week, leaving plenty more trails to explore.

Nature’s Table
This first day, Hermina meets us at the lake Écoute s’il Pleut, near Gourdon. She has set up a picnic table by the bank of yellow iris; from the opposite shore, two fisherman stare in bewilderment. We take the horses into the lake to splash and drink, then cool down ourselves with a chilled beer. Local tomme cheese, cured meat, home-made terrine, eggs from Herrmina’s hens – it’s a feast.

While each day, each lunch, each night stop is different, they follow a similar theme; mellow countryside, varied riding, isolated hamlets, friendly faces. People are surprised to see us, happy to wish us bonne route, bonne courage. Gates are opened, traffic is stopped, horses are patted and photographed.

Accommodation is quirky. Le Moulin de Planiol, a converted watermill run by a Belgian couple, has donkeys, a swimming pool and haute cuisine with fine local wine. From La Gardelle, a sympathetic conversion of stables and barns near Rocamadour, we share a glorious dinner of duck with four French walkers, eating outside with a view over the valleys. In the evening, cicadas chirp and in the morning hot air balloons waft overhead. At Le Vieux Couvent, we are invited to a flower strewn banquet with a group of Canadian artists, and wander through a garden of herbs, pools and secret corners.

On route, as in the convent’s garden, flowers abound. Our horses’ hooves swish through wild thyme and mint, wild iris fill streambeds. We ride through woods of oak, chestnut and silver birch, up steep trails to walnut orchards, past beds ripe with strawberries. We see thousands of butterflies, a handful of deer and, to my horror, a snake. Hans is highly amused: I am more scared than Panache.

Physical highlights include the sculpted limestone gorge and silken stream of L’Ouysse; the scramble down the scree past sunken fountains, set to ease the thirst of pilgrims on their way to the sacred city; and the exhilarating climb up the steep cliffs of the Alzou canyon, opposite Rocamadour. The fortified 14th-century watermill of Cougnaguet, the churches and distant châteaux, the sleepy villages and woodland cabins, the busy rivers and placid pools - they ease the Lot into our blood, hearts and minds.

Awe-inspiring Sights
Of course, we visit our destination, Rocamadour. After a long day’s ride, we arrive in the late afternoon, when most of the tourists have gone home. Just as the travel brochures say, it’s truly extraordinary. We follow wide, stone stairs to the arched entrance, file silently through the soaring church and chapels, admire the Black Madonna and Child and listen, rapt, to Hans’ explanation of the sword in the rock.

We then read about the miracles on plentiful plaques, tiptoe over exquisite mosaic floors, smell the hot scent of the votive candles. Hans asks Stephen: “Do you have anything like this in America?” Stephen says, “Is that a trick question? And if we did, we’d probably turn it into a parking lot. It’s hilarious, and it breaks the spell. We buy ice-cream, laugh some more and return to the horses at La Gardelle.

We ride, we chat, we absorb the scenery. And by the time we arrive, four days later, back at the riding center, we realize something important. Rocamadour was the reason we came, but the star of this journey was not the churches on the rock. It was the horses, the people and, of course, the Lot itself.

Predictably, the week is over too soon. Tom is emotional as he pets Pegasos good-bye; I stroke Panache’s fine face and he stares back with deep black eyes. “This is the best horse and the best riding I have ever experienced,” declares Tom, still watching his new friend in the field. “Now I have to decide when to come back.”

The next morning, I share a final breakfast with Hermina. “You should stay,” she says, “Stay and help us with the horses, explore more tracks, spend the summer here.” I look at her, and am twisted with the thought. I should, Hermina, I should.

You can book this holiday with Hidden Trails -- Phone 1-888-9TRAILS or check the website at Ride to Rocamador
Hidden Trails offer over 400 equestrian vacations worldwide.

Interview with Patagonian Founding Father Descendant, Carol Jones

admin — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 00:09:00 GMT

Written by Shanie

If learning about the culture and history of your travel destination is important to you, then partaking in a guided horseback trip with Carol Jones is going to be an unforgettable experience. A person that exudes a warm and caring persona right off the bat, Carol has the makings for an excellent guide.
First, her knowledge of the area is in her blood. She is the granddaughter of United States Patagonian founding father, Jarred Jones. A character that ran with the likes of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Grandpa Jones was the beginning of generations of familial bonding with the Patagonian Steppe.
Second, the woman knows the area like the back of her hand. She is able to take her guests on amazing adventures into areas that are only seen by her and those she has invited. Her intimacy is immediately apparent in how she flows with the changing topography and chooses a place to rest.
Third, as a part of the trip, she and her ranch hands provide a truly authentic “gaucho experience”. You are able to tour her family’s farm, interact with the animals and get involved with the Argentine asado (BBQ), if you like.
Carol takes clients on multi-, full- and half-day trips. She is very adept at reading your abilities and level of comfort upon the horse and directs the day to fit the vibe accordingly. Experiencing Patagonia on horseback with Carol is an amazing adventure of animal interaction, historical stories and authentic culture.

Carol took the time to sit down and talk about her life, Patagonia and what a guided trip is all about. This is what she had to say:

SM: What brought you to wanting to guide originally?

Carol: I never planned it really. It has been my way of life through having lots of friends on the ranch and my mother helping me to realize that I could do it as a job. My father was the one that lent me my first horses.

SM: You have spent your entire life with horses, do you think there is a special quality about the animals that allows them to bond well with people?

Carol: Yes, I started riding when I was five or six. Then I used to go with the gauchos when they had to do the work. Moving cows, sheep, repairing fences to remote areas, etc. always with horses. I do not have much experience with other breeds, but I would say that the Criollo horse, the Quarter horse and the Noruegean Fiord go well with people. I am sure the Percherones, the big calm horses do a great job as well. But I do not have much experience with the Peruanos. Arab horses, I think, are a one-person type of horse.

SM: What does one of your multi-day trips entail?

Carol: We get up at seven in the morning, make a good breakfast, saddle up the horses and ride for three or four hours. Then a good lunch, a short siesta of a half hour, saddle again and ride for two or three hours. Then build a cozy camp with tents, get dinner ready and by 10:30, more or less, to bed. Every day goes pretty much like this, depending on the weather, riders, how many days, the horses, the pack horses, etc.

SM: What aspects go into being a good guide?

Carol: When you are the guide, you need to know the area, know how to pack a pack horse, how to saddle them, of course. You need to know where is the water, the wood, the grass for the horses. And always being aware of checking saddles and seeing that everybody is fine are extremely important too. Knowing how to build a fire is vital, not to mention how to put it out well. You need to have common sense for any situation, things can happen with horses and people. A great guide knows how to make the best decisions for the group to secure a spectacular trip overall.

SM: Do you have a favorite memory from a guiding trip?

Carol: I have so many great memories but some that stick out have to do with storms, with rain, snow etc. One story shines because we had people in the group who could play the guitar. I always have a special fondness to the memories created out of discovering new trails.

SM: What type of horses do you ride?

Carol: I do most of my rides with Criollos. I also have a Thoroughbred, one Fiord, one half-Fiord and two Frisones.

SM: What do you suggest to those thinking of going on a guided horse trip?

Carol: I would suggest to come with an open mind, not only to ride, ride, ride like crazy, but also to be open to spending time with the horse — studying them when they are riding, resting, eating. The nice thing about our rides is that we have time to take in the experience. The time to be with the horses — understanding the riding or when they are eating, finding the best places for them, moving them if it is necessary. etc.

SM: What is your favorite part about working with horses?

Carol: I like to be with them, to saddle them, to move with them. And when I ride, to study them — how they choose trails, how they go on difficult trails, when they hear something what they do, there is always lots of things to learn from them. They are always right. If something wrong happens it is due to humans making the wrong choice and not being observant of what the horse is telling us, always.

SM: How has your family history helped you to create your guide service?

Carol: My family’s history has helped me because we have a good reputation throughout the entire area. Specifically my grandfather, and father, as well. My grandfather was always very good with horses. He was a super cowboy! He and my father were very nice, respectful and considerate people.

SM: Do you have any advice for travelers coming to Bariloche?

Carol: My advice to them would be to stay longer than three days. And whatever their wish is to do, to look for it because there are a lot of options. Just keep asking and insist for what you want and what you like. We Argentines are very accommodating people.

Carol's wilderness rides can be booked via Hidden Trails, a company that specializes in equestrian holidays worldwide.

Carols trip is listed on their website at: Rio Negro Ride - Las Mellizas
or you can call them toll free from North America at 1-888-987-2457

Horseback Riding Safari in Botswana

admin — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 23:58:00 GMT

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Kate Klimo’s Diary of her Horseback Safari in Botswana - March 2009
July 9th, 2009

Today we are moving on to elephant and lion territory in Botswana. We finally arrive at the great gray green greasy Limpopo River all set about with fever trees (thank you, Rudyard Kipling). We cross it in a cage swinging on a cable, first our baggage and then ourselves. The Limpopo is swift-flowing, wide and high at this time of year, a dull but intimidating army green color flowing beneath our feet as we cross. Our guide, West, meets us on the Botswana bank. A handsome young Motswanian, he points out the fever trees to us and tells us how the British had mistakenly attributed outbreaks of cholera to the trees and had set about chopping them all down. This particular tree survived the aboricide and offers us its shade. The outfit here in Botswana is owned by a twenty-something ex-pat couple from Cambridge (although her parents are American you’d never know it to hear her talk.) He’s an ecologist who also acts as guide. But not this week. This week, we have West, who carries the rifle and the bullwhip and his cousin Mpho, who brings up the rear. The camp is quite posh with a thatched pergola sheltering couches and a bar and another one for our dining table. I am happy to see that the tents are of a good size. You can stand up in them and they fit two cots and our luggage and bed tables on either side. Each tent gets a battery-operated lantern, which we are encouraged to conserve. There’s a “porch” with an awning in front and in back, a platform with a latrine, a washbasin, and a bucket shower. There are tin pitchers for hot and cold water, which we are encouraged to put out every night and they will be filled first thing in the morning for a morning wash. Also supplied, a tall thermos full of ice water. After dinner West walks us to our tents because we are in lion country and it is clear he wants to instill in us a certain sobriety regarding our surroundings and the potential dangers they might hold. The whistle in the basket by the bed is so we can whistle the lion away from us? No, seriously folks, I guess whistle for West who will come running with the rifle or the bullwhip or all of the above and shoo the lion away.
Sunday
We see scads of elephants this morning, ranging from bulls down to teeny-beeny two week-olders no bigger than a potbellied pig. When we approach, the bigger animals surround the tinier ones. West is careful to slow down around the elephants and we are encouraged to keep quiet but relaxed. Even so the females look at us and wave their great wing-like ears as if to dare us to try something.
The horses are first-rate, very strong and mellow and all capable of a lovely collected canter, like buttah. The terrain here is wonderfully varied: now scrub/desert with candelabra cactus, now more jungle-like with baobab trees. We ford lots of dried out riverbeds, where the sand is soft and the horses sink down deep into it, caused by flash floods during the rainy season. Lots of iron in the soil here but also lots of copper.
At siesta-time, when we get off the tail at Zwala camp, we find our tents all set up with pitchers of hot and cold water next to our wash tubs on tables in front, along with a thermos full of ice water that comes from a bore hole or has been boiled. We find our cots with their duvets all made inside and our basket with our lion-alarm whistle set thoughtfully by the side of the cot. The latrine is in its own little canvas cover just out the back door of the tent.
Monday
Our next camp is a kraal (or corral) made of odd-sized gnarled gray lead wood logs sticking up out of the earth at odd angles and forming a sort of circular fence around our camp ground. A huge machato tree with spreading limbs shelters the space. In the trunk of the machato tree is a water tap. It looks like somebody’s idea of a joke. Then West tells us to turn the tap. Cold water splashes out. We fill our glasses and drink. West really has us going for a second there, thinking the water actually comes from the tree. (An African Well Tree). Someone was clever, bringing up a line from the borehole through this massive tree trunk and putting in a tap. A crude picketed corridor leads off the kraal to a ladies and a men’s room replete with flush toilets. There are also two showers with hot and cold running water. Oh joy. Here we will sleep for two nights sans tents but avec all the water we can drink and bathe in. Just outside the kraal, in a grove of trees, the horses are tethered. It’s pleasant and comforting to hear them munching and stomping and snorting and blowing. It’s also pleasant to know that they are surrounded by that electric fence. When we get off the trail, the wranglers take very good care of the horses. They water them and feed them and curry them. They clean all of the tack. You can hear the wranglers murmuring to the horses. That, too, is comforting.
Tuesday
The morning is overcast, which is a relief from the sun. We see a herd of over 40 elephants, plus giraffes, ostriches, baboons, impala. After our delicious cheese sandwich break, we mostly canter through what looks increasing like lion country to me: high, tawny grass broken up by stands of bushes out of which huge flocks of birds break as we - the wranglers, the two cooks, and West and Mpo sing to us before dinner. They sing in perfect harmony songs have they made up about themselves and Botswana. They are funny and sweet and very charming. At dinner, we meet our third of Little Five: a rhinoceros beetle that trucks across our dinner table and is kind enough to pause for a photo op. We are just sitting down to Martha’s version of Bobotie (like Sloppy Joe’s with curry), with West as Dad at one end of the table and Mpo as Mom at the other, when suddenly, we hear a rumbling sound that blossoms into a roar that shakes the tableware. West and Mpo stand up very quickly and say, “Excuse us, please, we must be going.”
“Lion!” we whisper and stare at one another with wide frightened eyes.
I don’t know how but we manage to finish our meal while all around us, outside the kraal, wranglers and guides scurry this way and that, securing the horses, checking the bushes, swinging their lanterns into dark corners. What is the expression? Beating the bushes?
We hear the roar again and this time it is closer. We go to sit around the fire in a tight, nervous circle around the fire. West occasionally comes in to report. He appears calm, if a little irritated by the inconvenience of it all. Then returns to duty. When the roar gets even closer, Mpo comes to sit by the fire and say that the lions have taken up a position in the bushes just outside the Kraal. West asks us if we are interested in coming out to see the lion. There are actually three of them: a male and two females. We troop out. West flashes the light in the bushes. We peer through the break and see the three lions inside. It’s like peering in a very peculiar, very exotic Easter egg and seeing a scene of quaint wildness. Oooooh. We return to fire. There is no gate on the kraal, we point out to West. West tells us not to worry. He will put a lantern in the center of the open doorway which will surely keep the lions out. He tells us not to worry. The lions are not interested in us. They are interested in the horses and they are working to protect the horses. He asks us to stay inside the kraal, for if he has to shoot one of the lions to protect us, there is an awful lot of paperwork involved and he would just as soon avoid it.
Wednesday
The next morning, all of our horses are whole and safe and we are more than eager to leave this campsite behind. The horses seem a little jittery too but after a few canters, they calm down. I, too, feel calm, for I have survived the lions and that’s good.
Animals, animals, animals. I never tire of seeing them. Still can’t believe I am seeing them…just out there running around and eating and crapping in plain site, without bars or moats or fences.
A delicious cheese sandwich at mid-morning. I am amazed that my ass never hurts. Must be the saddles. It surely can’t be my horsemanship. The ground is littered with beautiful copper-green rocks. I want to dismount every ten steps to pick them up and fill my pockets. I’m as acquisitive about them as any binge shopper. I want them. There are geodes here, too.
Camp is in a beautiful leafy ravine. The shower is up on a hillside near the horses. After siesta we go to the dining room area and find a Motswanian named Elvis is there to take us on a ride to our sundowners. He is a Machato Game Reserve park ranger and has a very posh version of the jeeps we have been riding these past days. These are the kinds of jeeps that people who are on jeep safaris ride every single day, seven hours a day. As we bump along, we can’t believe people actually do this all day every day. It’s loud and stinky. Horses are so much more comfortable and smell better. Elvis shows us lots of wonderful things. We come to a place where there is a whole pack of wild dogs. With their big, dish-shaped ears and their tan-white-spotted hides, they are called painted wolves. We are parked right in the midst of them! Except for a few of them, who sniff the tires of the cars, they ignore our presence and we see them signaling to each other with significant looks and little yips. They are making their plans for the evening hunt, which is serious wild doggy business. A pack of wild dogs can bring down a giraffe, no problem. Elvis drives to where a leopard lounges atop a big old termite mound. In a tree nearby, its bloody ribs exposed to our curious and appalled scrutiny. The leopard, which Elvis tells us is only one and a half years old, is almost ready to leave its mum and take care of himself although he can still be seen with his mother now and then. Doesn’t look like any toddler I’ve ever seen. The leopard stares lazily back at us as we snap its photo and that of its kill, swinging from the tree branch like gory laundry. He puts it up there to keep it away from the hyenas.
That night, we have a lovely dinner with the young couple that owns the outfitting company. They are raising their 16-month-old son here without TV, Internet, shopping malls. I am envious.
Thursday
We ride across a dam and see crocodile prints. Not long afterwards a dreadful stench bombards us. West calls it right away: it is a dead elephant. We ride toward the awful smell and eventually come upon the body of an elephant hidden in the bushes. West tells us she died in childbirth and gets on the radio to let the park rangers know. There is a sound of elephants trumpeting in the distance and I wonder whether they are telling each other the news. We learn that the elephants will probably soon converge on this place to pay their respects. Then the hyenas will come in and the vultures and the other bone-pickers. When the skin and flesh are all gone, the elephants will return and each one take up a bone in its trunk and deposit it somewhere in the bush. I guess it’s the elephantine equivalent of spreading the ashes. I get a sad, heavy feeling here looking at the dead elephant and I am glad when we move on and the air freshens again.
We take a nature walk with West and Mpo. On our walk, we find lots of rocks and somehow or other West and Mpo persuade us to play a quaint old game children in Botswana have been playing for centuries. It’s called Put the Impala Turd in your Mouth and Spit it Out as Far as You Can. The more dignified and squeamish among us (Vee, mainly: smart girl) refuse to do this. The rest of us white liberal soft touches are filling our mouths with the little pellets and spitting away. (It’s odorless and more importantly tasteless, but still…) And guess what? I don’t think I even gargled when we got back to tent and got ready for dinner. Oh, I’m a bush baby for sure now!
That night, I hear more elephants trumpeting and imagine them converging on the site. At dinner Vee mentions that she wants to drive back to the site and see if we can sight hyenas, one animal we haven’t yet crossed off our list. Everyone is interested. West promises to do this. I have mixed feelings, mostly regarding talking about this at dinner as my olfactory memory remains vivid.
Friday
This is our last day of riding, the day when we will ride the horses back to the ranch and, from there, drive to the very first camp we stayed in for the last night in the bush.
Without further incident, we ride into the ranch to return the horses to the stable. The horses, freed of their tack, go and roll on their home turf.
A beautiful big pole barn, open at the sides and covered with netting to keep out the midges, is where our beautiful horses spend their nights. There are several corrals, one of which is under the trees. It seems like a lovely place for a horse to live. We reunite with the extra baggage and valuables we stored at the ranch during the week and drive back to the ranch. The Tuli Circle is complete as we return to the camp from whence we started six days ago. There we are happy to see Lari, doped up but smiling woozily and not too badly hurt.
And speaking of elephants, before dinner West drives us back to where the body of the dead elephant lies. Sure enough, it is not long before a she-hyena and her mate slink out of the bush and over toward the elephant. They are fearless. The expression on their eyes is pure hunger. Their bellies are fat and sway beneath them as they walk. These are no cute Disney characters.
As I reflect back on the two weeks of riding: the skulls the bones, the leopard and its bloody side of impala hanging from the tree, the ménage of lions and their triple kill, the elephant dead in childbirth and the slinking hyenas coming to chow down, I find myself in awe and fear of nature.
This trip has taken me a long way from the cathedrals and bastides and quaint little inns of my usual Euro-centric equestrian vacations. It has taken me to a place which seems vast but which is only about one one-hundredth the size of the vast continent of Africa. I want to see more of it. Somebody said that the western world is very Yang. With all its advances and technologies, it’s very male. But Africa, the cradle of civilization, is still very Yin. And that yin makes my head spin and my soul sing.

These horseback riding safaris can be booked via Hidden Trails - have a look at their extensive website and details on this ride at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/tour/botswana_mashatu_tuli.aspx or call Toll Free 1-888-9-TRAILS -- their knowledgable staff will be able to give you all the details.

Brazil on Horseback

admin — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 21:28:00 GMT

Brazil on Horseback by Ariane Janér - EcoBrasil

When travelling through Brazil, you see horses everywhere. According to the Brazilian Geography and Statistics Institute there are nearly 6 million horses in the country, which means Brazil has the fourth largest herd in the world.
Many of these horses are of mixed origin and often used in cattle-ranching. But Brazilians also breed and enjoy riding quality horses in disciplines that range from classical dressage to horseback archery.
Apart from popular imported breeds such as Quarterhorses and Arabs, Brazil also values its national breeds: the Mangalarga Marchador, the Mangalarga Paulista, the Campolino, the Crioulo and the Brazilian Sports Horse (BH).
The Mangalarga Marchador (MM) is seen as Brazil’s national horse: more than 350.000 have been registered. The MMs descend from Iberian horses and have been bred since the early 19th century. They are known for their versatility, friendly temperament and hardiness. As gaited horses they give you a very smooth ride and they are of course ideal for trail riding and cattle drives. But they can also be easily trained for dressage, show jumping and other disciplines. The Crioulo or Criollo of Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay is the horse of the “gauchos” and famed for its stamina and hardiness. Crioulos are small, squarely built and agile horses with good acceleration, which is why they are used for polo (today often cross-bred with thoroughbreds for even greater speeds).
Two Argentinean Criollo horses, Mancha e Gato, became world famous, when they rode with Swiss adventurer Aimé Tschiffely from Buenos Aires to Washington. This epic trip of more than 20.000 km took them over the Andes, through rainforests and deserts, just living off the land. When they left in 1925, Tschiffely was ridiculed for starting out on an impossible adventure on two small and middle-aged horses, but when they arrived in 1928 in the US, they were honored for an incredible feat with a parade on New York’s Fifth Avenue and a reception at the White House by Calvin Coolidge. Mancha and Gato were in great condition when they finished the trip and both lived to a ripe old age.
And then there are the wild naturalized breeds. These are the descendents of Iberian horses, who escaped in colonial times and adapted to life in remote regions. The “pantaneiro” horse can be found on the floodplains of the Pantanal. In the savannas between the Amazon Delta and the Tepuis, in the state of Roraima, the “lavradeiro” horse roams.
On the Ilha de Marajó island, an island the size size of Switzerland) in the mouth of the Amazon, there are two small breeds the “marajoara” and the “puruca” (which is of part Shetland parentage).
In a land full of horses, you should be able to do great rides, don't you think?
For those who love trail riding, there are certainly lots of options all over Brazil.
You can get close to the Pantanal wildlife on horseback, ride on the beach, go dude ranching, follow the centuries old Estrada Real between colonial gems Paraty, Ouro Preto and Diamantina, venture into the semi-arid interior of Brazil`s northeast, or explore the canyons and highlands or do the Missions Trail in southern Brazil.
But of course there is more to do on horseback than just riding on trails. There are several excellent stud farms and schools for clinics in dressage and show jumping, you can take polo lessons, find out about working equitation or even learn horseback archery, a skill that goes back to the original centaurs of the Asian steppes.
One place that joins many of these options is one and a half hour from Rio de Janeiro in the rain forested foothills of the Serra do Mar: the Desempenho Equestrian Center in Cachoeiras de Macacu . Desempenho has been breeding Mangalarga Marchador horses since 1983 and combines this with a riding school and, an institute for equestrian and environmental studies. The owners of Desempenho, Bjarke and Mara Rink are totally dedicated to equitation and the study of horses and nature. Their herd of more than 60 horses roams in their large property, which combines lowland pasture with secondary Atlantic Rainforest, which they are restoring. Bjarke is also a writer who explores how the symbiotic relationship of man and horse, the centaur, changed the course of history. Apart from lessons in horsemanship, jumping, dressage and cross, Desempenho also offers horseback archery and has developed a marvelous seven days trail ride, called Darwin´s trail, which will take you through the Atlantic Rainforest and mountains and includes stopovers at charming pousadas and REGUA, a private nature reserve with a lodge and scientific centre. Hidden Trails is currently exploring this trip and if it meets their standard, will offer the trail shortly.

For horseback riding tours in Brazil - check out the Hidden Trails website at http://hiddentrails.com/country/brazil.aspx .
Hidden Trails specializes in equestrian vacations in South America and worldwide.

Riding in Montana with the ghosts of General Custer the Seventh Cavalry - Lonesome Spur

admin — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 18:58:00 GMT

There's an eerie silence as our horses traipse through the lemon-coloured sweet clover. The only sound is the wind sweeping gently through the tall grass. In bright sunshine, the sagebrush takes on a silvery hue and its menthol-like aroma is a refreshing respite from the stifling heat.
Around us, white stones mark where scouts and soldiers of General Custer's Seventh Cavalry fell in June 1876. We are riding across the Little Bighorn battlefield, in the hoof steps of Custer's last ride. The sense of history here is overpowering. It's peaceful and tranquil now but one can only imagine the horrors that unfolded that day.
We've joined a handful of other tourists on a three hour horse ride over the battlefield, guests of the Crow Tribe in Montana. With the help of our young guide, Hamley, we cross the fast-flowing, swollen Little Bighorn river and then the grasslands of Native American reservation land. We ride through the heart of the Custer Battlefield, undulating terrain that most tourists get to see only from the road.

Battle time: Soldiers ride across grasslands at a re-enactment of the Battle of Little Big Horn.

Afterwards, I collapse inside our teepee on a camp bed. It's been a long, hot day in the saddle and my thighs feel like lead. I think I've got heatstroke, but all I need is a siesta. Later, we enjoy a barbecue with charismatic community elder Henry Realbird, his family and other members of the Crow Tribe.
Darkness soon descends, followed by a torrential downpour. We help Henry dismantle the barbecue tent but when the wind sends chairs flying around our heads, we take cover in our teepee. Like many things, storms are bred tough in Montana.
This Native American reservation is usually off-limits to tourists. We are able to ride over this Indian land thanks to Lonnie Schwend, owner of the 400-acre Lonesome Spur Ranch where we are staying. He is friends with the Crow Tribe and a fifth-generation descendant of German homesteaders who settled in Montana at the turn of the century.
The ranch nestles between the snowy peaks of the Beartooth and Pryor mountains at the end of a gravel track called Schwend Road, near the town of Bridger, an hour west of Billings. Straw bales like giant Shredded Wheat stud the surrounding fields. 'You only get a road named after you around here if you were a homesteader,' says Lonnie.
He's the real deal, a proper old cowboy with a huge hangdog moustache who spent 35 years as a rodeo rider until he retired six years ago. What he doesn't know about horses isn't worth knowing.
Lonnie turned his place into a working guest ranch 15 years ago, inspired by the movie City Slickers. He runs the ranch with his wife Elaine, who is originally from the Scottish Borders. She first visited the Lonesome Spur 13 years ago after reading The Horse Whisperer - the book's author, Nicholas Evans, stayed at the ranch to research his bestselling novel. She fell in love --first with Montana, and later with Lonnie.
'We're definitely not a dude ranch,' she says. 'This is a working ranch, so if you stand around you'll soon be given a job to do.'
A holiday on a working cattle ranch is all about mucking in and experiencing an authentic flavor of life in the American West. For a few days, you become a volunteer ranch-hand. In between herding cattle, mending fences or feeding the 50-odd horses, there's plenty of time to act out childhood fantasies.

Last stand: A Sixties artist's impression of Custer's final moments at the Battle of Little Bighorn

Stetson hats and suede chaps are provided but you'll have to bring your own Clint Eastwood-style poncho. This is a hands-on holiday. Those wanting to sleep late, or lie by a pool, should look elsewhere.
Life on the ranch can sometimes appear chaotic - not that guests mind. Be prepared to go with the flow as plans change, often at the last minute. Guests seem pleased to have escaped big-city toxins and welcome the chance to help out.
Our accommodation is a comfy log cabin full of pine furniture, with mains electricity and a flushing toilet. There are three meals each day at fixed times and everyone eats together, giving guests the chance to get to know each other. Long days begin with breakfast at 8am, after which we prepare our horses for riding.
Fortunately ranch-hand Brandon Murray is around to check that our saddles are not going to slide off. Most of the horses have gentle names such as Pella and Honey Bear. I've made a mental note to steer clear of a horse called Macho.
Brandon is wiry and toothless, with a droopy Yosemite Sam moustache. In his less quiet moments he tells us tales about his rodeo career and how the famous bull Bodacious took out his front teeth. And how, more recently, he was escorted from his cousin's Mormon wedding after he spiked the punch with whisky.
'I don't talk much but I know about horses,' he drawls. 'If guests leave the ranch with more of a passion for horses, then I'm happy.'

On the hoof: Max Wooldridge saddles up in Montana

Later we meet Jeff Taber - another wrangler with a healthy moustache. We help him load our horses on to a transporter truck and drive to Grove Creek, about an hour away. In a spectacular valley surrounded by jagged mountains, we ride the open range and herd cattle from the lower grasslands to higher pastures where the feed is more nutritional.
'The secret to moving cows is you have to yell at them,' Jeff calls out. And the ranching education does not stop there. The Lonesome Spur hosts a series of colt clinics, where you can learn about natural horsemanship. One sticky afternoon, we gather around the pen to watch Mark Dixon, a visiting horse-trainer from Alabama, break in a two-year-old colt that has never been haltered or ridden. In just 90 minutes he is standing on the horse's saddle.
Next day we're back at the Custer Battlefield for the annual re-enactment of Custer's Last Stand. There is a lot of noise - the firing of rifles, the high-pitched yells of warriors - and the air is full of dust and gun smoke. Young Crow Tribe males paint their faces and grab mock weapons, or jump on to unsaddled horses.
Meanwhile, other locals dressed in US Army period uniforms sound bugles and assemble on horseback. A lone horseman stands atop a hill holding an ensign flag. Suddenly it's late June 1876 again and General George Custer, who boasted that his men could 'whip all the Indians on the plains', is about to meet his demise. He is heavily outnumbered by Lakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho warriors, who have formed a tightening noose around him and most of his Seventh Cavalry troops.
Fortunately, the crowd is spared the more gruesome aspects of the battle; Custer and his poorly trained soldiers - many had hardly fired a rifle before - were stripped naked, scalped and mutilated. Five companies, more than 250 men, were annihilated.
Later we drive back to the Lonesome Spur. Montana is Big Sky country - miles of long, straight roads where a bend is an event. It is one of the least populated states in America and cattle outnumber humans 12 to one.
Back at the ranch we sit around a campfire with other guests and watch a salmon-pink sunset over the Beartooth Mountains before retiring to our log cabin and the nocturnal noises of the American West - the distant sounds of mile-long coal and freight trains, a chorus of chirruping crickets and dogs barking.
One evening, we visit the Cody Stampede rodeo, an hour away, just over the border in Wyoming. The town was made famous by 'Buffalo' Bill Cody and today everyone cashes in on his memory. We eat at the Irma Hotel, which Bill founded in 1902. Two women in period costume and a General Custer 'lookalike' wander the restaurant posing for photos. Too bad he looks more like a mid-Seventies Rick Wakeman in a cowboy suit.

On the ranch: Max Wooldridge joins wrangler Jeff Taber

Our tickets are collected by a woman who is almost as fierce as the bulls trying to hurl riders to the ground. Rodeo seems to be the national sport, reflecting the toughness of Montana's landscape and its people. Jana Breding, who helps ferry guests from the ranch to Billings airport, is married to the rodeo. Her husband-Scott, is a former professional-who once won the Calgary Stampede. And despite the risks her teenage son, Parker, hopes to continue the tradition.
'Four friends have died in the rodeo and one's in a wheelchair,' she says. 'Then, a few years ago, we lost another. A bull hit him in the head and he never woke up.'
This brought matters into sharp relief. As a soft urbanite, I can barely lift a saddle without risking a hernia.
Our last day, and one final horse ride takes us through fields bristling with more sweet clover. Later, as I dismount, I accidentally smack another horse in the jaw with my heel as I slide my foot out of a stirrup. I worry I may have hurt him but he doesn't even flinch, and just carries on chewing nonchalantly.
In Montana the horses are as tough as their cowboy mounts.

Travel facts
For more information on Lonesome Spur Ranch, go to the website: Lonesome Spur, Montana
Or call the Hidden Trails office toll free at 1-888-9-TRAILS or Skype:hiddentrails

Story by Mail Online

Ecuador's Hacienda Zuleta Welcomes You

admin — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 18:22:00 GMT

By Meg Weaver on March 18, 2009

Hacienda Zuleta is alluring not merely for its idyllic 5,218 acres that guests can explore on horseback and its picturesque colonial buildings dating back to 1691. Hacienda Zuleta, home to former Ecuadorian president Galo Plaza Lasso, provides guests a home-away-from home among the volcanoes, and it funds the Galo Plaza Lasso Foundation.
The foundation, a non-profit, non-governmental organization formed in 1995, seeks to empower and educate the local, primarily indigenous, people of Zuleta and the surrounding Ibarra region. The foundation also aims to protect the environment and culture of the area.
It works toward these goals through two major projects: the Embroidery Project and the Condor Huasi Rehabilitation Project. The Embroidery Project began with Doña Rosario, wife of the former president, who was inspired by her travels to Spain and Italy in the 1940s and the embroidery she saw women doing there on their doorsteps. She thought of the intricate brocades, tapestries, and gauze work the Andean women of Zuleta had been doing since pre-Columbian times. Upon her return from Europe, Doña Rosario established a workshop for the local women as well as a shop, El Taller, at the hacienda where they could sell their wares to supplement their families' primarily agrarian income. Zuleta embroidery is now part of the region's cultural heritage and the sale of the product and perpetuation of the art form clearly benefit from increased tourism to the hacienda and the region in general.
Another of the foundation's projects is the Condor Huasi Rehabilitation Project that houses wild condors that have suffered from human aggression and seeks to reintroduce them to the wild. The on-site project seeks to educate visitors on the importance of protecting wildlife, and provides food to the dwindling and endangered wild condor population.
In addition the foundation's great work, Hacienda Zuleta is Smart Voyager certified and scored a 92 percent on the 2009 re-evaluation of its program's best practices. The Smart Voyager Certification program is a joint venture of Ecuadorian NGO Conservación y Desarrollo (Conservation and Development) and U.S.-based Rainforest Alliance that seeks to help tourism operators reduce the impact of their business on the environment while supporting local communities and their employees. UNESCO has acknowledged the program as an example of how to increase the efficiency and profitability of companies while protecting a region's natural heritage and historic and cultural sites.

Horseback riding trips at Hacienda Zuleta can be booked via Hidden Trails - an organizer of some of the best equestrian vacations worldwide. To reas more details about these riding vacations, go to:
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/ecuador_zuleta.aspx

Devil's Tower Country - Black Hills of Wyoming

admin — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 22:03:00 GMT

Story by Kent & Charlene Krone

“A dark mist lays over the land…Devil’s Tower up thrust against the gray sky as if in birth of time the core of the earth had broken through its crust and the motion of the world was begun.” wrote N. Scott Monday. “There are things in nature that engender an awful quiet in the heart of man; Devil’s Tower is one of them.”
This says it all!
Riding in Devil’s Tower country is a unique experience, both in scenery and feeling. According to Native American legend, this magnificent geological wonder is etched with claw marks from the Great Bear.  In its aura, you hear echoes from the past, pulling the past very much into the present.
Located in north-eastern Wyoming, the Devil’s Tower region is exciting to ride not only because of its rich history and abundant wildlife, but for its magnificent and varied scenery.
Devil’s Tower or “Bear Lodge” as it was known by Native Americans, was formed by an intrusion of molten rock into or between other rock formations.  Over time relentless erosion wore away the surrounding sandstone and shale, thus exposing the much harder columns of greenish-gray igneous rock.  The tower rises 1,280 feet above the nearby Belle Fourche River.
In 1906, President Theodore Roosevelt recognized the uniqueness of Devil’s Tower declaring it our nation’s first national monument.
Wildlife thrives here.  More than 150 species of birds populate the area, as well as white-tailed deer and black-tailed prairie dogs.  During one picnic ride, we spent a fair amount of time watching the playful little prairie dogs going about their business in their “dog town” below the Tower.
Devil’s Tower country is a magical, mystical place to create an adventure.  Take your own horse or ride someone else’s, but head out and explore this country.
The Ranch
Places are like people.  Each is unique and has its own personality.  New Haven Ranch isn’t a dude ranch where one goes to relax and be pampered.  This is a family-run working cattle ranch on the edge of the Black Hills in northeastern Wyoming.
The ranch gives you an opportunity to get involved in the ranch work, learn about holistic ranching, enjoy riding adventures, and be around lots of animals.
Four generations of the Bohl family live and work on the family-owned ranch.  Since 2003, guests have been invited to share their ranch life.  Doerte, a German guest, enjoyed ranch life so much that she quit her job in Hamburg to work on the ranch.  Then she discovered not only did she love ranch life, but also her boss!  She and Nick were married in 2006.
The Ranch is located on the grounds of an old ghost town, New Haven, in the northeastern corner of Wyoming.  To get to the ranch, we drove 18 miles on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, as they say.
In this tough, rugged country, survival of the fittest is the natural way of life.  Homesteaders here were 150 years ago.  Many were driven out by the unforgiving climate, hostile Indians, and greedy cattle barons.
Today, 800 cattle graze the ranch carefully managed by Nick and Doerte.  If you look around, you’ll see remnants from the past.  Old buildings and rusting machinery bear mute testimony to past inhabitants.
The ranch, also referred to as New Haven Lodge, has five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an additional half-bath.  There’s a balcony where you can sit and watch the changing light over the Missouri Buttes.   After a long day’s ride, you can enjoy the hot tub under the stars.  Not a bad way to chase away saddle sores.
Meals at the lodge are taken family style around a large table next to an immaculate kitchen.  If you enjoy fresh, organic produce, humanely raised meat, and creative meals, these folks have got your number. Mealtime was happy and relaxed.
Although you can just hang out and relax, New Haven Ranch is a tremendous opportunity for energetic folks wishing to explore and partake in ranch activities and work.
Because of holistic ranch management practices, cattle are rotated to different pastures approximately every eight days.  This necessitates a great deal of cattle gathering and moving in addition to regular cattle care.
Riding opportunities abound in this beautiful corner of “God’s Country”.  There are timbered canyons, high plateaus, and aromatic sagebrush prairie.  With your own horse or a ranch horse, you can saddle up for an awe-inspiring sight of Devil’s Tower.
There’s a picturesque lake where you may go fishing, swimming, boating, horse-swimming, picnicking, or do it all.
If you’re an animal lover, you’ll love this ranch!  We saw goats climbing trees; we didn’t know they could do that.  There are also sheep, dogs, cats, buffalo, geese, and ducks.  Buddy has had some problems with the ducks.  They were hoping he would share his grain with them; Buddy doesn’t share!
Nearby animals that fend for themselves include coyotes, snakes, mountain lions, eagles, skunks, racoons, prairie dogs, antelope, deer and porcupines.
Nick and Doerte are justifiably proud of their horses, which are strong and healthy, both mentally and physically.  All the horses like people and are safe to ride.
Nick exudes vitality and contagious passion for holistic ranch management.  He’s studied in-depth sustainable agriculture and land reclamation.  He uses his goats to battle noxious weeds.  “You’d be amazed at the kind of weeds these goats can take down,” he said.
Doerte, his beautiful, energetic partner, is a gracious and hard-working woman who shares Nick’s vision of holistic management.  She’s responsible for much of the organic produce and ranch-raised ducks, geese, and chickens that are served for dinner.

A weeklong stay with all activities is $1260 - for details see:
http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=wyoming_new_haven_ranch&region=yes&tourtype=WorkingRanch

Cowgirl Camp in New Mexico

Ryan — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 22:02:00 GMT

At Cowgirl Camp in New Mexico
Dale Evans wannabes learn ridin', ropin' and ranch chores.

By Jeff Berg

The last thing I said to her before she left for her adventure was an old cow person cliché, attributed to Will Rogers. "Don't squat with your spurs on."

I watched my wife Sarah drive away, with hardly any cow person regalia. The car was loaded with some kind of dated "fashion" boots that had a small heel, sans spurs, the two pairs of jeans that she owns — since she usually wears black skirts and dresses that have earned her the nickname "Morticia" — and her floppy straw gardening hat. I loaned her one of my repro cowboy-style shirts — long sleeve, neutral color, no collar.

No saucer-size belt buckle, no weather-beaten Stetson with turndown brim, no chaps, wool or otherwise. Why, not even a lindsey-woolsey shirt was in that bag.

The place she was going had stressed that communication with the outside world was going to be minimal at best. Plus she refused to take her camera. So I was playfully wondering if this adventure was going to end up with her camped out at the Holiday Inn Express in Silver City, basking in bath salts, chocolate, coffee and gossip rags, with a side dish of Oprah on the tube in the afternoon.

I could hear it now: "Oh, I had a great time!"

But as it turned out, she went, saw, and conquered.

Sarah was headed for the Gila Ranch, which is located about 40 minutes north of Silver City. She had signed up for Cowgirl Camp.

An acquaintance had told me about the place about a year ago. She'd said that she had the time of her life, learning the ropes (literally) and being a real cowgirl, if for only a week. Hmmm, I pondered, gosh, with the high salary of a freelance writer, I bet I can afford this for Sarah as a Christmas present.

So, I checked the Hidden Trails website and was soon fully convinced that this was not some kind of lame "dude" operation. The novice cow people who show up would be put to work in a real ranch environment.

Sarah had occasionally told me stories about her girlhood in Indianapolis — not exactly an Old West hotbed (although the city does have the renowned Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art) — and had at times casually mentioned her fondness for most things Western. Indeed, her move to Montana — where we met in 1994 — put her in a tiny community on the Crow Indian Nation that was also a good place to observe working ranches and any number of horses. And she never complains when I slap a non-John Wayne western into the DVD/VHS player.

She had told me that her "initial defining moments" that created her adoration of the world outside a building came during Brownie and Girl Scout adventure camps. "That's where I discovered the joy of being outside," she said. "That, joined with television shows where I saw the horses going fast with the cowboys, caused me to believe that there might be much delight gained in the experience of riding horses and being outside."

She continued, "When I was a very small child, I would get up and go outside before the rest of my family was awake, and my frantic mother would later find me 'communing' with nature."

Her vivid imagination helped develop early riding skills while watching Dale Evans at work on TV. "I would get a straight-back chair and turn it around, and use my father's belt for reins. There was also lots of fun to be had on the mechanical nickel-a-ride horse in front of the A&P."

Life was not without conflict for the daydreaming cowgirl. "One of my earliest and biggest disappointments occurred when someone came around our neighborhood with a pony. He had hats and jackets and such, and you could dress up, sit on the pony, and have your picture taken. I thought it to be nirvana; my mother thought it outrageous — the price that is. I think I was eight then."

Not to be afoot forever, opportunity again arose during her freshperson year of high school. It became quite in vogue for parents, at least in Indianapolis, to send their fry to a dude ranch located near Dallas. "My parents found out from someone else's parents, learned that it was co-ed, but well-chaperoned, and that summer I was on the train to Texas. I guess it might have been my mother's way of making amends for the pony picture."

Returning for the next two summers, Sarah fantasized about being a girl on her own ranch even then.

Her first horse at the Texas dude ranch was a big red-and-brown gelding called Rhythm. Rhythm never gave her the blues, as she would ride off-trail and out of sight of the chaperone riders, as she overlooked her imaginary Ponderosa.

The ranch was not without humor, however. "When I first tried getting on the horse, I tried mounting from the right side." Which of course is the wrong side — and the horsemen certainly had a gentle chuckle at this tinhorn's "faux hoof."

A return to Texas for college brought her back in touch with her horsepersonality. "Instead of going to classes (at Trinity University in San Antonio), I would go to Breckenridge Park, where there were stables. I would go horseback riding instead."

Parental intervention and marriage followed these adventures, and for many years, no horse had the privilege of having Sarah on his back.

It wasn't until after the birth of a daughter and the release of the movie The Black Stallion that horses came to play again in her life.

"My daughter was always looking at picture books of horses and we went to all of the horse-related movies, and I did some hunter jumper riding for about three years."

Then the stable was closed again, except for a brief foray while working at a school for American Indian youth in Lame Deer, Mont.

So, after not being astride a stallion, gelding or even a pony for so many years, what were her thoughts on going to Cowgirl Camp? After all, she had seven months to try and talk herself out of it — that being the gap from Christmas to camp dates.

"Well, I had misgivings about not riding for so long. I thought my legs would be too weak, as compared to others who ride on a regular basis. It wouldn't be fun for them to be stuck for a week with someone like me who may have inferior skills."

There were four other cowgirls at this camp, all experienced riders — three from Minnesota, one all the way from Belgium. But Sarah's worrying was for naught. Including the worry about her age, which has allowed her to retire.

"The other women were probably in their 30s, so I felt pretty good about being able to keep up with them," she told me proudly.

"The first day at the ranch, we were welcomed, told the rules, and what was going to happen during the rest of the week."

She'd somehow failed to recall, however, that even in the lamest cowperson movie, the cowpeople are up at the crack of dawn, hunkering over the open fire, drinking coffee and rolling cigarettes.

"We got up at 6, and were soon at the stables taking care of the animals — feeding, watering and shoveling horse poop."

No coffee until the stable was de-pooped!

"Then we had breakfast, and after that we were back at the stables grooming the horses from head to tail. I recalled some of the procedures, such as covering the area where the saddle rests more than the other parts of the horse."

The first workday, the cowgirls worked on their basic riding skills in an arena. Gonzo was the gelding that Sarah was assigned for the week.

"We spent a good part of the morning getting used to the horses and listening to RJ (one of the real ranch hands), who wanted to make sure we all understood how the horse 'worked.'"

After lunch they went on a trail ride for most of the afternoon. The evenings were free time for the women to do as they wished on some of the ranch's 30,000 acres.

Mostly they relaxed and reviewed the day, and by early evening, everyone was turning in or attended to aching muscles or derrieres.

Tuesday was more of a workday for the guests. "The staff had gotten some cows huddled at one end of the arena, and three riders were then supposed to pick out three of the cows and move them to the other side of the arena."

From there, the steers (not calves, mind you) were to be herded into an area and behind a gate. After this was done, a rider was to raise her hand to signify that they were finished.

"It was lots of fun. I really had to concentrate, and that was hard sometimes because my body was really sore. And it was very competitive in a fun way. Some of the other women really could cuss and they did so when one of the cows would get away. You'd be an inch from success, and one cow would head in a different direction, and the others would follow."

Dang!

After another evening of rest and good food ("Lucy the cook was great — I loved her homemade salsa") and perhaps a massage, which came at extra cost from a local massage therapist, the women found themselves back in the stable the next day, shovels and curry combs in hand.

"Wednesday was when they taught us how to lasso. In the morning, we had instruction on how to make a lariat, how to hold it, how to make circles with it. There were 'pretend' cows, which were made out of two-by-fours. We would swing the lariat over our heads and release, all the while controlling the horse with our left hand on the reins."

This is when the ranch staff really began to show their patience and their confidence in what the women could do, as opposed to what they thought they couldn't do.

"RJ told me that I came out to this situation by myself, and he had an enormous amount of respect for anyone who would come all that way to try it. He told me that I was thinking too much, and to let my body do the work. Forget all of those old negative thoughts."

This worked wonders, as the afternoon proceeded to a game of "H-O-R-S-E," just like the game that uses a basketball, but with roping instead. "There was lots of merriment when we played. When we got to 'H-O' or 'H-O-R,' everyone really laughed. There were lots of tangled ropes, but it was all good fun."

And probably the highlight of the week was when she was able to lasso an actual living moving steer from the back of Gonzo the cowpony. Sarah's eyes were alight with pleasure when she related this tale. Around the horns and on the move, and that steer was no longer in the "get along" category.

There was also barrel racing, a traditional cowgirl rodeo competition that only some of the women took part in. "For some of us, it was more like barrel 'trotting.'"

The next day included the roundup. And this was not just something that the staff invented. This was a genuine, although miniature, version of the real thing, complete with gathering, branding and (yikes!) castrating. I'm hoping she didn't take notes on the latter.

"We couldn't get the cows up to 'the box,' which is where Mark (a real cowboy) and I rode to start the fire for branding and to set things up."

Instead, they rode back down to where they action was. Thrown shoes by two horses required a change in plan and direction. But when the roundup started, everyone was busy.

"They would rope a calf, flip it down, and we took turns holding the calf down." Then the cowboys would brand it, castrate it (!) with a pocketknife, and throw the, ahem, evidence on the ground or in the fire.

Rocky Mountain Oysters going to waste?

Well, mostly, although one of the cowwomen, Kiki, decided to try one after she was told that the "oysters" are seen by some as a delicacy — perhaps an indelicacy if one considers the victim! Kiki pulled one out of the fire to taste, but there was no report on how well she liked this Western hors d'oeuvre.

Other duties included inoculations and ear tags, with the male calves getting a notched ear in the bargain, presumably for identification purposes.

For the most part, the cowgirls stepped aside on many of these tasks, with one refusing to take part at all, announcing that the practices were "barbaric." Many required a bit more of an experienced hand, so spectating became a popular activity. Everything was done quickly and efficiently, with about 10 cows being handled in an hour by the cowboys.

The last day was spent on a trail ride by all of the now-seasoned cowgirls. There were two groups, one group taking a slightly longer trail, the second going to look at some land that a previous visitor was preparing to buy from the owners of the ranch.

It was also here where one of the cowboys noted that the subject of this piece had her stirrups set too low. Raising them a couple of inches relieved the cramped legs that had been a problem all week.

Sarah added, "Soaking in the tub with bath salts every night and two massages helped a lot, too."

I've never seen or read about a masseuse traveling with a cattle drive, but of course many things have changed since the days of the Chisum Trail. . . .

It was time to go on Saturday morning. With goodbyes said, addresses exchanged, and hugs received, everyone hit the happy trail for home.

Sarah arrived in Las Cruces around 11 a.m. and joined some friends and me at Tiffany's Greek Cafe, one of Las Cruces' best-kept secrets. Dressed in her ranch T-shirt, somewhat tanned, refreshed and filled with memories and good stories, she told other stories to us for the rest of the lunch. I don't think I had ever seen her wear a T-shirt before, and this one was worn like a badge of honor and pride.

"I cannot remember a time when I was so filled with such pain and feeling so much joy," she cooed in a voice filed with strength and dignity.

"I feel such a delight in doing something that I thought I was not capable of doing."

I just checked the Hidden Trails site for Cowgirl Camp II. Christmas is just around the corner, after all -- Gila Cowgirl Camp

Or call them direct at 1-888-9-TRAILS

Lost in Translation on Crete

admin — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 20:40:00 GMT

– Crete Explorer Ride – self guided option

Take two slightly ditzy girls, one incomprehensive language, and a brace of strange horses and dump them on a Mediterranean Island. Then tell said girls to navigate through 120 miles of impenetrable terrain and come home safely.

Sounds like a recipe for disaster?

Well, perhaps. But I also thought it sounded fun-and had no trouble conscripting my flat mate, Caroline, for the trip (solo travel is never allowed on the unguided Lasithi trail).

I’d never been to Crete and, through I officially hate hacking, one sniff of adventure has me snared. But as the stable manager Manolis handed me some saddlebags and a curious rope attached to a crooked horse shoe before directing me to a pony half my height of my own titchy eventer, my confidence began to waver.

The saddlebags, explained Manolis, heaving them over Macho’s back, contain a 24hr supply of oats, a tetherer (the shoe-rope thing) and three days’ clothes and necessities for ourselves. We just had to follow blue arrows marked on stones along the trail, keep an eye on the map and pitch up at a taverna every evening.
I can get lost in a dressage arena, so I delegated navigating to Caroline, Manolis promised we would find hay and evening oats at each guesthouse, and urged us to let the horses drink wherever we could find water. We exchanged mobile numbers, with his plea that we would call if ever unhappy with one of the ponies-either in temperament or soundness-and he would bring a replacement. With that, he tapped Macho on the rump and waves us off.
We set off in fleeces, heeding the locals’ warnings about the chilliness of the Cretan peaks (1,800m)-they get snowed in during the winter. But just two arrows into our ride, we decided it was bikini time. Amid secluded hectares of olive groves ribboned with rugged mountain paths, only a lone eagle circling ahead, we stripped and changed-just before Manolis’ Jeep purred round the corner. “I forgot your lunch!” he grinned, stuffing hunks of bread, ham and cheese into our bags.

But for most of the trail, we felt far away from any civilization. No two days of the six are the same-one day was spent amid rocky, red and Arizona-esque isolation; another day we rode along a fertile, fruity plateau flecked with quaint white-sailed windmills; one we spent on the balmy southern coastline, another up in the cool Dikti Mountains. Some days we trotted through old men willingly hobbled up from their roadside benches to offer our horses water; other days, the only glint of a community would be the lively chime of a goat’s bell.

As Pony Club camp veterans, Caroline and I thought we’d cruise through six day-long rides, tending to our ponies. Although the Cretans are oblivious to B-tests and conventional stable management, I was struck by quite how Sabine and Manilis, the couple who run the operation and partners with Hidden Trails, care about their horses.

In fact, they once dismissed a rider on day one-not on account of his ability, but for treating his horse like a machine. Manolis admitted to me later that he watches the way his clients throw their bags into his truck at the airport to glean signs about which of their 14 horses would suit them and whether they are caring riders.

But there is no farrier or vet on the island, and consequently some of the horses’ toes were uncomfortably long. And forget all those rally rules about “safe tying up” with baler twine and quick release knots-here we simply attached the horses to trees by the tethers and they ate, slept and rolled as happily as my mollycoddled Pony Club pony. My District Commissioner would have exploded.

Our first day was an eye-opener. From the Gorge of Gonies, we clambered from sea level to 1,100m. Six hours into the ride, and the horses were straining under the effort. Macho’s flea bitten white coat blackened and glistened as he toiled up the craggy path. But Macho, a tough little Berber pony is bred to cope with this sort of vertiginous, rocky terrain. I just had to learn to cope with his way of going. He likes to surge on at a pace, than take a break, panting and looking round rather helplessly.

I couldn’t fathom what he was trying to achieve-he could scarcely go home for a bran mash only 20 miles in. But no sooner had I resigned myself to the idea of tethering him to the nearest olive tree and bedding down for the night than he strutted on again with renewed purpose.

Caroline’s ride, Billy Diamond, was bred for the flat, but less affiliation to a racehorse than a tadpole. He likes to amble along at his own pace, his noble head lobbing metronomically as he slithers down the asphalt tracks and climbs methodically uphill on his long legs.

After a gargantuan effort like this, horses need their R&R, but on a different evening, when we’d only spent a couple of hours meandering through the orchards of the Lasithi plateau in the morning, we decided that a dusk hack was in order.

The horses seemed delighted to be out in the cool of the evening, without their cumbersome saddlebags. While we plucked figs, grapes and pomegranates from the trees fringing the sandy tracks, the horses snuffled around in the dust for windfalls like pigs searching for truffles. It beats my typical blackberry-fueled hack. This carefree attitude abruptly translated into a mad homebound gallop, hurtling round the unfamiliar bends-Macho’s blood-sugar levels had evidently soared due to the over-ripe figs.

On the hottest day of all, warmed by the drying African winds, we rounded off seven long hours in the saddle with a dip in the Libyan Sea. The horses initially seemed reluctant to tackle the breaking surf, but once they were confident we weren’t going to take any contact on the reins, dragging them underwater, they bobbed around happily.

Again and again, these horses surprised me with their versatility. Macho is an all-singing, all-dancing circus pony. The trail winds through sleep whitewashed village, incorporating a descent of 100 chapel steps. Admittedly Diamond got his lanky legs in a twist, but Macho strutted down as if to the manor born.

The guesthouses and villages, like the trails, vary enormously, from hotels and taverns to a family spare room-while the horses are patiently tethered to any nearby tree. The accommodation isn’t exactly salubrious-spartan, clean and with a private bathroom, but far from plush five-star deluxe. But the hosts, without exception, were charming and helpful, despite the insurmountable language barrier.

We ate local Cretan fare-breakfasts of yogurt and honey and suppers invariably incorporating lashings of olive oil, vine leaves, Greek salads, lamb and fresh grilled fish. Every night we would be plied with a carafe of raki-“the Cretan spirit”, ominously translated as firewater-and two shot glasses, often from an anonymous donor at the taverna.

Mercifully, we were warned that is it the height of impropriety to refuse the offer, even if you have no intention of drinking it. And you don’t-raki tastes like tequila mixed with petrol, but possibly rather worse.

At the end of the trip, Manolis and Sabine generously took us you to supper in the bright lights of Heraklion to celebrate our safe return. The sudden immersion into a buzzing tourist city, neon lights, gaudy sarongs and sun burnt Englishmen, pitched a stark contrast with the rustic, peasant-like idyll we’d so enjoyed.

A 120 mile trek is far from a “happy hack”. It was adventurous, challenging and at times remote-with only a good friend and dependant pony as company for an entire week. The rich tapestry of landscapes was compelling, the people delightful and-when each extraordinary day is over-you slept with that smug contentment of time well spent.

Hidden Trails offers a guided version of this trip today – which is probably the better way to go.
Have a look on their website at http://hiddentrails.com/tour/greece_crete_explorer.aspx

At a canter but not hands down Endurance riding in Namibia

admin — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 22:28:00 GMT

Read a travel story by Steve Moger about their experience in Namibia on the Sambulenni Endurance Ride.

………….. We arrived at Okapuka Ranch, a large, well-stocked private game reserve a short drive north of Windhoek, the following morning, relatively calm and relaxed once more. This offers a combination of game viewing and active trail riding on the savannah plains and in the mountains. The horses are mainly pure Arabs and are therefore also ideally suited to endurance riding in this hot, dry and dusty country. Ingeborg, who runs the horse operation, is a keen, competitive and successful endurance rider and is only too happy to offer fit, competent riders the chance to train and take part with her. We had never tried or even thought of trying endurance before Okapuka was suggested to us, and it was largely because of this new dimension that, along with the precocious and loquacious Zoë, we became the first guests from the UK to take advantage of the opportunity.

Ingeborg welcomed us and showed us around the luxurious stables, introducing us to our horses - two each for the week, one for safari riding and the other for endurance - and acquainting us with the tack. Later that afternoon, after a lunch of springbok salad, we reported for a familiarization ride on our endurance horses. It was fairly uneventful; my horse only kicked out at one other and only bucked once. This inevitably led to the conclusion that she was called Sultaanah because she was a bit of a fruitcake (sorry, couldn’t resist), but no, within a day or so, we had arrived at an excellent understanding: I didn’t interfere in her business, and she didn’t in mine. The irrepressible and voluble Zoë had an injured wrist and incipient lumbago, but this holiday was a birthday present, and there was no way she was going to forgo it or be stood down. So, just in case, she was paired with the more experienced horse that had been earmarked for Pin, and Pin was switched onto the lively young Ameer. It was decided that the regime would consist of endurance training bright and early before breakfast followed by safari riding later in the day, although we did take the endurance horses for a long safari ride one day, the highlight of which was cantering alongside a string of oryx, and we missed training another day when we went for a long picnic ride up into the Otjihavera mountains and back through Leopard Valley, the highlight of which was … we should have been so lucky; this meant a double helping of training the next day. Training was essentially trotting and cantering.

And we also had to practice superfast untacking, sponging down to reduce the horses’ heart rates and trotting up on a longish lead rope for the veterinary inspections. By Friday, the day before the big day, Ingeborg was confident, certainly more confident than we were anyway, that we could manage the first two legs, which would be around 60 km. She stressed that the most important thing was for us all to finish. Places would be a bonus. We loaded the horses and set off on the long drive north through Okahandja to Otjiwarongo. At the riding club there, we unloaded, registered, collected our numbers, weighed in and presented the horses for the preliminary vet check. Fiendishly cleverly, we were all entered in different classes - Ingeborg 100 km senior, Nina (the older daughter of Fritz and Monika, the owners of Okapuka Ranch) 100 km junior, the chatterbox Zoë 66 km junior, Pin 66 km senior and myself 66 km heavyweight (scraped in by a couple of ounces!) - so would not be competing against each other and would ride as a group. In the late afternoon, we took the horses on a short circuit to stretch their legs and then went for the race briefing. This was all in Afrikaans, so it was agreed we would just do as we were told by the boss.

That evening, over a nightcap at our hotel C’est Si Bon, Ingeborg gave Pin and me a detailed mathematical explanation of exactly how many times we would have to rise over a distance of 60 km, so we went off for our early night in the comforting belief that we would cover the distance in a measured combination of trot and canter. The next morning we were up at 4 and grooming and tacking up at 5 and we set off at 6, just as the sun came up. It wasn’t very long at all before the scales fell from our eyes and we realized that, with the exception of areas of rough ground where we would have to trot and watering points where we would obviously have to stop, we were going to canter. And canter. And canter some more. Crikey, we thought, we still hadn’t made our wills! After 10 km of long, sandy tracks and dust, Pin was vermilion and looked as if she might explode. Ameer was full of beans but settled when he went on a little in front. The 5 km markers followed one another at what seemed to be distances of at least twice that. Ingeborg reminded us that she would not take any prisoners and that no whining was allowed. Not even from Pin. Canter, canter, canter …

After 36.2 km of long, sandy tracks, dust and virtuous patience, the first leg was finished. We hopped off to enter our grooming area and prepare for the vet check and discovered that our legs were finished too. I was numb from waist to toe, the slightly less garrulous Zoë tumbled over in a tangle of limbs, and Pin had to sit very quietly and breathe very deeply for the duration of this brief period of respite. Ingeborg’s niece Sasha trotted Ameer up for Pin, but the vet was clearly more concerned about Pin than her horse. Not wishing not to be taken prisoner, and with her heart rate back down to close to normal, Pin rallied. After all, the second leg would be only 30 km, so we were more than halfway there! All the horses were passed fit, and off we went again, fully aware now of what lay ahead. And of course, apart from aches and cramps straining every muscle in our bodies, except the ones used for smiling, the second leg proved slightly easier than the first. Or maybe we were simply dehydrated and delirious. The 5 km markers followed one another at what seemed to be distances of only 8 or 9 km. Mind over matter. We kept quiet about the oasis we were sure we could see up ahead in the distance. Canter, canter, canter …

After 30 km of long, sandy tracks, dust and saintly patience, we dismounted, more elegantly this time. The horses and Pin passed the vet again, so, after a little under 4 hours, it was suddenly all over, for us anyway. Ingeborg and Nina had to go again for their last legs (we were already on ours!). Zoë was lost for words and went for a kip in the Land Rover. We could even have got a few in edgeways but were quite happy to sit in the shade like zombies and drink the cool boxes dry. In the evening, washed and brushed up, we returned to the club for prize giving. 47 riders had taken part altogether. The big question: how had we done? It was all Afrikaans to us, but to our surprise, although perhaps not Ingeborg’s, the result was a clean sweep. We had all won our classes, with average speeds of around 17.5 km/h, and each beaten off at least 3 other competitors. All except Ingeborg, that is, who had not realized but had been racing only herself. We think she might have done OK anyway. The icing on the cake had a cherry on it: Ingeborg’s and Nina’s horses won “best conditioned” titles as well! Fortunately, the locals were friendly and didn’t seem to mind 3 British holidaymakers appearing out of the blue and muscling in on their event. And we were over the moon with our Okanjande Uithourit Klub certificates (who would ever believe us without them?). The team had a celebration dinner at C’est Si Bon and continued in the same vein back at Okapuka the next day with a few bottles of South African bubbly and some rather delicious smoked zebra, a special end to what had been a very special experience and achievement.

For more information on riding in Namibia, check out the Hidden Trails website at
http://www.hiddentrails.com/africa/namibia/sambulenni.htm .

Chose from a riding safari “The Sambulenni Safari” or join Ingeborg on one of the endurance rides scheduled for this year !!

Spectacular Trail Ride

Dale Andrews — Fri, 02 May 2008 12:56:00 GMT

I rode he northern rim of Lake Tahoe and it was awesome. A long ride with camping and a pack horse. Another ride I enjoyed was Nehalm Bay in Oregon. Riding on the beach on the long penesulia with mountains at each end beach while watching giant whales in the Pacific Ocean was an memorable experience. Ride my profile to find out more about my trail riding adventures. Dale

Banff National Park riding trip - a true escape from a busy life

admin — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 20:16:00 GMT

By Cheyenne Steffen

Summer vacation time is almost here. It’s nearly time to start wrapping up that last work project, take some time off and attempt to not think about e-mails, phone calls and deadlines. But how well did you do with “putting work behind you” during your last vacation?

In recent studies in Canada and the USA majorities of the people polled admit to being hooked on their cell phones for work and to keep up with social buzz. An AP-Ipsos poll reports that many people interrupt their time to unwind by checking in with the office, checking work e-mails or being inundated with social obligations.

Being “connected” is great for convenience and instant communication but not for quality rest and relaxation. However, there is a way to completely escape the trappings of our hectic lives and enter a world where an entirely new level of relaxation manifests. Last summer that’s exactly what 25-year-old Katie Long from Toronto came to Alberta to discover.

Her mom, Gail Marshall, agreed to be Long’s traveling companion and together they tucked away their beloved cell phones and lap tops in favour of cowboy hats and trail mix snacks. The pair headed to Banff, Alberta to begin their horseback adventure in the Canadian Rockies.

“My Blackberry is attached to my hip 24/7,” says Long, an account representative for a chemical firm. “It’s the first thing I touch in the morning and the last thing I touch at night. This trip is a chance to re-charge myself and put the Blackberry away for a while.”

The traveling mother and daughter booked a three-day trail ride with two nights staying in a log cabin lodge at one of Banff National Park’s historic sites. It’s a popular trip offered by Hidden Trails (www.hiddentrails.com).

The ride leaves from the stables in Banff where the first leg of the trip meanders at a leisurely pace through picturesque forest trails. The views, even in the early portion of the ride, are fabulous and include glorious mountain ranges, crystal clear flowing rivers and quite often a sighting of a herd of elk or two.

One of the best features of this excursion generally comes as a surprise to most travelers – it’s the air. The oxygen itself is delicious in this grand area of Banff Park. Your senses will thank you for the opportunity to breathe in the clean, crisp mountain air filled with the fresh aromas of forest foliage and rich dark soil.

“This is so much better than I thought,” said Marshall, 60-years-old. “I wasn’t sure about doing this at first but Katie was really insistent. Once I got here and took a deep breath… the air smells so good! I felt instantly relaxed.”

The first leg of the morning takes about 90 minutes at which point most guests are eager to stretch their newfound saddle-legs. The guides on these rides also double as cooks on the trail. They quickly whip together a portable cook stove, fire and all the fixing for a barbeque lunch. There is lengthy time to explore the area or even have a little nap before mounting back up and heading onto the trail for the remainder of the 10-mile ride to Sundance Lodge.

Completed in 1991, Sundance Lodge now sits on the original site of the horse corral for Ten-Mile cabin, built by Canadian Pacific Railway in the 1920s. The original cabin remains standing and was declared a historic site in 1990.

Sundance Lodge, built to accommodate vacationing guests, sits alongside a gentle curve on Brewster Creek with the Sundance mountain range as a backdrop. Built entirely with fir logs, the lodge has 10 sleeping rooms, a large country kitchen and a cozy living room area complete with a woodstove.

At the end of the afternoon ride travelers are rewarded by their arrival at the beautiful lodge. The accommodation is several levels above camping out in the open. It’s fairly luxurious and even offers electricity and hot showers. However, the lodge sits in Banff’s backcountry so don’t bother trying to use your cell phone because there’s no coverage. There’s also no television and no computer. What’s left? Just a flowing creek and resplendent mountain range to enjoy, not to mention a gourmet meal prepared by the lodge’s in-house cook.

“I’ve completely geared down already,” says a glowing Long at the end of the first day. “I love that there’s no way to check my e-mail or cell. The scenery here is amazing.”

There’s a fire pit and benches in the yard so several visitors gather in the evening for a bonfire and to be regaled by stories from the trail guides. The next day there’s a valley ride along Brewster Creek. You’ll spend about five hours in the saddle on day two but there’s another long lunch break and an entirely new mountain range to see.

Riders are mostly inexperienced or novices. You don’t need experience on horseback to enjoy these trail rides. The guides offer brief training and tips along the way and, of course, the horses are trained for the backcountry.

Traveling by horseback is generally the only way to access the backcountry in Banff National Park. The trails and area are secluded enough that you won’t see many, if any, other travelers outside of your group. This provides an optimal environment to spot wildlife of various species. It’s a photographer’s paradise and whether you’re a practiced photographer or not, the scenery itself will guarantee you’ll take spectacular shots.

“I haven’t thought about work at all during this trip,” said Long. “I’ve never been able to say that after a vacation before. I’ll be back next year, but I’ll book a longer trip next time!”

Hidden Trails offers various trail ride ‘escapes’.
In Banff you can chose between camping and lodge rides from 3 to 6 days:
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/ab_banff_lodge_ride.aspx

Jan’s Pack Trip into the Blue Wilderness Area – New Mexico / Arizona

admin — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 21:51:00 GMT

This spring I decided to take a pack trip somewhere in New Mexico. I looked in my equestrian magazine and saw a trip in the Southwest of New Mexico. They promptly answered my email and allowed me to bring my own horse. Since I had no experience with a professional outfitter, I didn’t have any idea what to expect. The contact suggested several times that I should ride one of their horses, however I had visions of dude ranch horses that would only stay head to tail and were dull and lifeless. I also didn’t trust that the horse would come away from the string if necessary, so I insisted on bringing my own horse. I chose my most broke, most calm & experienced trail horse, my 13 year old, Missouri Foxtrotter mare Easter. I could trust her in any situation.
The trip was over 900 miles from my home in Kansas. I made reservations to stay at Tucumcari, New Mexico at the Empty Saddle RV Park. Tucumcari was the half way point for me. The Empty Saddle was a nice safe place to stay with a horse. They had electric and water hookup and a large pen for the horse. It was close to a Kmart, Conoco and a motel and had easy access on and off two major highways (54 and 40). The owners live there on the premises so you are not left alone if there aren’t other campers.

I chose late April/early May because the days were warm (mid 70s to low 80s) and the nights were cool (mid 40s) and not much chance for rain. Jim will take people to different elevations depending on the time of the year. This trip we camped at around 6000 feet but rode up over 9000 feet. We actually got to ride two states in one week. We rode New Mexico and Arizona.

When I arrived, Jim, my guide for the trip, provided a nice pen to put my horse complete with hay and fresh water and fixed me a hamburger since I only stopped for gas and didn’t take time to eat. The place is on top of a mesa with beautiful mountain views all the way around as far as a person can see. That part of New Mexico is very desolate and cell phones do not work. You have to have satellite phones. Also, when traveling across New Mexico there can be 80 miles of NOTHING between towns, so it is a good idea to get gas every chance you can.

Monday, we loaded up in Jim’s trailer and headed for the trail head. All I had to bring was my sleeping bag, air mattress, clothes and personal items. They provided food for me and feed for my horse and a tent. Everything was packed on Jim’s stock. Since we were packing into the wilderness area, everything gets fed sweet feed and alfalfa pellets so it would be a good idea to get the horse accustomed to that type of feed before the trip. Easter didn’t have any problems luckily because I didn’t do anything to get her accustomed to it.

The trail to the base camp was beautiful with huge juniper trees and pinion pines everywhere and awesome mountain views as we dropped down in the canyon where we were to set up camp. Camp was shaded and had a nice creek running alongside it. Jim had some things already set up like the canopy over the dining area and the tent where he stored the horse feed and human food. He had picket lines run through the trees where we tied the horses and mules.

As we dropped into the base camp, we came from relatively flat terrain around the side of a mountain where we could look out over a valley that went down so far I couldn’t see the bottom of it. It was just kind of hazy with tops of trees WAAAY down in the valley. We were on a trail as wide as the horse which was no time or place for the horses to act up. My flatland horse did fine following the pack string. My heart skipped a couple of beats when I saw the outside foot of Jim’s horse kicking off the edge of the trail….

The most amazing thing about being in this wilderness area is you cannot see a radio tower, cell phone tower or anything civilized forever! It is just purely wilderness. There is no motorized vehicle access and we never saw other trail riders. This is why it is so important to hook up with a reliable guide service to experience this wilderness. Water is scarce so it’s important to be with someone who knows where water for human and animals is, as well as someone who is knowledgeable in surviving in a place like this.

After setting up base camp we rode out from there to several different places. There is so much varied terrain and the neatest rock formations that there is no way a person can get tired of any one trail. Every ride we took resulted in some kind of surprise for the day. We rode a canyon for miles until we came out on top of a mountain. The canyon was so narrow in places that my knees were inches away from the sides of the rocks on both sides. I prayed Easter wouldn’t shift from one side or another or stumble. The canyon was very rocky with boulders and narrow trails we had to negotiate. One day we met up with a mother cow that had just had a calf in the canyon. These cows are free ranged and they are not gentle. Jim had a heck of a time getting the cow to head up out of the canyon away from us but he got the job done after we got hold of his dogs to keep them back. They were trying to help but were making the cow mad and she was trying to charge Jim on his horse.

On one ride we found a marking on a tree. Jim and I are still trying to determine the meaning of the marking. He thinks it might be an old trail marking of some kind and wants to do concentric circles out from it to see if there is another one. I thought it might be an apache marking but someone else more knowledgeable of apache markings said the apache never carved on trees. One trail ran alongside some hoodoos. These are tall spirals of rocks. It was really neat looking up to see how high they went. At one point we were on a very narrow trail, with one side dropping into the canyon with boulders and the other side was at the base of these hoodoos. I was behind Jim and something snorted way above my head. Easter’s head came up and her ears were back and she got very tense, she tried to step sideways to look up toward the hoodoos. There was nowhere to step and I just took hold of her reins and asked her to stay going forward. She snorted back and got a little jiggy but otherwise stayed controllable. Jim thought it might have been a bull elk snorting. I figured it was a ravenous mountain lion!!!

We stopped in shady places to rest the horses (especially since mine hadn’t ever ridden in the mountains before) and I went looking for elk sheds and deer antlers. I found several. One of the wranglers named Paul had analyzed where the elk would spend their spring days and he felt that was where we’d find their sheds. One place we stopped, I went hiking around and before I knew it I lost sight of the guys and horses. I found out really quick how insignificantly small I am in comparison to that country. Every rise I’d walk up would not look familiar. I just knew I needed to go in a certain direction (or so I thought) but when I’d get to where I could see, it wouldn’t be where I needed to be. I whistled really loud hoping Easter would hear and whinny back but nothing. I started to get panicky because the last thing Jim told me and the wranglers when we headed out, was “DON’T MAKE ME GO INTO RESCUE MODE…” I was getting really nervous. I found a huge pinion pine that had fallen and stood up on it trying to see where I was. I tried to get still and quiet and try to “feel” where my horse was. I felt like I needed to go to my left up this hill. I made my mind up that if I got to the top of the hill and they weren’t there, then I’d go back to the pine tree and stay there until they came looking for me. I walked to the hill and THERE WAS EASTER AND THE GUYS. Whew!!! What a relief….I decided to walk in like I knew where I was the whole time, not a problem, piece of cake…until I got to Jim…then I blurted out I ALMOST GOT LOST!!! It was funny. He said well, you were out over an hour and I was wondering when you were coming back but the guys said she’s got her GPS…..NOT I’d left it in my saddle bag that time….I made sure that didn’t happen again!

On the last day of riding, we rode to a place Jim had found in the early spring while clearing trail that he called Mystery Lake. There wasn’t any water in the lake this time but it was an amazing place. It was more wooded as we were over 9000 feet. The aspen trees were larger around than any I had ever seen and there were huge Douglas firs everywhere. Jim said it was an old-growth forest and had never been logged. The Mystery Lake hadn’t been seen in 100s of years. The old-timers knew there had to be a lake or some water source up there because the animals would go up in that area and stay for days before coming back down but no-one had ever found the lake. We found parts of an old wagon up there and I carved my initials in an aspen tree to be forever immortalized in that special place. The only way into this place is by horseback.

The day we were packed out of our canyon headed home, Paul, one of the wranglers saw some fresh bear sign not far from where we were camping. The night before we heard turkey gobbling late into the night which we thought was unusual. We wondered if the turkey knew the bear was there and kept gobbling. Here is a picture of the bear poop on the trail…

I will definitely ride with Doug again and can’t wait until I get enough vacation built up to make another trip back. The next time I go out I will probably not haul one of my horses because I did not realize the risk I took in taking a flat land horse out in that wilderness (not to mention the horse was 4 days in the trailer getting there and back). My horse did great but Jim told me that usually flatland gaited horses don’t do as well as mine. He said most of them get too high strung having to walk slow on the trails, they’re not used to the altitude and not in good enough shape to handle the tough terrain. It is imperative to have a horse that doesn’t get upset when other horses leave it, that stands still and quiet if you have to get on or off the horse on a narrow trail, it has to be sure footed and be able to pick its way through rough terrain without getting anxious. The horse also can’t be a spooky type horse, and if it does spook, it should spook in place, not bolt, run backwards or whirl to the side as a lot of the trails do not have room to allow this kind of behavior without dire consequences. The wilderness is not a place you want to come off of your horse and get hurt, there is no way to get out quickly, or to get help to come to you. You have to trust and rely on the guide who is experienced in surviving in these conditions. I spent 3 months getting my horse in shape for this trip and I took my most broke horse because I knew she’d be able to go slow if necessary and that I could depend on her surefootedness and level headedness. Jim’s horses are all used to this terrain as he uses all of them every day and they’re good mannered horses in good shape. They are not your typical dude ranch horses. Outfitter horses are a different deal and I would recommend riding one of his rather than taking your own. Jim will plan the pack trip to accommodate the persons riding experience and ability. If he sees you are an experienced rider, he’ll take you on a more challenging so you don’t get bored. If you are inexperienced or would rather ride a less challenging ride, Jim will make that possible. In the 15 years Utrail has been in business, there had never been a guest sustain major injuries on a pack trip. My trip to the Blue Wilderness Area was a once in a lifetime magical experience. I actually felt as if I left a part of my soul out there and that just means I’ll have to go back again and again to find it!!

Author Jan Stalcup, Benton, Kansas

For more information on this trip and reservations, please contact Hidden Trails 1-888-9-TRAILS
http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=nm_southwest_pack&tourtype=PackTrips

Zambezi Horse and Elephant Safari

sklimko — Sat, 29 Sep 2007 19:04:00 GMT

I recently read Hidden Trails article about travelling in Zimbabwe. I went to Zimbabwe in September 2005 and had the best time of my life. Never did I feel like I was in danger. The safari pretty much stayed around the Victoria Falls area and there was a large number of security personal everywhere. More than once I was asked by the security personal if I was having fun and I what was I going to tell people back home about my trip to Zimbabwe. My response was that I was having the best time of my life and I am sincere in this statement, " Everyone should visit Zimbabwe". The Zimbabwe people are very sweet and kind hearted. They are very curious and very well educated. I have never been treated so well in my life as I was treated on this trip. This trip is a true adventure as you get to see a lot of wild life, we started in a 5 star lodge and then in some hunting camps in the bush, which were not really camps, they were more like a local bed and breakfast and one night we did actually camp along the Zambezi River in tents under the full moon. The staff waited on us hand and foot and even heated up the water for the "bush shower". What an experience! We took a two hour ride on an elephant and learned a lot about the preservation program in place for the elephants. Also did a side trip into Zambia to do the Gorge Swing. Similar to a bungy jump but the cord is not spongy. Another must do!

Surf and Turf - a special riding adventure in Uruguay

admin — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 17:00:00 GMT

Jennifer Gordon Smith flies via three different countries to discover Uruguay on horseback, but proclaims it the ride of her life.

“Where’s the nearest pub?” piped up one member of the group, as we approached the first sign of civilization for miles- a remote estancia and our base for the following two nights.

Of course there wasn’t one, but you don’t need pubs on this riding holiday. The sparsely populated, lush green interior is what makes Uruguay a rider’s paradise. It has enormous pastures to canter over, miles of sandy beaches without a sunlounger or overstuffed bikini in sight, and not a whiff of petrol fumes. After that, who has energy for a pub anyway?

It was in mid-March that I, and seven other riders, converged in South America to experience this equine utopia.

I knew little about Uruguay beforehand, other than the random trivia that it was the first country to win football’s World Cup- and I had to study an atlas before my eights day adventure (it’s on the east coast, wedged between Brazil and Argentina, for those equally in the dark).

Among our group of eight were a hurley maker (the wooden stick used in the Irish game of hurling) from Tipperary and an othopaedic surgeon from Limerick who had been riding only a year but had already spent the season hunting with his legendary local pack.

From the USA we had a 69-year-old bionic lady who ran her first marathon at the age of 65, and a Connecticut businessman, plus three high-flyers from London.

The ride began on the Brazilian border, in the beautiful province of Rocha, a four-hour drive from Montevideo, along one of only 10 paved roads in the country. Sally and two gauchos led the way-Martine, who played the “mean and moody” part, and the cheeky-faced Cesar. Both rode what seems to be the regulation gaucho accessory- a fiery chestnut.

Each day we rode for up to eight hours, covering nearly 30 miles. Having ridden sedately for an hour at a time around a London park in preparation, it was a shock to the system, but by day three, and after some medicinal gin and tonics. I had adjusted- with the help of huge sheepskins covering the saddles.

The sturdy native breed of South America is the Crillo. All our horses had fantastic temperaments, sure-footed yet forward-going and responsive enough to turn on a peso. In Uruguay, the horse is still considered primarily a mode of transport, but Sally is introducing British bits and vet treatment and our horses were well cared for. She had done her homework and we were perfectly matched with our respective steeds. Apparently the first canter, with Sally nervously looking on, is the litmus test. Her sense of relief when nobody fell off or revealed they hadn’t learnt to canter yet (which has happened) was visible.

I fell in love with Laura, my little roan mare. She was a pleasure to ride and didn’t mind my enormous hugs and pats too much (South Americans don’t do petting).

The tack is minimalist- some bridles consisted of little more than a string headpiece, cheekpieces and bit. Oh, and the girths have no buckles and are tied implausibly far back. But it all seems to work.

I’d never ridden Western before, but as soon as you get the hang of neck-reigning you’re away. To master the lope- the most common pace at which the Uruguayans ride- you slouch your back and sit with your shoulders behind your hips. Unfortunatley, this goes against everything my dressage instructors have drilled into me over the years and after a couple of days bouncing around with my poker-striaght back, I reverted to rising trot.

We quickly settled into a daily routine: three- or four- hours riding: picnic or BBQ lunch: siesta: another couple of hours in the saddle in the cool of the late afternoon, and finally a swim, drinks and dinner before bed. We felt very spoilt by having our horses tacked up and waiting for us every morning, getting banquet-proportions of food delivered to picturesque picnic spots and riding to the door of the next night’s accommodation.

As we traveled south along the Uruguayan coast, every day brought different scenery and unexpected sights, all beneath blazing skies. The riding is fast paced, with exhilarating gallops along miles of empty beaches- one of the highlights of the holiday. We passed through huge estancias and weird and wonderful villages, where we received a warm “hola!” from the locals.

We spotted a wealth of wildlife, including birds such as the rhea- a smaller version of the ostrich- storks and owls, Vultures unnerved us slightly as the circled overhead, and we also saw armadillos, one of which may have ended up as road-kill as we galloped (unintentionally) over it.

My favourite day’s ride was heading inland over wetlands, then up through the Don Bosco hills and the 300-year-old palm groves where Aberdeen Angus cattle grazed. We were then treated to lunch next to Laguna Negra (“the black lagoon”) by landowner Fernando. We started with a few tumblers of hooch, a potent alcoholic liquid fermented from palm fruit. The gauchos enjoyed the tradition of passing around a cup of mate (rhymes with latte), which they carry around everywhere in a thermos flask. It is a bitter, green, tea-like liquid drunk through a straw, apparently full of antioxidants as well as a mystery stimulant.

A full rack of wild boar ribs, stuffed beef fresh from the estancia, sausages, wine, salad and vegetables were all consumed as though it was our last supper. We ate extremely well on this holiday.

Our afternoon ride set off slightly later than planned, as our horses made a bid for freedom and sent gauchos running, Benny Hill-style, after them. Safely back on board, we scrambled to the highest point in the area for fabulous views and the regulation photo opportunity.

Beach riding in Uruguay is amazing. One rider described arriving on the huge sandy expanse of Barra Chuy as an “awakening”. As we neared the beach, the sound of crashing Atlantic waves and the scent of salt mixed with pine and aniseed had my senses working overtime. Visitors rarely reach this stretch of sand, so for six mile we walked, cantered, galloped and splashed our way in spending isolation.

Towards the end, we stayed on private estancias. The 12,000- acre Estancia El Sauce was our first sample of traditional living and the brothers who owned it welcomed us heartily. Together with their gauchos, they work the cattle, keep 120 horses and produce a substantial rice crop. Even riding round the estancia for four hours, we didn’t manage to see the whole property. But it provided plenty of opportunities to ‘Vamos!” (“Let’s go!”)- Sally’ cue for us all to up the tempo across the flat grasslands. My new mount was called Gato (“cat”, so called, as he is the traditional Crillo colour of chestnut with a dorsal stripe and tiger-striped legs).

We were led by Carlos, the estancia’s gaucho, and his two sons, both of whom had been allowed the day off school provided they learnt six words of English from us. I don’t think they learnt one, but they certainly taught us a lesson in race-riding, as they left us for dust galloping across the estancia.

Our second ranch stay, Estancia El Charabon, was the ultimate in luxury. It is set in a beautiful location and owned by Jorge and Graciela who, with their exceptional team of staff, went out of their way to spoil us with their hospitality and platefuls of exquisite local food, including slow-roasted pig. Evenings were spent sitting on the terrace watching the sun set, the reverie spoilt only by the incessant scratching of mosquito bites- a real hazard on this holiday. They paled into insignificance, however, when, one night one of the horses was feasted on by a substantially larger bloodsucker- a vampire bat.

On our final day we all donned our cowboy hats and tried our hands at gauchoing. We herded a field of Herefords into a corner and, after being shown how it should be done by the pros, had to peel them off and count them. It soon brought home how skilled these gauchos are. The bulls tended to do their own thing and we didn’t argue.

We were a morose bunch as we rode back to the estancia for the final time and said farewell to our hosts, horses and guides. Some 180 miles and a few bow legs after we’d all set out, broad grins and not forgetting a few thousand photos, it was time to go home. The thrill of galloping across grasslands, beaches and experiencing the Uruguayan rustic lifestyle had us all vowing to join Sally again soon to find out what other equine adventures South America has to offer.

Article first published by Horse and Hound July 2007

What to wear: December to March is summer and days can get hot. Be prepared for the odd downpour, though.

Preparations: some basic Spanish would be useful- we were all frustrated by our inability to converse with the locals.

Group Size: 4-10

Riding Ability: Intermediate to advanced standard is recommended, as you will spend up to 8 hr a day in the saddle with plenty of fast-paced riding.

Contact:
Ryan Schmidt at Hidden Trails.
Hidden Trails offers a variety of riding tours all over the world and came across this ride three years ago.

For more info on this trip, check out the Hidden Trails website at

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/uruguay_laguna_negra.aspx

The trip is called: Laguna Negra Estancias Ride

Call Toll Free: 1-888-987-2457 (604-323-1141)

Waterberg Safari Lodge - South Africa

admin — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 20:13:00 GMT

Here is a recent article about our Waterberg Safari Lodge - Ants Hill from "Horse and Rider" in the UK
Check out this fabulous deluxe Horseback Riding Safari on the Hidden Trails website at:
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/africa_south_waterberg_lodge.aspx

For more information on this riding safari in South Africa, check out the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/africa_south_waterberg_lodge.aspx

Drag Hunting in the Western Cape of South Africa

admin — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 01:04:00 GMT

After an overnight flight, direct from Heathrow to Cape Town, despite the early breakfast, it is a welcome relief not to have any jet lag. And as there is only 1 hour time difference during the SA winter or Cape green season, we can start our holiday programme straight away. We are met at arrivals by our genial host and guide Carl, who is our Guardian Angel for the full duration of the next 8 days of our tour.

After checking in at our luxurious, Victorian guest house and enjoying a light lunch we are introduced to our hunters at the nearby Cape Hunt’s country base where the hounds are kennelled. The huntsman and his wife, who is the stable manager, along with Carl, accompany us on our first ride around the Hunters Valley estate where there are ample opportunities for cantering and jumping. The ground is mainly soft sand with numerous natural jumps made from brush, stones, logs and hay bales as well as a tyre wall, bank drop and coffin, all of which are between 18 ins to 3 ft high. We ride through wooded areas, bush, and savannah-like prairies and along the edges of rolling hills of wheat fields for the next two hours before stopping to let our horses cool their legs in a dam. After an exhilarating ride we return back to our guest house for a sumptuous dinner of a traditional Cape Malay dish of ‘Bobotie’ – curried mince with a baked egg and milk topping, followed by a welcome early night.

The next morning we return to Hunters Valley where a special drag hunt has been organised for us and we are pleased to meet some of the Cape hunt members who also join us. We all thoroughly enjoy our hunt, with most of us taking all the jumps enroute, although there is also the option of going round them for those not wishing to jump. The hunt breakfast, which follows, is cooked on a traditional South African open fire. We enjoy one of the huntsman’s special lamb ‘potjie’s’ (casserole) whilst sitting under the trees, on the lawn outside the Cape Dutch club house of the stables. In the late afternoon we drive via the beautiful Franschhoek pass with its stunning sandstone rock formations of cliffs and gorges and the Dutoits River flowing far below enroute to the historic Houw Hoek Inn, where we stay for the next four nights.

After a short drive down the Houw Hoek Pass the next morning, we meet our horses which we will ride for the next three days, as well as the characterful, Afrikaans stable owner, Manfred, who entertains us with his tales over lunch during the following days’ rides. We set off along a totally empty, pristine beach where we enjoy some of the longest canters any of us have ever experienced with most of the horses happy to splash through the edge of the water as the Atlantic Ocean waves lap up the beach. Later, as we walk the horses along the shoreline we are thrilled to be able to watch from the saddle, numerous whales gathered together in a giant pod that seems to stretch for up to half a mile, just 20 meters or so from us. We ride on to explore the Kleinmond Lagoon Nature reserve and are lucky enough to see some of the wild horses living there as well as flamingos and pelicans. After a picnic lunch we thoroughly enjoy ourselves following Carl as he leads us at a canter up and down and round the sand dunes ‘bundu bashing’ before we reappear on the shore line again for the canter home, back along the deserted beach. Next, to refresh ourselves, Carl drives us to the Beaumonts’ Wine Farm where we all enjoy tasting their various different white and red wines, before we return to the Inn for dinner.

The next day we ride out directly from the stables following a former ox wagon trail up the Houw Hoek Pass, and at times along the side of an old railway line, which still has the occasional train running along it. The horses are used to the train, so when it does appear, we stop and let them face it, and the train passes without incident. We ride to the top of the mountain through the beautiful indigenous shrub land known as ‘fynbos’, where we stop to take in the spectacular view, before descending down to the Houw Hoek Inn for a late lunch, leaving the horses tied up in a paddock in the grounds. In the afternoon we complete our days ride by returning back to the stables.

The next morning we set out directly from the Botriver Stables again and spend the day riding along the edges of fields of wheat and vines of grapes and through fields of cows and sheep before reaching a wine farm where we stop for lunch. We complete a circular route back to the stables and say goodbye to our horses, and Manfred. In the evening we spruce ourselves up for a dinner dance held at the Houw Hoek Inn and despite the fact that we must get up early the next morning, we all make the most of dancing and partying with the locals until the end of the evening, although none of us can match the ‘two-step’ (a variation of the foxtrot), which the Afrikaner couples of all ages do so elegantly and effortlessly to the music from the 60’s onwards.

Somewhat subdued, we have an early breakfast dressed in our full English hunting attire, which we have all tried to keep as pristine as possible in our suitcases up until now. We have an hour to cat-nap or admire the scenery as Carl drives us to Spiers Wine Farm, the venue for our drag hunt. Our horses which we rode when we first arrived have all been plaited and tacked up and transported to the hunt so that when we arrive all we need to do in jump on ready for the stirrup cup of whisky or sherry (or hair of the dog…). We are lucky to be attending one of the most popular hunts in the calendar of the Cape Hunt Club and we find out that we are part of the 65 hunters that are riding that day. We have a great hunt around the wine farm over the next two hours and are able to enjoy spectacular mountain views when we stop at the checks enroute, as well as trying out different ‘nips’ from the hipflasks of various members of the hunt club as well as one or two glass of Champagne when the support team meet us at the halfway point. We say goodbye to our horses and join many of the club hunters for lunch in the restaurant at Spiers, before saying goodbye to them too. Carl then drives us to Cape Town and to our splendid Victorian guest house, nestled beneath Table Mountain. Changing our hunting attire for our glad rags once more, Carl takes us to the picturesque Victoria and Alfred waterfront. He leads us past stylish restaurants and a parade of shops full of African curios and souvenirs to the upmarket, Quay 4 restaurant. The speciality here is fish, which we enjoy whilst taking in the impressive view of the harbour.

The next day, Carl becomes our tourist guide and we explore the Cape Peninsula. We start at the magnificent Groot Constantia wine estate, which is a superb example of Cape Dutch style buildings, and we wander around admiring the traditional furnishings and paintings. On to the very British ex naval base at Simon’s Town in False Bay and then the really cute Jackass Penguins which gather of their own accord at Boulders and are only a few feet away from the admiring public. We drive through the Cape Point Nature Reserve to the most southerly tip of the peninsula and then walk up the steep path and steps to the lighthouse standing on Cape Point before descending for a well deserved lunch. Our last ride is in Noordhoek and is again another wonderful beach ride, but this time we ride ex racehorses - some of which still go down on their haunches before going into canter! We enjoy a good steady canter up the beach and explore the sand dunes at the end before we have our last, long canter home, through the lapping ocean waves. Carl drives us back into Cape Town via the dramatic cliff-edge road around Chapman’s Peak, enhanced by the spectacular view of the deep, orange-red sun, setting into the ocean horizon. We round off our day when we are joined for our farewell dinner by the Master of the Cape Hunt and his wife at the very lively and friendly Africa Café. We eat an eclectic set meal, which allows us to sample 30 different, traditional, Black African dishes.

On our last morning we take the revolving cable car to the top of Table Mountain where we enjoy wonderful views of Cape Town and its harbour spread out below us as well as the cute Dassies or ‘rock rabbits’ that have somehow made it to the top on their own and are only a few feet from us. We enjoy a 2 hour walk around the flat perimeter of the mountain to McClears Beacon and back before taking the cable car back down. Lunch is a real treat as Carl takes us to Cape Town’s top hotel – the very prestigious Mount Nelson where we are greeted by the white gloved doorman wearing top hat and tails. After lunch we take a stroll through the historic Company Gardens past the old Parliament buildings to the old centre of Cape Town, where we look around until it’s time for Carl to take us to the airport for our overnight flight back to Heathrow. It’s sad saying our farewells to Carl who has done such a wonderful job of not only looking after us but educating and entertaining us too with his vast knowledge of South Africa including its history and society. He has taken us on such a varied journey where we have experienced so many different landscapes, animals, birds, vegetation and people and of course, two great hunts. It was much more of an amazing and incredible experience than just another holiday and one which will remain very fondly in all of our memories.

by Janet Stevens

For more information on this trip and others in Southern Africa, check out the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/africa/africa-south/cape-drag-hunts.htm

Riding at Mt Kilimanjaro - Tanzania

admin — Tue, 05 Jun 2007 23:04:00 GMT

Private riding safari in Tanzania

Day 1: After an uneventful flight we arrive at the Arusha Klimanjaro airport. We paid for our visas, grabbed our luggage, and Laszlo arrives shortly to take us on a half hour drive to Makoa Farm. Laszlo and his wife Elisabeth own and operate this working coffee farm located at the southern foot of Mt Kilimanjaro. They’re both veterinarians, originally from Germany, and moved to Tanzania 10 years ago. They’ve been at this current location for 6 years and have quite a menagerie of farm animals, some which they intended to own, some that are patients, and others they somehow just acquired along the way. They have 25 horses which are used for the riding safaris (though they normally take no more than 6 guests at a time).
The horseback safaris are their primary business and either Elisabeth or Laszlo or both accompany each safari. Riders can stay at the farm, at a base camp, move from camp to camp, or a combination of locations.
Ndarakwai is essentially a 10,000 acre private ranch in West Kilimanjaro. Riders can opt for fly camping or stay at the tented camp on the ranch.
Accommodations on the farm consist of two guest cottages with stunning views of Kilimanjaro, a room in the farmhouse, and a separate guesthouse. Elisabeth and Laszlo are gracious hosts and the farm fresh food is delicious. Their cook, Miriam, bakes the best bread in East Africa! This afternoon after getting settled in, we went on a short ride through the coffee fields to get acquainted with our horses and tack (good thing as I couldn’t get comfortable on the Australian stock saddle I tried and had to switch to an English one). I’m on Marvin and Mark is riding Chinrose. On the farm ride, we saw guinea fowl, francolins, go away birds, silvery cheeked hornbill, baboons, sykes and vervet monkeys. Tomorrow we move to Ndarakwai for the start of our safari rides.

Day 2: We awake this morning to a glorious view of Kili. As we have our morning coffee and tea on our verandah, we’re joined by Josie and Sukari, two of the farm cats, who’ve come for their morning milk (ask for a cat bowl). Our horses and gear are being loaded and transported this morning and after breakfast, we drive part way where we meet the horses and ride the remainder of the way to our fly camp arriving in time for lunch. As there had been some recent rain here, the landscape is very green.
The camp setup is similar to what we experienced in Kenya, only here we have slightly larger tents with mattresses on the floor rather than on cots. There are shower and toilet tents and a tented dining area. At an elevation of only approx. 3000 feet, temperatures are surprisingly comfortable during the day and not as hot as we expected.
In the late afternoon, we start another ride from camp. We saw banded mongoose, impala, eland, Burchell’s zebra, Masai giraffe, common waterbuck, vervet monkeys, and baboons. We found that taking photos of wildlife can be tricky while on horseback, and trying to take photos of wildlife with your riding companion in the foreground while on horseback is especially tricky! Like walking, riding provides a very different perspective from which to view game. As we’re heading back to camp, I spotted our first elephant on the ranch. I could just see some ears flapping in the trees but as we rode a little nearer, but not too close, to the thicket of trees, we got a better view. The landscape is beautiful with the surrounding hills and the sun setting behind Mt Meru.
This evening after dinner, Laszlo takes us on a drive for our first look at spring hares. They’re adorable, like mini kangaroos, but dart around much too quick to photograph.

Day 3: We were up early after a very restful night’s sleep. I slept better camping on this trip than I did anywhere else. When asked if we heard the elephants near camp during the evening, we had to respond “Didn’t hear anything!” After a light breakfast, we head out on a morning ride. Generally what we did was go out on a longer morning ride, have lunch at the camp, followed by a shorter afternoon ride but on a private safari such as ours the length of the rides can be tailored to guests’ interests. At night and in between rides, the horses stay at a paddock nearby. During the rides, we would occasionally find a place to dismount in order to rest, have some water and snacks, and enjoy the views. Their horses are very well trained and responsive. A gentle squeeze is all that’s needed to put them into a trot. We were told never to kick as they’ve taught their horses that kicking means “an elephant is charging, run!” Aside from the previous day’s animals, this morning we saw spotted hyaena, warthogs, Von der Decken’s hornbill, lilac breasted roller, white headed and red billed buffalo weavers. We also came across a herd of skittish elephant.
A strong windstorm and some rain kicked up in the afternoon which made our second ride of the day look not so promising, but it eventually passes and we were able to head out around 4:30pm. The afternoon turns out to be beautiful and at the end of our ride, Elisabeth and Laszlo surprised us by bringing us to the waterhole viewing platform where they left us to have our own private sundowner before returning by car to camp.
This evening after dinner, we visited some friends of Elisabeth and Laszlo who live nearby. News that Mark plays guitar had traveled, and we spent the evening on their rooftop under the stars, listening to guitar music, while bush babies were screeching and fruit bats were flying overhead. It was a surreal and memorable experience that I’ll never forget!

Day 4: This morning we rode to the other side of the hills where the landscape is very different with open plains, not as much vegetation, and much drier. We saw the wild eland that decided to join the cattle herd years ago. Her offspring have all joined eland herds, but she apparently likes to stay with the cattle. We saw wildebeest herds crossing the plains and today I’m finally successful in my attempts to get photo of wildlife and rider together. It’s sprinkling for much of the ride which feels great. During the ride, Elisabeth spots some wild mushrooms that have sprouted on the side of a termite mound and we stop to harvest them. These will be lunch tomorrow. We drop the horses off at the paddock instead of riding back to camp, and there we got a chance to meet Nkarsis the 6 year old orphan elephant that was raised on the ranch. We greet her by blowing into her trunk to which she responds by blowing hot elephant breath back at us
We took a short walk back to camp for lunch before packing up and heading back to the farm where the first thing I do is have a long hot shower! For dinner this evening, we’re treated to a delightful concoction called ‘Makoa curry’. It starts with a base of rice and chicken or vegetable curry to which you can add a selection of a dozen little side dishes of chopped nuts, eggs, cheese, veggies, and fruits to mix in to your liking. On the walk back to our cottage, I got my first bite from a safari ant. Boy do they hurt!

Day 5: This morning we were asked how active we wanted our last day in Tanzania to be to which we replied “not very” and that we were quite happy to just relax around the farm before our evening flight home. Laszlo gave us a tour of their veterinary clinic on site as well as most of the animals on the farm. Among their patients were rabbits, dogs, cats, a pair of Verreaux’s eagle owls, and 2 bush pigs. Other animals living on the farm aside from the horses include a few cows, pigs, Frisky the baby donkey who likes to chase the dogs around and nip me in the back of the knees to get me to play, 2 peacocks, ducks, geese, 7 dogs, many cats, rabbits, and countless guinea pigs. All are friendly except for one vicious goose

We took a short guided walk from the farm to a waterfall cave to see the fruit bats and look for monitor lizards. No lizards today, but we did see lots of bats. The mushrooms we harvested yesterday were chopped and sautéed with garlic and served with a vegetable quiche for lunch. This afternoon there’s a strong downpour lasting a few hours, the most rain we’ve experienced in a single day all trip. After an early dinner, we sit around and chat some more with Elisabeth and Laszlo. I look at my watch to see that it’s already 7:30pm (our flight is at 9:45pm) though no one else seems to be the least bit concerned. Another 15 minutes later, it’s suggested that we should head to the airport and we say our goodbyes to our hosts, take one last pic, and are off on the half hour drive to the airport.

Patti and Mark (published on Fodor’s website)

If you want to see more about this riding safari or make reservations, please go to:
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/tanzania_kilimanjaro_game_trail.aspx

Sharing the Ranch Life in New Mexico

admin — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 01:36:00 GMT

Sharing the Ranch Life

“The cowboy spirit lives on in southwest New Mexico”
Article by D.K Tani

I suppose I was on the verge of being spoiled. After all, I had been to a few special guest ranches and seen some mighty picturesque country. But as impressive as my forays into Wyoming and Arizona have been, nothing prepared me for my first visit to the Gila Working Ranch a year ago. I’ve since returned twice to replenish my cowboy spirit. I can’t seem to get enough of the endless vistas, spectacular Southwest beauty, adventurous horseback riding and the perfect pair of hosts, located in Gila, 30 miles northwest of Silver City.

Owners Alan and Debbie Eggleston relocated from Colorado and bought the Gila Ranch only six years ago and have been accepting guests for the past four. In that short time, however, they’ve created the perfect “western rider’s ranch.” Under their vision, the Gila Ranch blends the traditional and contemporary into an ideal embodiment of ranching life. It’s no statistical anomaly that guests fortunate enough to discover the Gila Ranch return again and again.

The 30,000 acres (deeded and leased) provide plenty ---- and I mean plenty ---- of room for exploring. After three visits and riding at least 225 miles, I still have scratched the surface of seeing the ranch. We easily logged 25- to 30 – mile, all – day rides. I love to get plenty of working rides at guest ranches. To me, that means loads of cattle and ranch work, precisely that type of experience I can’t get back at my urban home.

The ranch offers that and so much more. The landscape is so stunning that I was torn between working rides and exploring rides. Lucky for me, on every visit, I had the perfect blend of both --- often in the same ride. Not only is there always another dramatically different view from atop the next ridge or around the next bend, but, as Debbie says “The views change so much with the time of day and season of year.”

Adventure Rides

While the ranch offers rides suitable for all skill levels, it’s ideal for advanced and intermediate riders. On each of my three visits, nearly all the guests possessed strong to excellent riding ability. Many were experienced horse people who have owned horses at some point. The number of guests on each visit ranged from five to nine people. The limited number of guests allows the ranch to respond to requests for a customized riding experience. And by that, I mean all guests sufficiently challenged by the riding offered.

Alan, a retired commercial airline pilot, leads many of the rides himself. When he does, he embarks on his trademark adventure rides. Alan revels in blazing trails and exploring new country. He epitomizes “the road less traveled” ---- or rather the road that’s not yet traveled. Fortunately for Alan and his guests, the ranch offers endless opportunities for his adventure rides, whether it’s over steep, hilly country or wide sandy washes for plenty of miles-long gallops. We encountered frequent 60-degree inclines to be rewarded at the top of the ridge with a 270 and 360-degree views.

During November through February, where the weather is brisk, these adventure rides take on a particular thrill. The ranch calls these adventures the “Wild Bunch Hole-in-the-Wall” rides. The common theme to these extreme rides is that they’re all done “hard and fast” and typically cover at least 2 dozen miles. Other than those parameters, the rides are unstructured. On one Hole-in-the-Wall ride, Alan led us on a favorite ranch activity: a wild cow hunt.

The wild cows represent the modern generation of the original ranch settlers’ Herefords of 100 years ago. These cows roam the more rugged areas of the ranch, which have plenty of dense brush in which to hide. With each generation, the cows have adapted to their environment, as they proved adroit at evading capture. On this ride, our stated goal was to spot, encircle, hold rope and brand at least one of the robust animals. The riders in our group, who each had participated in several gathers before, thought we were prepared for the wild cows. After all, the strategy sounded similar. We soon learned that what sounded good in theory failed in practice.

The wild cows weren’t accustomed to horses and riders, so they immediately took off when they saw us as for as 60 to 70 feet away. We were further handicapped by the overgrown, thick stands of juniper, mesquite, cholla, devil’s claw and manzanita. The wild cows merely barreled through these plants, which seems to swallow them as they propelled up and plummeted down steep hillsides.

For a couple of hours we chased in vain, our horses honest and willing. We ran after the cows when we could, but only often we could only watch as they disappeared over the top of the next ridge. Although we failed to catch and brand a wild cow, I suppose we were lucky that we at least managed to spot three groups of them (we thing all but one cow was unbranded) and, at times, get as close as 10 feet, if only fleetingly. Undeterred by our incomplete achievement, we nevertheless agreed the chase was worth it.

Recovery Activities

For guests recovering from a wild-cow hunt or another adventure, days spent closer to ranch headquarters are equally challenging and fun-filled----plus kinder to the body.

We took a crash course in roping from the ranch foreman, Maurice. In a single afternoon Maurice taught us to build a loop, catch a “cow bale” while standing on the ground, do the same while sitting atop a patient, standing horse, and then practice breakaway roping on real calves in the arena. Our success rate didn’t rival the pros, but in that short time we did improve and everyone learned valuable tips.

On other days we helped with more sedate chores like driving some ranch horses to pasture, or we gathered, branded and pushed cows. The ranch does its spring and fall cattle work over several weeks, using any or all several corrals scattered throughout the property.

For history or nature buffs, there are several interesting rides, as well. The Gila ranch adjoins the Gila National Forest and sits at the western edge of the Gila Wilderness. Riders follow the numerous creeks and canyons formed by towering, rippled walls. During our rides we spotted bears, Rocky Mountain sheep and deer. The ranch property itself contains places to explore. Wrangler Sandy can lead riders to the remnants of the settler’s stone cabin or a homestead adobe more than 100 years old. Also, because the area was once home to Chircahua Apache, the ranch property boasts American Indian ruins 800 to 1000 years old.

The Stock

The rnch has more than 60 well-trained, sure footed, highly conditioned horses, mostly from Mexican Mustangs. Aside from the Mexican Mustangs, the Gila ranch also has a few Arabians, a Thoroughbred-cross and a few Paso Finos. They’re breeding program crosses Arabian Stallions with Mustang mares.

The ranch generously attends to its horses, rarely allowing them to work without a days off. With the large number of horses and limited guest capacity, guests experience several well-broke horses. Every horse I rode was well mannered, responsive, fit and cowy. Other ranch residents include a small herd of buffalo that roam in a huge pen adjacent to the corrals; a pair of llamas also roams the grounds.

Scenery and Amenities

The ranch lies southwest New Mexico, and its 4500-foot elevation makes it an ideal year-round choice. During the fall cottonwoods and sycamores lining year-round Bear Creek bursts into shades of chartreuse and fluorescent yellow. In the summer, during the area’s monsoon season, the ranch explodes into all shades of green and other vibrant colors as the grasses and wildflowers take in water.

The ranch serves great home-style meals, featuring excellent beef and buffalo. Guests enjoy comfortable cabins complete with relaxing porches. Although you probably won’t want to leave the ranch, Silver City is 40 minutes away.

Debbie describes it best, “Sharing this lifestyle is really important to us. Keeping the cowboy spirit alive and well is what it’s all about.”

For more information or reservations, please check out the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/usa/wr/nm-gila-ranch.htm

Andean Mountain Adventures at Zuleta - Ecuador

Ryan — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 03:19:00 GMT

Our 10-day holiday as guests at Hacienda Zuleta passed all too quickly.

We were greeted with open arms by Fernando on our arrival at the airport and by Antonio on our arrival at the Hacienda. It truly felt as though we had come home!

Thomas was introduced to us as the person who would be looking after us for the duration of our stay. He certainly did just that! Both Thomas and Antonio proved to be amazing, informative guides who were an inspiration to us all.

All of the horses were amazingly fit and were a joy to ride.

We visited some incredible places – they were both magical and mystical. The scenery was more beautiful than words can describe - we felt not only as though we were on top of the world (literally!) but also as though the Gods had given their permission for us to be there.

The hospitality that was extended to us by Fernando and by everyone else was exceptional. Ever willing to please, nothing was too much trouble.

José Maria’s food was always delicious. (? and ?) cheerfully looked after us when they brought food out for us to eat when we rode for complete days and Lilliana’s (?) care of us all – and particularly her care for Sarah on the day that she hurt her back – was unique.

John and I were very grateful to Christina for giving up some of her time to talk to Rowena about possible work experience. Hopefully we will have more time to get to know her when we return!

Finally, it was great to see Alvaro and Marguerita again and to chat about the possibility of finding a Spanish mare for me to buy. I will most likely take Alvaro up on his kind offer of being put in contact with the right people in Spain, it unfortunately being totally impractical to bring a Zuleta horse to the UK!!

We are all indebted to everyone and were so very sad to leave. John and I truly hope however to return next year to once again enjoy what can only be described as “the Zuleta Experience”!!

MUCHAS GRATIAS, ZULETA

MUCHAS GRATIAS, ECUADOR

With much love to everyone from

Joyce, John, Rowena and Sarah

For more information on trips at Zuleta,
check out the Hidden Trails website at:
http://hiddentrails.com/america-south/ecuador/zuleta.htm

Honeymoon on Horseback in the Redwoods of California

Ryan — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 02:58:00 GMT

Story by Kate Van Pelt DeLoach

It wasn’t until after I planned our honeymoon, and my fiancé, Paul, paid for it that I informed him he wouldn’t be riding the gaited Tennessee Walking horses he was used to on our seven-day horseback riding trip on the Mendocino Coast. No fourth, smooth, running-walk gait for which the Tennessee Walkers were bred and known. Nope, just walk, trot and canter. Though not Tennessee Walkers, the horses sounded lovely and exotic: Akhal Tekes, Russian Orlovs, Arabians, Appys … but nowhere did I read “gaited,” the cue word for that fourth gait.

“You might want to learn how to post,” I said to the man who had entrusted me with planning our post-nuptial vacation. (Posting is when you extend your legs to rise and fall in the saddle with the horse’s stride.) Paul wasn’t amused. And he certainly had no intention of learning to post, I could tell from the real-men-don’t-post glare he gave me. For the next several weeks I could overhear him muttering to his roughest-riding Walker, “I’ll be dying to be on you out in California.” And, “I’ll be missing even you soon, Ol’ Boy.”

I don’t claim to be an expert rider—far from it—and Paul has a lot more experience on a horse than I do. But I had recently taken just enough English riding lessons to know 1.) the value of chaps and half-chaps (to prevent leg chafing) and 2.) the value of posting and riding two-point (to put your tush in the air when any other place is painful). I did manage to convince Paul to take his leather chaps. Perhaps he would survive the adventure after all.

Day 1

The flight into San Francisco was uneventful—just what I want a flight to be—and we stayed the night at a hotel. We got up early to drive north on Route 1, up the California Coast to Fort Bragg. I have been in California Wine Country before, and the ocean waves breaking on the rocky coast is as beautiful as I remember it. We arrive in Cleone, a small coastal town and check in at the Cleone Gardens Inn just in time for a meeting arranged by the host of the trip, Lari Shea, an award-winning endurance rider. Lari is petite and pretty, with a well toned and tan body that speaks to the experience she has as an endurance rider.

The group, at this point, is small: Celeste, a real estate banker from L.A., and her 10-year-old daughter, Brittany; Judy, a high school Spanish and French teacher also from the L.A. area; and Betsy, a computer programmer/project manager from Palo Alto; and, of course, Paul and Kate from South Georgia. Another five riders are expected to join us later in the day—the Gonski family from Alaska. For the 11 of us, there are four guides: Lari, Cynthia, Carolyn and Kyra.

Having advance information on the group members’ experience level, height and weight, Lari has pre-assigned our equine companions. I have been matched with Citron, a pretty palomino Akhal Teke/Arabian mare, and Paul has been assigned to Dakota, a large, muscular, Quarter horse gelding.

It is common among the “horse people” we know—including Paul—to prefer geldings (castrated males) over mares, but I have always considered this a little unfair. Geldings are supposed to be calmer, more predictable, than their moody female counterparts. And while I rode a perfectly behaved mare at Kitty Turner’s South Winds Farm in Americus, Ga., where I took lessons, Goldie is a school horse after all; it’s her job to be well behaved. So I am happy to be on Citron, to judge for myself.

The California beaches’ sand is coarse and granular—far more akin to the Atlantic Ocean beaches I grew up on than to the Panhandle’s fine, packed, powdery sand that I have grown accustomed to. As the horses walk along the beach, their hooves sink into the sand up to their fetlocks, and it is easy to see how they have built such well-defined haunches and shoulders. Citron is model-gorgeous, with a little bit of celebrity attitude, too—a nip here, a pinned-back-ears glare there, even an ill-placed kick towards Dakota—but as long as her transgressions stay aimed at our four-legged companions, I can deal. And then we turn around for home—a place all horses are eager to go.

I had the good fortune (in retrospect) of being on a runaway horse a couple of years ago. Without digressing into that nightmare, suffice it to say that I learned, after the fact, how to handle a runaway horse—turn him, or in this case her, into a circle. Citron’s plan was thwarted. But I think I’m beginning to agree with the folks back home.

The first two nights, we will stay at the Cleone Gardens Inn, a comfortable place with private jasmine-engulfed room entrances and a fabulous multi-tiered deck on the back. The owners serve us hearty breakfasts both mornings on the deck. And the Northern California weather is as perfect as I remember it.

Dinner both nights is arranged at restaurants in Fort Bragg. This first night the group is mostly finished when the Gonski family arrives. We order more wine and hang around to get to know the five who round out the group. There’s Dustin Hoffman-look-alike Jim, his wife, Pat, and their children, Brandon, 17, Meghan, 14, and Katie, 12. The Gonski’s are outdoor, adventure-loving folks—they own a whitewater kayaking company in Alaska to prove it—but have had very little horseback riding experience. They are on this trip for Meghan, compliments of Make a Wish Foundation. Meghan, who is battling cystic fibrosis, has loved horses all her life. And although her extensive knowledge of the equine world is primarily through books, Meghan’s wish is “to canter a horse on the beach.”

Cystic fibrosis (CF) is a genetic disease, Pat explains to me, that results in the faulty transport of salt in organs such as the lungs and the pancreas, which leads to a thick mucus that hinders the function of these organs. Currently Meghan is on a waiting list for a lung donor, but her parents are actively pursuing finding two living donors (they have one). As we all have five lobes in our lungs, and can function normally with four, the procedure is to remove one lobe from two donors and replace Meghan’s lungs with them. Potential donors for Meghan must have O-type blood and be non-smokers, says Pat.

Meghan is small for her age and frail-looking, which is typical of those persons with CF, but quite pretty. She has large blue eyes rimmed with dark brown lashes the color of her long thick hair. She began losing her hearing in the second grade and is now deaf—a common ramification of the medication that CF children must undergo. Her family signs to her as we talk around the dinner table, keeping her informed of the discussion.

While I felt a little odd when planning my honeymoon—that it would be with a group of strangers—I now feel quite blessed to be able to spend it as witness to this special child’s experience of a lifetime. It seems odd, too, that such misfortune can spawn joy. I sink into bed this first night feeling very special myself, just for being here.

Day 2

Today we ride in Mackerricher National Park. After breakfast, we each pack our own picnic lunch from a spread of cold-cuts and trail mix provided at the Ranch, and we pile in cars and trailer the horses the 20-plus miles to the Park. I don’t know if it’s a comment on my handling of Citron yesterday, but today I have a new mount: Indiana Jones, called Indy, a gray Arabian gelding. I must admit, I am happy about the switch.

I am learning what an endurance horse is all about. Our horses scramble up impossibly steep and rocky trails (too steep to hike on foot) and, even more astonishingly, they maneuver back down them. They trot and canter as much, if not more, than they walk. The horses never miss-step or falter or spook.

Indy is Harrison Ford, and more. He wants to go and to go fast. For long stretches of fast, uphill canters, he leads the pack, just behind Lari on Avantii, a chestnut Arabian gelding. At the end of exhilarating miles-long canters, Indy is barely breathing hard. What an incredible horse. Right now it seems like a perfectly fine trade off: our Walking horses’ gait for these Arabians’ speed and stamina.

Lari explains that Arabians make such good endurance horses because they often have an amazing cardiovascular system, capable of delivering a larger volume of blood with each stroke of the heart than some other breeds, so they work with a lower heart rate and recover to normal parameters faster. With a proliferation of little peripheral blood vessels under relatively thin skin, they are able to radiate heat out of their bodies to help cool down. And their relatively small size makes for a greater proportion of surface area in relation to body mass, so they can sweat and cool down faster than, say, a quarter horse. Which is why, as I am leading the pack on Indy, Paul is bringing up the rear on Dakota. Dakota is tremendously muscular, but doesn’t have the respiratory and cardiovascular capacity to keep up with the Arabians. And it is just as well Paul’s back there where I can’t hear him cussing me and Lari and trotting and posting—all in a very high-pitched voice.

Day 3

On this third day, we ride in the morning on the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The views are spectacular, and we take a lot of scenic photographs. The afternoon is free to explore downtown Mendocino. During lunch, Lari tells us some of the history of Mendocino as a logging and fishing community and shares photos of the early methods for maneuvering the huge redwoods from the forest onto the ships for transport.

After checking in at the old Mendocino Hotel, Paul and I tour the small town’s retail shops and galleries. The group is served an excellent dinner in a private room at the hotel restaurant and is entertained by a dulcimer player and balladeer.

Day 4

This is the day Meghan has been waiting for. We will all canter Ten Mile Beach in the morning on our way to Westport, Calif., where we will spend the next three nights at the DeHaven Valley Farm Bed and Breakfast and ride the surrounding hillsides during the days.

Lari often splits the group into three or even four smaller groups based on the capacity of the horses and the will of the riders (thus, the need for extra trail guides). Paul and I usually are not in the same group, but today we are. Cantering in the ocean’s surf is a beautiful experience, and once again I am amazed at how strong these horses are that they can maintain a fast canter—a gallop if they’re allowed—all the while their legs are plunging into the sand a foot or more with each stride in some places.

At the end of Ten Mile Beach, we get onto the highway (Route 1) long enough to cross a bridge (which in itself is a sight to see—more than a dozen horses trotting across a two-mile bridge shared with vehicular traffic), and we eat lunch on the other side on “Simcha,” property owned by Lari and her husband, Harvey, who has joined our ride this day. On Simcha, Lari hosts 50-mile endurance rides and ride-and-tie races (where partners take turns riding a single horse, the non-rider running on foot). Sitting on a clearing intended for their future home, drinking wine from Harvey’s saddlebags, the group watches a thick fog roll in from the ocean and engulf the hills. Simcha, meaning “joyous occasion,” is aptly named. Today is a joyous occasion—Meghan cantered on the beach!

Day 5

I am getting used to this lifestyle: big breakfast, leisurely pace, perfect weather. We have two guest riders with us for the morning, Deborah and Frank, and we get onto the trail in mostly our standard order—Deborah’s horse, Rascal, is behind Avantii, then Indy, all the others, and then Dakota at the rear. We are meandering toward the hills when the call comes out from the front, “Hornet hole! Turn back!”

By the time we realize the hornets are swarming us, several of us have gone past it; the ones who have not yet reached it turn back. The horses who have been stung are bucking and rearing; Deborah jumps off and Rascal runs up the trail riderless. Betsy is attempting to dismount when her horse sends her airborne with a buck. Her helmet cracks, but her head is saved. Most of the horses have been stung and some of the riders. We move on up the trail and meet up with the others who had turned back and taken another route. I am happy to learn that Paul and Dakota are OK. And I have not been stung either, although I can tell Indy took a fair number of hits by the way he is twitching his skin. But true to his moniker, he takes it like a hero!

Throughout the day, Lari teaches us about the endurance horse, how to read the horse’s pulse, heart rate and general condition, as if we’re at a “vet check” on a 50- or 100-mile endurance race. We ride on Simcha and the ranches surrounding it. We ride through the headwaters of the Noyo River in Jackson State Forest and through the deeper Ten Mile River in the privately owned forests behind Simcha, lunch on the river bank, and then split up into groups based on the horses’ fitness ability. Indy and I go with Lari’s group, along with Deborah on Rascal, Betsy on NightCap, Judy on Nature’s L’Chaim and Frank on Mustard. We ride an exhilarating gallop up one long trail (at more than 30 miles an hour) and pick our way back down the mountain along a ledge trail. It is on this narrow trail that we encounter the hornets again.

Indy is behind Avantii and Rascal behind us, and we manage to pass the hornets before they stir. However, they are in full force on Betsy, again, and this time Frank. Everyone is quick to dismount, as there isn’t enough room on the narrow trail to negotiate a bucking horse. We quickly walk/slide on foot down the mountain with nervous, twitching, bee-stung horses in tow. Frank releases a hornet from his helmet when we reach the bottom. And I slip a carrot to Indy, the perfect gentleman through both incidents.

Tonight is the night Lari has been telling us to prepare for—the night we are to entertain her with a talent show. Celeste, Betsy and I put on a skit acting out some of the fantastic stories Lari has shared with us on the trail of her life and travels; Judy and Jim sing a rendition of L’Chaim, for which her horse had been named; Brittany and Katie perform the one-body-with-someone-else’s-arms routine to hilarious perfection; Pat reads us a poem she authored; Paul and Brandon assist Jim in a sing-a-long; Paul tells a joke; and then Meghan silences the group with a display of her sketches. Most of her pencil sketches are of horses, as if she has been around them all her life.

Day 6

The last day of riding is a reverse of two days ago. We split into smaller groups for the beach ride. This time Meghan is in the first (fast) group with Indy and Avantii—cantering skillfully and joyously through the surf. The trip has been wearing on her fragile body, but you wouldn’t know it. She rides Faraj, a gray Arabian gelding, as if she’s been riding all her life—her petite frame and delicate beauty framed by the ocean’s overpowering wave-surges and surf.

Back at the stables we leave our horses, pick up our cars and head back to the DeHaven Valley Farm for our last evening and breakfast together before departing tomorrow. Mike and Bill exhibit their culinary prowess again with an astounding dinner culminating in some nameless chocolate creation that leaves us all wanting more. A trio plays guitars and sings for us on the B&B’s side deck.

Day 7

After the bountiful breakfast at DeHaven Valley Farm, we say our goodbyes to the strangers-turned-friends we shared our honeymoon with, and make our way back through Wine Country to the San Francisco airport and to our normal lives. And I think of Meghan, who will never have that normal life, and who made our honeymoon more special than she could ever know—she who may never know her own.

Thank you, Meghan.

For more information on horseback riding vacations on the coast and in the redwoods of California,
check out the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=ca_redwood_coast&tourtype=InnRide

STEPPE-ING OUT in Patagonia - Chile

Ryan — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 21:39:00 GMT

Terry Grimwood braves pumas and saddle sores on the wild plains of Patagonia

A hard westerly wind blows in from the distant sea, flattening the coarse pampas grass and whipping the tough matta negra scrub into a frenzied dance. The little horse with the puma scars on her flank shies nervously as a hare breaks cover and darts from beneath her hooves. Condors circle overhead, dark angels of the Andes waiting patiently for us to pass before returning to their communion with a sheep’s carcass that lies drying in the sun. With 20 kilometres behind us and twenty yet to run, this is no time to be dawdling out on the flat pampas. The fairy-tale spires and snow-shrouded columns of the Torres del Paine massif have been drawing steadily closer during the day, and now we are close enough to see its jagged profile reflected in the ice blue of a sub-glacial lake. Settling into the fatly padded Chilean saddles we turn to face the beckoning mountains and urge our uncomplaining horses into a gallop, dust flying from their hooves as we flee across the Patagonian steppe towards the promise of hot showers, chilled pisco sours, and a feast of local lamb barbecued over a pit of lenga wood.

The day before couldn’t have been more different from this mad stampede across the wind-blasted pampas. An amble in light rainfall along the banks of the Eberhard Fjord, with black headed swans on the water and eagles watching beadily from the rocks above. Then a branch-ducking meander through an ancient forest of Southern beech, the local Criollo horses sure-footed as they scrambled and slid down rocky tracks and shouldered aside the savage spikes of berberis lining the path. Flocks of green parakeets chattered noisily in the trees as the rainbow-arched sky cleared, and we lunched al fresco in the dripping, overgrown gardens of a once grand estancia, burned to the ground by its owner rather than letting it fall into government hands during the turbulent, agrarian reforms of the Allende Government in the ‘70s.

Patagonia, remotely located at the Southern tip of the Americas, is literally the bottom of the Earth, the last piece of civilisation before land gives way to the towering waves and lashing winds of the Southern Ocean. Patagonia is not a country but a territory, its 260,000 square miles spanning the lower extremes of both Chile and Argentina. From the storm-scoured rocks of Cape Horn to the verdant forests of the Chilean Lake District, it contains a breathtaking variety of terrain: vast acres of windswept pampas riddled with innumerable lakes and fjords; snow-tipped mountains rising from icy blue glaciers; and the steaming, rolling rain forest – and all with a population density of barely 1.3 people per square kilometre.

The trip is operated out of Puerto Natales, a frontier town of gaudily painted, low-rise buildings clustered on the banks of the Ultima Esperanza fjord in the southern region of Patagonia. While a number of tour companies in the area offer riding as an add-on option along with activities such as kayaking and hiking, they specialise in riding holidays; more importantly, they have their own horses rather than relying on renting them ad hoc from local estancias. Furthermore, their trips are always accompanied by an experienced, English-speaking riding guide, usually either Gustavo, who was show jumping and dressage champion of Chile for two consecutive years, or Heidi herself, who has been riding her own ponies and horses since the age of 6. On each ride they are assisted by a local wrangler, or baqueano, who takes care of the horses during the trip – and whose horsemanship is likely to leave even the most experienced European rider slack-jawed in admiration

While Heidi and Gustavo pride themselves in being able to tailor their holidays to individual needs and skill levels, the unquestioned jewel in their crown is the Estancia Ride, a 10 day trek from ranch to ranch across a wide span of pampas, lakesides and mountain trails. As Heidi says: "Our aim is for people to come to Patagonia and experience the reality of estancia life. We take our clients away from the tourist areas and show them the history and culture of the region, combining this with excellent accommodation, good food and exhilarating riding." With up to eight hours a day in the saddle, this ride is best suited to the experienced rider – not just in terms of riding skills, but also in terms of time in the saddle. Anyone booking this trip with Hidden Trails is well advised to ramp up their riding activity in the weeks leading up to the holiday; the slow-fading memory of my own saddle sores is a reminder that I didn’t take this advice seriously enough!

With over 20 horses at their disposal they cater for all levels of riding skills. My time in the saddle was divided between Heidi’s own horse, the mischievous William, who always seemed to want to be one pace up from the one I wanted him in, and pretty little Leona, still rather nervous and edgy after being attacked by a Puma last year but a delightful and responsive ride nonetheless. We rode in both Chilean and Argentinean saddles, very similar to each other in style and each copiously padded with felt and sheepskin, making them very comfortable on even the longest rides.

For wildlife lovers (and what horse rider isn’t?) the area is a constant delight. Apart from the condors, eagles and parakeets, we saw guanacos (small camelids, like dinky llamas), nandos (bizarre ostrich-like rheas that run at 40mph with their necks stretched out ahead), skunks, spiky-looking foxes, opossum, and so many varieties of wonderful birds that I regretted not having invested in a bird book before the trip. And of course there is the ever-present hope of spotting – from a discreet distance – one of the prolific but seldom seen pumas that prowl the area.

There is no doubt that Patagonia is a long way to go, twenty hours each way is testament to that, but therein lies a major part of its appeal: travelling there is an adventure; just knowing you are at the bottom of the earth is a thrill in itself. And if riding feisty horses across wide open spaces with stunning scenery on every side is what turns you on, then Patagonia has to be at the top of your ‘must go’ list.

To see more info on the 7-day Estancia Getaway Ride, check out the Hidden Trails website:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/chile_torres_del_paine_getaway_estancia.aspx

Riding at the Cape in South Africa

admin — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 20:36:00 GMT

Unforgettable is not the breathtaking landscape, nor the almost unbelievable history of this

unique country and its wonderful peoples, not the exotic animal world and not because of the adventurers in the African bush, but because of a man who got nicknamed ‘Bushman’ by his guests and who has the unique gift to combine for us all these impressions to one comprehensible Composition.

Yes, without exaggeration, the right description of this trail is to call it, a piece of all embracing art, which we were privileged to experience. I see South Africa now with different eyes! On my trail I did not only observe the wonderful landscapes and superb horses but also met some very interesting hosts with fascinating tales, who we spent evenings with in witty, intellectual conversation with lots of laughter.

Of course unforgettable remain the long rides along the dreamlike beaches of the Atlantic and Indian Ocean from where, out of the saddle, we observed nearby whales. But likewise unforgettable were the two days we lodged in the old farmhouse Goedvertrouw (Trust in God) of Elrida. She told us about the old days…. she knew that things needed time to grow to perfection, whether it’s the bread or butter, which she makes herself, or the wine, which she also cultivates by her own after her husband passed away some years ago. One evening on her stoop, one of my dreams came true: once in a lifetime to feel like Tanja Blixen in OUT OF AFRICA, with classical music in the background, laughter in the heart and the eyes resting on the endless African landscape.

With professional foresight Carl manages to instil into the guests an open view for this

country (and when on occasion this failed, his unique humour and the cool diplomacy of a man originating from Hamburg quickly got the situation under control!). And isn’t this what a traveller wants? To enlarge one’s horizon? And if this takes place on the back of a horse, what more could a rider possibly want?

Birgit de Fries

For more information, check out the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/africa_south_cape_safari.aspx

How Green Is Its Valley? Montana Deluxe !

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:50:00 GMT

Papoose Creek Lodge offers luxe ecolodge experience in Montana’s Big Sky Country

Cameron, Montana – When it comes to the ultimate green getaway, what if there’s no place like home? With a real-West twist on sustainable luxury, southwestern Montana’s award-winning Papoose Creek Lodge provides top-of-the-line ecolodge credentials—without leaving the U.S.

Catering to a mere 16 guests at maximum capacity, Papoose Creek offers its unusual brand of pampered seclusion with a combination of lodge rooms and private cabins nestled in the cinematically breathtaking, real-life “A River Runs Through It” Madison River Valley.

Executive Chef Michael Showers serves up the freshest of fine dining incorporating local and organic ingredients—with the gourmet picnic option always at the ready to accompany the lodge’s variety of guided backcountry adventures, including fly fishing, hiking, canoeing, and horseback riding experiences carefully tailored to guests’ abilities by Papoose Creek’s elite staff.

Opportunities for personalized learning about the region and its abundant wildlife—which includes the greater Yellowstone ecosystem and the adjacent 25,000-acre Sun Ranch, a leader in eco-ranching—enhance every outdoor adventure.

Papoose Creek Lodge takes seriously its mission to preserve this slice of paradise, working to conserve both the natural environment and the local ranching culture and community while providing an exclusive private escape for its guests.

Its commitment to its status as top U.S. ecolodge has won it honors ranging from
Conde Nast Traveler’s Green List and
USA Today’s “10 great places to tread lightly on earth” to
Fine Living Network’s Top 10 Eco-Hotels and
Natural Home’s “Top Ten Eco-Destinations in North America.”

For additional information, packages, and special rates, contact Hidden Trails in Vancouver
- Check out their website at:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/usa/gr/mt-papoose-creek.htm

Exploring Hungary on Kisberi

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:45:00 GMT

Imagine riding one of the world's most beautiful sport horses across endless, lush valleys, just a few hours away from Britain. This wonderful experience awaits you in Hungary, says Kathy Carter

I was fortunate enough to join a week-long adventure organised this summer, riding the noble Kisberi horse. The Kisberi has many attributes – excellent confirmation, superior athletic ability and the stamina of an ox. My trip’s Hungarian host, Janos Loska, also waxed lyrical about their superb temperament, docile character and willingness to bond with their master, traits which have seen them excel in show jumping, eventing and racing.

Rider’s delight

Janos, a former member of the Hungarian Eventing Team, runs the most successful stud in Hungary, with around 80 Kisberi horses. He has been organising riding trips since 1980 with his business partner Marta Jokai, aiming to show guests the beauty and history of Hungary from horseback.

The holiday is a rider’s delight; guests cover up to 40-50 km (around 30 miles) every day, riding for an average of 4 to 6 hours. The horses are spirited and the pace is fast, where the ground allows. If you are a thrill-seeker, this trip will not disappoint! This is predominantly because the horses are outstanding – you will be hard-pushed to find such well-trained and responsive horses on another riding trip. On many occasions, twelve fit and forward-going horses galloped abreast across the valleys in their snaffle bits, and not one tried to race the other, fight their rider, or bolt into the lead. This is due to their impeccable training, which includes them stopping on command when Janos whistles, an impressive feat.

With a choice of three intineries, I joined the seven-day 'Vanyarc to Eger Ride,’ which begins on Janos’ farm an hour’s drive north of Budapest, and ends in Eger, an historic town and famous wine-growing region. When Janos introduced me to my mount for the week, I must admit to a slight feeling of trepidation – the ten year old chestnut mare I was to ride, Thetus, is a former international eventer. No pressure, then. However, it soon became clear that Thetus was a wonderful companion – despite the odd spirited buck, she was careful, responsive and a real pleasure to ride. I trusted her implicitly.

Expect the unexpected

With the other nine guests, plus Janos and his groom Georges, we set out on the first day’s riding across farmland and valleys. I have never seen so much unspoilt greenery! Leader Janos had a few rules for us, which included: don’t over-take him, even in walk; don’t take your feet out of the stirrups to relax, and don’t ride one-handed. Janos meant business!

Despite some un-seasonal heavy rain, we enjoyed a short, introductory ride to get to know our horses, returning to dry-off in the comfortable rooms at the farm and eat a hearty lunch before setting off again in the afternoon. The first part of the week actually involved a fairly slow pace as the ground was quite wet, although as the week progressed, we rode out for longer and covered ground more quickly.

The second day saw some memorable action; crossing a field of rambling cows that headed in our direction, Janos galloped towards them and verbally ‘saw them off’, making sure they didn’t wander into our group of horses. Unfortunately, the resident bull took exception to this, chasing after Janos and returning the vocal challenge. What started off as being funny quickly became a bit scary, as the bull stood his ground and protected his women. In the manner of an optimistic matador, Janos and his fearless horse had a short stand-off with the bull, before Janos’s groom, Handsome-Tony, led us all away and we made a sharp exit up the nearest grassy track.

It became clear that Janos commanded respect wherever he went – the following day, we crossed five lanes of motorway traffic while he solemnly brandished his crop at the oncoming traffic. Although not all drivers we saw in Hungary were so compliant, on this occasion the traffic miraculously halted as the chain of twelve horses crossed the equivalent of the M25.

I soon discovered to expect the unexpected in Hungary – with few fences or boundaries to speak of, it is completely normal to walk through a field full of cows or goats, come across a horse-drawn cart collecting hay, or, as happened later in the week, happen upon a young gipsy boy demonstrating bareback trick riding with his handsome horse.

Fast canters and gallops

We headed north through some of the highest hills in Hungary over the next few days, the horses staying at local farms while we lodged at riding inns or local hotels. Although the facilities were a little basic on one or two nights, the beds were comfortable and there was always a shower at the end of the day. Very welcome when you are not used to riding for six hours a day! I must confess to aching a great deal by day three, but the next day I woke up daisy-fresh, my body finally accepting the workload and embracing the challenge.

The latter part of the week saw welcome sunshine, and many more fast canters and gallops. Heading to the small town of Bükkszek through the beautiful landscape of the Bükk plateau on day four, we rode abreast for much of the day (much more exhilarating than single file), galloping up steep hills to be greeted by stunning views across the valleys hundreds of metres below. The hilly riding was interspersed all week with walks in shady oak forests, often with hairy, plant-eating caterpillars dangling down from invisible threads above our heads, Mission Impossible-style.

A crime not to visit

It’s impossible to talk about this holiday without mentioning Marta Jokai’s legendary lunchtime picnics, which greeted us without fail every day at a picturesque spot. Handsome-Tony and the equally efficient groom Bandi would whisk the horses away from us to be tethered nearby, while Marta served up a range of bread, salami, cheese, wine and chocolate. This, combined with filling breakfasts of scrambled egg and cold meats and cheeses, plus scrumptious evening meals at local eateries, meant we never, ever went hungry.

Hungary is a wonderful country, and so close to home it is a crime not to visit. What better way to explore the countryside than on the back of one of the most endearing and generous horses known to man?

What you need to know

The Kisberi horse was originally bred for cavalry officers in the Austro-Hungarian monarchy at the beginning of the 19th century. It stands between 16-17hh and is solid in colour, commonly chestnut or bay. Kisberis are sometimes crossed with Thoroughbred and selected Trakehner horses.
Janos’ trips are aimed at the experienced rider, and you should be well balanced with an independent seat, and able to control a well-schooled but spirited horse at all paces. Riders are encouraged to use a forward seat at the canter, and, as the horses are sensitive to the leg, little lower leg contact. With good reason, Janos insists on the horses being well ridden.
The food in Hungary is hearty and filling – lots of soups and meat dishes, often laced with paprika. The wine is world-renowned, and on the trip you can visit a number of cellars in Szépasszonyvölgy, where you can purchase the local speciality, ‘bulls-blood’, a delicious red wine. Another speciality is Unicum, a strong liqueur made from a secret recipe of over 40 herbs. It is 40% alcohol - try it at your peril.
Janos and Marta are keen to show guests the history of Hungary, and on the last day, a sightseeing trip to the Baroque town of Eger with a historic Basilica (ceremonial cathedral) and medieval castle is included.
Average daytime temperatures in mid-summer are usually between 15-28°C. Rain is possible at any time of year, however.

You can book this marvellous ride with Hidden Trails in Vancouver. Check out their website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/hungary_kisberi_eger_ride.aspx

Ride and train on Lipizzaner horses in Slovenia

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:40:00 GMT

The cradle of the Lipizzaner horse and place for holiday

The stud farm Lipica, the cradle of the Lipizzaner horse is a living cultural monument, which reflects the history of education and breading of this noble horse. Founded in 1580 is one of the oldest stud farms in the world. The homestead of the stud farm Lipica stretches on 311 hectares of Karstic landscape between avenues, pastures and parks.

With the naturally and culturally heritage is a large attraction so for riders as also for daily visitors. It is offering the daily guided tours of stud farm, on which professional guides introduce the historical development of Lipica and Lipizzaners, they can take a look at stables with noble horses and to the remaining cultural and building legacy on the property of Lipica; the castle complex with Velbanca and church, stables from 18. Century and collection of works of art internationally admitted painter Avgust Černigoj.

Of course the largest attraction remains the Lippizaners and the accompaniment of rider and horses when performing elegant steps and exercising the dressage riding. Visitors can take a look to the presentation of training of dressage riding and performance of Classical riding school so, because riders like to show their own work with horses to the public or visitors.

For all lovers of riding, which would like to reward their knowledge and became aware of classical dressage, and in the same time discovering beauties of Karst Landscape, Lipica organizes the individual or group recreation and dressage courses of riding.

In stud farm is taken care also for children, they can mount ponies, the property can also be seen with the riding in a carriage.

With the many years tradition of rearing and breading the Lipizzaner and Karstic peacefulness is an ideal destination for daily visitors as also for more days’ visitors and holiday. For more days guests Lipica have two hotels. First is Hotel Maestoso, named after the famous line of Lipizzaner, which offers to the friends of Lippizaners, who needs the calmness of the Karstic country, comfortable and pleasant stay. Hotel has a covered swimming pool, saunas, restaurant and casino.

In the historical core lies Hotel Klub with pleasant rooms, sauna, fitness, restaurant and bar.

Staying in both hotels is enriched with characteristically Karstic culinary art.

In Lipica are also tennis playgrounds, mini golf and cycle tracks. Range of sophisticated Karstic landscape is ideal for shorter and longer walks.

The stud farm Lipica has, inside the range of pastures, meadow surfaces, avenues and groves, designed a net of different didactic and walking ways.

You can get more information about magic Lipica and the Lipizzaners on the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/slovenia_lipizzan_center.aspx

Watering the horses (riders) in Australia

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:33:00 GMT

For 23 years, people attracted to those two great bush institutions – horses and pubs – have been traveling to Glen Innes for a taste of both.

There they find another institution - a horseback tour business started by Steven Langley and for the past 12 years run by Steve and Alison Wood, with help from Jo Williams. Their trips are offered by Hidden Trails in Vancouver, Canada.

Based at Bullock Mountain Homestead, about 20 minutes north of Glen Innes, they offer mounted escapades that range from overnight visits to Glen Innes, to longer tours down the wild eastern escarpment – although the latter are becoming less frequent as leisure time shrinks.

But there is still plenty of scope for a unique experience.

An overnighter to Glen Innes, for example, involves the ride to town, a drink at the Railway Hotel, dinner at the Imperial and accommodation at the Club before returning the following day.

A longer trek crosses plains and gorge country to sample the delights of the Club Hotel in Emmaville.

And when there are the numbers, there’s a 10 day camp-out ride in August across some of the wilder country of New England.

“You get an adventurous city slicker, put them on a horse and go and visit a bush pub, and you’ve got the makings of a great holiday,” says Steve Wood.

Steve and Alison should know – they themselves are ex-city slickers.

Alison was attracted to the area by her interest in horses, then about 12 years ago she and Steve developed the operation, renaming it from “The Historic Bush Pubs Tour” to the more suggestive “Bushranger Ride”.

“The name can conjure up the wrong idea,” Steve says. “This isn’t a drinkathon, it’s a horse trek.

“People used to muck up a lot more, but we have to run it to fit in with rules and regulations these days.”

“Most participants are “average weekend riders”.

A two hour trail ride before longer treks is used to match different levels of equestrian skill with the appropriate mount.

The trek horses are a mixed bag – from Australian Stock Horse and Quarter horse crosses to placid Percheron and Clydesdale crosses – but they share on similarity; they are all trained and selected for bomb-proof temperament.

These steeds have carried people from all walks of life, Steve says: “priests, pilots, madams, vets” and just about every other job description going.

Most are drawn to the universal charm of getting around the bush on horseback, but there are other motives.

Some have a list of experiences they want to tick off, so horse riding may come between skydiving and scuba diving.

But many are also drawn to the personal possibilities of getting away from it all in their own country.

“We get parents – especially single parents – who use the trek as an opportunity to bond with their teenage children,” Steve Says.

“We also get people like policemen, who use it as stress relief.”

Others take a trek so they can talk in private about personal matters away from everyday stresses and mobile phones, in a beautiful, relaxing environment.

Interested ? Take a look at the Hidden Trails website at:

http://hiddentrails.com/tour/australia_bushranger_ride.aspx

Through the Wilds of Banff National Park

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:26:00 GMT

A grizzly bear stood just 30 feet from me. It paused from its romp in the berry bushes to gaze curiously at me, no doubt wondering how much of an imposition I might become. My racing heart went into my throat as the great bear stood upright on its hind legs.

Its curiosity lasted only seconds before it decided I was less interesting than the berries on the bushes. The grizzly went back to eating and I went back to breathing normally again.

This encounter was just one of the many surprises I got during my week-long Hidden Trails trip in Banff’s Rocky Mountains. I had been craving for an “unusual” trip, an adventure. For better and for worse I got exactly what I hoped for.

Day 1 – Arriving in Banff in the early morning, I daydreamed about how I’d look on horseback. In my mind I pictured myself looking like a glamorous movie star in a slow motion shot with my hair streaming behind me as I rode effortlessly through the forest. A beam of sunlight would break through the dense trees and shine on me illuminating my hidden but undoubtedly natural riding ability. In truth, my actual riding experience was minor at best but that didn’t stop me from my daydream.

On this six-day adventure trip I joined with a motley crew of outdoor enthusiasts and experienced horseback riders from all over the world. I’m the least experienced of the bunch and it takes only seconds for my glamorous daydream to turn into a very un-glamorous reality. It started to rain so I put on my two-sizes-too-big, rented rain slicker and starched straw cowboy hat. I look a lot like Billy Crystal’s character from the City Slickers movie, which is not really comforting since I’m female. My cowboy wardrobe is warm and necessary but completely erases gender and utterly lacks in movie-star glamour. The rain starts to pour so I button my coat.

A tough looking cowboy type, who I am sure will spit chewing tobacco onto the ground any second, introduces himself as our guide Barry Ferguson. This area is literally his backyard being born and raised in Banff and none of us doubt his ability or authority here.

Next, a stream of gorgeous horses is paraded into the corral. My adrenaline surges and I’m back to my glamorous daydream. Then I meet Shea. She’s the mule assigned to be my ride for the week. A mule? In a split second I revert back to being Billy Crystal again. I find out that the majority of tourists on these excursions ride horses for the trip but occasionally someone gets the privilege of riding a mule. Since I’ve never met a mule before I decide to reserve my opinion until later.

The days’ first ride culminates at Stoney Creek Camp where we get a choice of pre-constructed canvas tents to bunk in. With wooden pallet floors, the tents are scattered throughout the camp and are spacious enough to fit two people plus a lot of gear. I’m solo on this trip so I get my own tent along with the responsibility of unpacking and organizing the gear.

After a full day’s ride I was less than graceful lugging my bedroll, sleeping bag and rucksack over to my tent. Ughh… where were the strong, young cowboys to do the heavy lifting?

Along with being experienced horseback riders everyone else in my group was also an experienced camper and fully capable of handling their gear. They finish setting their camps long before I do but I get several compassionate looks and words of encouragement and I stubbornly persist with the task.

Later I realize it’s easy to take for granted all the lights the city offers at night. In the mountains dark is really dark and this is completely evident when trekking alone by flashlight to the outhouse. Note to self: avoid these perilous treks by limiting intake of fun drinks after dinner.

Day 2 – I have abandoned my fantasy of effortlessly galloping my mount through the dense forest. Did I really think that I could do that? Instead I focus on learning the skills necessary not to fall off Shea and to just possibly ride without bouncing like a rodeo clown.

The second day’s ride is scary but gorgeous. Barry takes us through a meandering mountain trail. At times, the brush is so thick I’m grateful for the over-starched hat that protects my eyes as I duck my head. At other times we’re on high mountain slopes overlooking surreal views. This area is so deep in the Rocky Mountain backcountry that you can only travel there by horseback. The isolation is evident as we continue for an entire day, never seeing other people at all.

Reaching a lower level on the mountain we suddenly see an entire herd of Elk calmly making their way through a clearing. They’re magnificent and only mildly interested in us. We’re further rewarded by seeing the herd’s babies rush enthusiastically after their mothers.

Day 3 – I’ve made friends with Shea the mule. I was dubious at first but I quickly learned that mules are not only very steady on their feet, making the steepest slopes feel smooth, but they can also be more affectionate than your average horse. Shea enjoys a snuggly ear scratch at rest breaks. This helps us bond.

Barry the guide is a “mule whisperer”, renowned in his industry. He takes time during our trip to show me a few skills. So far, I’ve learned how to properly rein-in, stop and slow down and even go backwards. This may seem a small accomplishment to a more experienced rider, but for me it was a stark jolt of reality. Riding, whether it’s a mule or horse, takes skill and concentration. It’s a challenge both physically and mentally as the rider must firmly, but kindly exert himself as the master of the animal. This is no easy feat since the animal has the advantage of instinctively knowing just how experienced its rider is.

Today we rode to Flint’s Park Camp, our second camp on the trip. The terrain was very challenging with steep trails overlooking 7,000-foot drop offs. The other tourists gasped appropriately, impressed with views of the Canadian wilderness. I was impressed too but admit to also squinting my eyes closed on the scary, steeper parts of the trail. Barry told me that closing my eyes while on horseback is a stupid thing to do. His point was quickly learned after I got whacked on the head from a nearby spruce branch I didn’t see.

At Flint’s Camp we unload our gear and choose tents again. This time setting camp goes more smoothly than before and I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. I make it to the kitchen tent in plenty of time to visit with the others before the huge meal is served. At each camp there is a large kitchen tent equipped with tables. The camp cook prepares meals. I’m relieved that someone else is doing the cooking!

That evening we enjoyed a campfire and the American tourists taught the Europeans how to make smoores deserts. The evening has become especially chilly. The days are warm enough to wear just a light shirt but the nights are quite cool even though it’s summertime.

Day 4 –A frosty night’s sleep. Literally. Last night’s chill turned into a Canadian freeze as temperatures dipped to – 8C overnight. The other tourists are stunned, most having never experienced these temperatures before. I’m thankful for being Canadian and able to anticipate what cold feels like. I made it through the night just fine with my thick sleeping bag and extra fleece blanket.

The tour company informs guests far in advance to pack prepared for cool nights but some people thought Canadian weather was exaggerated. Those people had a cold night.

Our ride that day was rewarded by more incredible wildlife spottings. Deer, Big Horned Sheep and dozens of mountain goats graced our day. I have actually become skilled enough on the mule to manage taking photos while remaining mounted. Plus we traversed a steep ridge walk in our pursuit of wildlife viewings, and I didn’t need help once. I am becoming an outdoorsy-type!

Barry shows us how to spot animal “droppings” so we know what kinds of animals are nearby. We spot lots of cougar and grizzly droppings as we go. Our tour group jokes about how we feel like prey knowing these creatures are so near. The nervous laughter adds some excitement to the trail and we ride on.

Day 5 – Spectacular ride today. The winding trails led us up high and then opened onto the secluded Rainbow Lake. This is a real treat and total surprise as no one expected to have lunch gathered around a lake. The trees surrounding this area are hundreds of years old and provide picturesque backdrop.

That evening we ride into Mystic, our final camp. I jump down from Shea and grab my waiting gear. It takes me only a few minutes to get my stuff unpacked and stored. I don’t bother with the careful separation of dusty to cleaner stuff like before, having realized that we tough outdoorsy-types care little for such trivialities. I am jubilant in my accomplishment and make my way to the dinner tent.

Day 6 – It’s our last day of the adventure. At times I wondered if I’d been crazy to do this. I’ve never been so dirty or had so many “adrenaline moments” at one time before. Our tour group jokes endlessly on the trail as we reminisce over our previous week. I join the laughter and realize I’m proud of myself for doing this trip.

I actually learned to ride and to do it reasonably well. What’s more, I had the adventure I was looking for and even saw a wild grizzly bear.

It’s a pleasant nine-mile ride from Mystic Valley to the awaiting mini-bus at Mount Norquay Corral. As we approach the tree line a beam of sunlight breaks through the dense forest and shines right on me and Shea. For a split second I swear I looked as glamorous as a movie star.

The Banff rides are booked through Hidden Trails in Vancouver. Check out their website -- there are many wonderful rides !

http://hiddentrails.com/canada/rt/ab-banff-expeditions.htm

By Cheyenne Steffen

Wilderness Women Adventure Ride in Banff National Park

Ryan — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 02:13:00 GMT

Banff, Summer 2007. Do you want to experience the real west this summer? Want to gather your girl friends, or meet news ones and get away from the hustle and bustle of every day life? In celebration of women and the spirit of adventure, Hidden Trails, will once again offer a 4-night 5-day women only ride, August 13 – 17, 2007 hosted by Holly J Wood.

Riders will have the opportunity to explore remote alpine meadows, tranquil blue lakes, and towering mountain peaks, all in a relaxed and easy pace that is suitable for riders of all experience levels. Accommodations are in the rustic but warm and comfortable cabins of Sundance and Halfway Lodges. Riders can expect sunny days full of breath taking scenery, sure-footed and loyal mountain steeds and lunches by rushing mountain creeks. Evenings will be spent gathered around the campfire sharing stories of life and laughter.

Wilderness Women will be fortified for their days on the trail by good food, real, good food, the kind your Mom made when you were little. Chicken dinner, baked ham, home made soups, pies and cookies, all your favorites, wholesome and hearty food.

The camaraderie created by the adventures found on the trail will become memories that last a lifetime. Experience not necessary only a love of wilderness and horse’s. To book or for more information please view the Hidden Trails website
http://hiddentrails.com/canada/rt/ab-banff-lodge-rides.htm

A Piece of heaven in the Connemara of Ireland

admin — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 01:18:00 GMT

Explore Ireland's Connemara on Horseback

Connemara. A timeless wilderness of lakes and mountains. What better way could there be to explore this magical land than on the back of a Connemara pony, behind the famous Irish horseman, Willie Leahy on the Connemara Trail.

Riders have been coming from all over the world for almost forty years to ride with Willie, on what is said to be the oldest trail riding holiday in the world. Our first sight of Willie is as he walks into the luxurious surroundings of the Great Southern Hotel in Galway where the riders have assembled before we head out into the countryside to begin the trail. Willie quickly puts everyone at ease, there is a warm handshake for the new riders, a joke and obvious delight in greeting some of the many riders who fall in love with this trail and are so charmed by Willie’s larger than life personality that they return time and time again. Willie, who is also known as the Field Master of the Galway Blazers hunt and as the owner of Dartfield, Ireland’s Horse World, is renown for his uncanny ability to match a rider with the perfect horse or pony. This looks to be an impossible task as Willie and his assistant plunge into the swirling mass of horses and ponies that have been rounded up into a pen and begin to hand them out to the assembled riders at the start of the six day adventure.

It is impossible not to feel a buzz of excitement as you are handed the reins of a beautiful Connemara pony, or a handsome Irish hunter. Everyone becomes acquainted with their new equine companion, some with an air that borders on reverence, others with a cultivated air of nonchalance. There is an intense air of anticipation amongst the riders as saddles are handed out and girthed into place. It is time to begin the trail. Willie casts an experienced eye over the mounted riders, his assistant hastily checks girths. Willie pulls his battered felt hat over his eyes and we begin the first leg of the 110 mile trip into the west. Any nerves that the riders might have been feeling quickly vanish as everyone soon realises that they are in safe hands. Willie darts reassuring occasional backwards glances to make sure that all is well as the riders settle themselves into the saddles and begin to relax and enjoy the feeling of riding an intelligent and trustworthy pony or horse. These are not dull hairy legged cobs but delightfully happy animals that walk out with sharply pricked ears obviously enjoying their adventure.

All of the Connemara ponies used on the trail are home bred and belong to the largest herd of Connemara’s anywhere in the world. The ancient breed has its origins in the stallions that swam ashore from the sinking Armada. Willie’s ponies are the descendents of those tough animals. Some of the ponies have the finely chiselled features of their Arab, Thoroughbred and Andalucian forefathers, others are sturdier, each has a kind temperament with a superb jumping ability. The bigger Irish hunters are all Draught crosses. Most of these horses spent their winters hunting with the Galway Blazers and working on Willie’s winter trail. The Aillie Cross Country Trail is known as the ultimate Irish Equestrian Experience and is a magnet for riders who love to jump or improve their riding skills over Willie’s superb event course at Dartfield.

On the first day the trail winds through a patchwork of small fields bordered tall stone walls, past thatched cottages and small stone farm houses. Willie seems to know everyone that we pass, shouting a cheery greeting to a lady who emerges from a picturesque cottage and then later bending from his saddle to chat briefly to a man in a car Suddenly at the end of a quiet lane bordered by hazel thickets the landscape opens out into a barren moonscape of limestone, as if a slice of the Burren has been dropped into lush farmland. The riders wind through the limestone rocks, our surefooted steeds picking their way confidently through the rocky terrain. We stop for a welcome cup of tea at the ancient Augnanure Castle, our steeds wait patiently as the riders explore, incongruous in our jodhpurs and leather boots against the backdrop of the ancient stone remains. Then all too quickly we are unsaddling the horses in a lush pasture, watching transfixed as our new equine friends dip their elegant faces into the water trough and then turn away to crop the grass, their work for the day over.

The accommodation for the trail riders is in luxurious hotels or friendly B&B’s along the route, where there is the chance to unpack and stretch out in a hot bath. It is wonderful to receive such attentive care after the long hours in the saddle. Any hope of losing weight on the trail is quickly forgotten as a delicious dinner is served before we crawl exhausted to bed.

After the gentle initiation of the first day the ride leaves behind the fertile farmland and on the second morning we catch our steeds and are soon heading into the Connemara wilderness. This is a wild land, alive with colour, huge soaring pink flowered rhododendrons stand beside the yellow heady almond scented prickly gorse bushes. Later during the year the gorse will flower again to contrast with the purple carpet of heather that will cover the mountain slopes. We forge through streams of crystal clear water that surge over the rocks, forming dark pools where the water is still. In the mountains we are far away from the routes that are trodden by any other tourists, the only other creatures in this awesome landscape are black faced sheep.

By now we have developed a confidence in our steeds, the group are in awe of their mountain goat capabilities as we scramble along the rocky paths that wind through the bogs. Willie leads us confidently through the bogland with an instinctive knowledge of where the firmer ground is. The riderless young pony that is following us as it is trained for the trail life strays away from the path and sinks up to its belly in a soft place. It scrambles free, ears at half mast, its expression filled with embarrassment, its white belly covered in dark, sticky peat. The pony learns fast, for the rest of the mountain ride, it follows the others, not wanting to repeat that experience again.

After eating a huge breakfast we would have thought that we would never be hungry again, but the fresh air and exercise have made us all starving. The horses are released into a seemingly endless sea of green grass. As the riders unsaddle quizzical glances are cast at each other as we all wonder if we will ever see our equine companions again. But there is no need to worry, the smart horses and ponies are aware of the treacherous bogs that form a natural barrier into which they will not venture. Lunch is eaten in the open. The dappled sunlight that filters through the leaves of a sycamore tree plays on a large tartan rug on which is spread our feast, thick cuts of ham, Irish cheese and brown bread, all washed down with lashings of hot tea. After lunch the steeds are caught without incident and we continue into the spectacular scenery of Connemara.

Even wet days have their special beauty. Lunch is eaten in the shelter of a pine forest, the horses tied beneath the canopy of branches as we stand in a mysterious fairy glen, dripping, beside the mysterious remains of abandoned cottages and dark hidden streams. The landrover brings lunch into the forest. We stand dripping, the sound of cheerful laughter echoing around the clearing each one enjoying the feeling of damp camaraderie as we gulp hot whiskey or tea. After lunch the rain clears as we head over the mountains, and all of the dampness is forgotten as everyone gazes in silent awe at the spectacular scene below us. For miles the Connemara landscape stretches in every direction. Granite outcrops glisten in the sudden sunlight, the pearly sheen of silver lakes and streams shimmer on the mountain slopes, a soaring swoop of myriad shades of green and grey. Far ahead on the horizon a silver line glows where the sea meets the sky. The breeze drops and for a while the lakes become natural mirrors, reflecting the glories of the mountains in their shimmering depths.

The trail is not just spent in the mountains everyone particularly enjoyed the day spent following the old Galway to Clifden railway line, our steeds gallop along the springy turf following the route that once brought carriages full of Indian maharajas and noblemen. Now it is deserted, silent except for the thud of hooves as they fly over the springy turf.

The day spent on the beach is the highlight of the week for many of the riders, miles of deserted golden beaches seem to be our private playground as we canter through the white surging waves, a mass of white legs and the foaming surf. An then, for the brave, or foolhardy, the chance to swim in the cold Atlantic water with our equine friend. The group of riders, stripped to swimsuits, shivering as we thread our way down to the water. The water is icy as it hits first our toes, then ankles and knees. Then the horses plunge into the water, the shrieks of protest at the cold water turn instantly to yells of sheer delight as the steeds begin to swim, heads high their legs pumping like pistons in the water.

It is with a feeling of intense sorrow that we reach the end of the trail. Our equine buddies are unsaddled and turned loose. There is a silence as we all realise that this wonderful experience is over. There is still a drinks party to cheer us all up before the final dinner together before we all go our separate ways. But this is the moment when we have to say goodbye to the wonderful horse or pony that we have grown to love during the week. And the time that we begin to make plans to return as soon as possible to experience another piece of Connemara heaven.

To make reservations, please contact Hidden Trails Toll Free 1-888-9-TRAILS

or see the website for more details at
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/ireland_connemara_trail.aspx

Tales from the Pack string in the Yukon Wilderness, Canada

admin — Thu, 08 Mar 2007 02:23:00 GMT

It is the first day of a six day pack trip and we are heading off into the mountains.
I’m always excited to go. Leah and I have the guests on their riding horses, the packhorses loaded up, packs covered with a canvass tarp and tied down with a diamond hitch.

Canvas, ropes and leather; the technology of mountain packing has not changed much in the past couple of hundred years, other than now the pack boxes are made of plastic instead of leather, or wood.

We will set out with our guests on yet another journey up into the wild mountains of the North. It is truly wild country here, without roads or even human trails. We go where we please, sometimes exploring and sometimes showing off our favorite places. We follow wild herds of caribou and bison, search for grizzly, moose, and wolves.

Our horses are a dependable, tough and good natured lot. We have a motto, “never trust a horse you don’t trust, but trust a horse you do”. We’ve trained most of these boys ourselves (whom are all geldings to keep things a bit quieter), from either young that we’ve raised or taken on as four year olds from feral herds.

Remarkably, with some patience and understanding of where they’ve come from, the feral ones have been very easy to train. Once they trust us and all of our gear, the idea of walking in single file through the bush and over the mountains is already in them. With some more training they can graduate from carrying packs to carrying people. Most of our saddle horses are trained to be real riding horses, responsive to the ques of their rider, while others have been trained to simply carry the person and follow the leader (“dude horses” for our absolute novice riders).

We spend each spring training everyone to a new level. They are all draft crosses, very sturdy, strong legs and feet, with lots of brains between their ears. We’ve seen from experience how lighter high-strung quarter horse types (“southern horses” to us) can’t function in this environment or at this job. Our boys don’t panic, they don’t hurt themselves and they are not afraid of the wild animals that we spend our time following.

Once we set out we spend the first day following a trail that years ago I blazed with an axe through the forested valley up to the alpine meadows of the Yukon’s Coast Mountains. Once above the trees we will travel along caribou trails up and over mountain passes, across high plateaus and between sheer peaks. We will travel each day as far as we like and make camp in the nicest place we find each night. No signs of people, just caribou, moose, bear, wolf and horse tracks.

Wolves are around us:

The first night of this trip we make camp beside a large meadow that was formed from a drained beaver pond. A beaver worked hard to build a dam, which flooded the forest, drowning the trees, then the beaver family must have been killed (probably eaten by a pack of wolves in the spring) and the dam broke, draining the valley which has now been replaced with lush green grass. It is now a perfect horse camp, with nice hills all around, abundant grass, a meandering stream through the middle and lots of mature spruce trees along the edges providing plenty of dry firewood.

The horses are all tethered or hobbled (depending on their individual habits of wandering in the night), the tents are up, the guests are chatting about their own show jumping horses and how they would compare (no comparison) to these guys negotiating through the rough terrain that they have just experienced. Suddenly we hear my favorite sound; the howling of wolves. It is a sound that will get anybody’s absolute attention. Whether it’s a person coming from a country that has long lost its wolves, or every moose, deer, caribou and elk in the valley, everyone stops to listen.

I look up and catch a glimpse of a black wolf trotting through the trees along the side of the hill to the south. Then, a minute later, a huge white wolf comes out of the forest into the meadow with the horses.

He is thick and mature looking with a big square head, at least twice the size of our big shepherd dog and pure white. He is the most beautiful animal I’ve ever seen.

With the guests in tow, I run over to the horses and escort the white wolf as he circles around and through all the horses. They move in closer together but then pretty much ignore him.

These boys have met wolves many times with us, and I’m sure that they know of many more that have been around that I was not aware of. Up here wolves do sometimes prey on horses.

There are feral horses in these mountains whose populations are likely kept in check by them. But it is usually only the very young, injured or very old that offer a realistic opportunity for a predator who knows that if it receives a jaw breaking kick during the hunt, then its own life is surely over. These wolves were probably just making the rounds of the valley as they have to each day of their lives and came in to test this herd for any weakness. However, all they found were nine very healthy, very strong, very confident big geldings who weren’t going to be eaten by wolves any time soon.

The horses all knew this and the wolves knew it also. All the while a third wolf howls from across the creek and up on a ridge to the south-west of us. The big white wolf then swims the stream and circles around us and camp, swims it again and walks around our tents eyeing us in a very relaxed manner. He then circles the camp and the horses one more time before trotting off to the East, probably hoping to run into an old worn out caribou bull.

I was not afraid for our safety but did have to reassure my guests. For some unknown reason wolves don’t prey on humans. In North America there has only been one confirmed wolf attack in the past two hundred years and because of its rarity there must have been something exceptional about the circumstances.

It’s a real privilege that we have here to be in the company of wolves and bears, and our guests feel that as well. To share the land with these great predators who have been exterminated from nearly all of their historical ranges. They are not to be feared but instead respected. They are what makes the wilderness here wild.

The next morning we packed up the three packhorses, saddled the saddle horses and rode up into the mountains and above the tree line. We would cross raging rivers, negotiate rocky passes, safely observe grizzly bears on the mountain side meadows, and ride among bands of caribou on the alpine tundra. We would camp and graze the horses in grassy hollows tucked out of the wind, drink from glacier streams, and look out at the whole wide world below us.

If you want to join us on a trip of a lifetime, please, contact Hidden Trails at 1-888-9-TRAILS

Or check out the website at: http://hiddentrails.com/tour/canada_yukon_grizzly.aspx

Equestrian Getaway in Mexico

admin — Thu, 08 Mar 2007 01:24:00 GMT

Rancho Mexicana combines Swiss attention to detail with Mexican exuberance and color to offer its international guests impressions of the real Mexico and the spectacular Mexican highlands as experienced from horseback.

By Rod Lopez-Fabrega and Mary Ashcraft

Mexico has a tradition of horsemanship that goes back to the reintroduction of the horse into North America by Spanish conquistadors in the sixteenth century. This tradition is alive and well as may be seen in country charreadas or Mexican-style rodeos and in the country's fine equestrian team that performs internationally. Considering this long-standing tradition, it is surprising that there are few opportunities for the well-traveled visitor to experience the thrill of exploring Mexico's magnificent highlands from the back of a caballo criollo, a disciplined but spirited Mexican horse.

This oversight has now been challenged by the recently inaugurated Rancho Mexicana, offering the adventurous traveler a view of "Old Mexico" from the saddle as well as outstanding accommodations and notable cuisine. Visiting riders experienced in horsemanship enjoy the excellent horses and the superior amenities offered by Rancho Mexicana - Las Cascadas, but so do guests who have never been on a horse before.

Located less than 50 miles to the north of Mexico City, halfway between the rural towns of Jilotepec and Tula off Highway 57 to Queretaro, Rancho Mexicana is the newest of a small handful of ranches offering equestrian vacations in this colorful and friendly southern neighbor of the United States. The property is situated in a stunning valley, several miles from the main highway, in what can truly be describes as the old Mexico, sparsely populated Big Sky back country with rolling hills and great wild flower-carpeted savannahs, yet accessible to several fascinating towns and the important and spectacular ruins of ancient Tula, seat of the Toltec empire. Private transfer from Mexico City airport directly to the ranch is highly recommended and can be arranged by Rancho Las Cascadas. It is a pleasant ride of from one to two hours, depending on Mexico City traffic, which is a nightmare on Friday afternoons and heavy every day at going home time.

Rancho Mexicana :

Rancho Mexicana, owned and operated by Swiss-born Ursula Wipraechtiger, offers riders of all skill levels as well as non-riders the comforts of her small ranch that include all the color and imagination of Mexico's country interiors plus five-star quality service, marvelous cuisine, and a stable of spirited but disciplined horses, all supervised with Swiss efficiency and attention to detail. Las Cascadas can accommodate up to 20 guests, though ten visitors or less make up the average complement, making for an unprecedented amount of personal attention to the interests and wishes of individual guests. The guest log includes comments from pleased visitors from Europe and North America, among them this commentary from American Kimberley A. :

"I'll never forget sipping a margarita on the terrace and watching the sun set after an amazing day of riding! I can't wait to get back."
I

The Ranch sits on the edges of a ravine crowned by a spectacular waterfall that feeds a secluded swimming hole. The water is often on the cool side for the timid wader as the daytime air temperature in this Mexican Eden averages between the mid 70's to mid 80's year round, rarely uncomfortably warm and frequently requiring a light blanket for comfortable sleeping at night as evening temperatures drop in this Big Sky countryside.

La Cocina:

Meals require special mention. Supervised by an amazing young chef, Valentín Tolentín Sanchez, three square meals daily are a feast for gourmands. Vale in close collaboration with Ursula prepares an international cuisine with a definite Mexican accent. Extraordinary attention is given to protecting guests from Toltec Tummy, and this includes the universal use of bottled water even for the preparation of soups. A typical supper might begin with a delicate cold avocado soup, continue with a savory chicken in chocolate mole sauce and end with a refreshing dessert of lime sorbet in vodka. Complementary wines accompany lunches and dinners. Vale's artistic talents are not confined to the kitchen. The table setting for each dinner is splendidly appropriate to the menu and to any special feast days that may coincide with a meal. As an example, chicken in chocolate mole sauce is served as the main course on the Day of the Dead (All Hallow's Eve)--a tradition in Mexico since the time of the Aztecs--and Vale decorates the table with colorful traditional offerings of the holiday as well as American-style carved pumpkins, along with the ranch's fine crystal ware and china settings. The same attention is given to other holidays.

After dinner entertainments might include an evening of folk songs and old Mexican ballads sung by talented guitarist, Jesús González Magallanes, a local artist. The evening very likely will include an exhibition of Mexican folk dances performed by Eduardo "Lalo" Gonzalez Corona, general manager of Las Cascadas, master of quality control, right-hand man to Ursula and a former dancer in the internationally acclaimed Ballet Folklórico de México. Lalo will bring along a former partner in the Ballet Folklórico to give guests a sampling of authentic folk dances from different regions of Mexico. A perfectionist in everything he does, Lalo takes great care to see that his and his partner's costumes, the music and the intricate steps of the dance are absolutely authentic in every detail.

Los Caballos:

Then there are the horses. Amigo, Machete, Petrush, Sultan, Merlin, Apache, Ambar, El Duque and Dalí are the animals most often used by guests. These and the other horses in Las Cascadas' stables are all gelded Mexican quarter horses mixed with criollos, the small native animal. A firm admirer of "Horse Whisperer" training for her horses, Ursula has a stable of well-mannered animals that are remarkably responsive, tolerant of beginners, yet spirited enough to satisfy the most experienced rider. Ursula or one of her assistants accompanies every group ride, keeping an eye on progress all the way and making firm rules that include assuring everyone's preparedness before a group canter or gallop is initiated.

Gear includes comfortable Mexican saddles with high backs and lots of handholds for beginners. You may run into such terms as: la silla (the saddle), la campana (the pommel), el freno (the bit), la teja (the cantle or rear portion of the saddle tree), la cincha (the belly band that holds the saddle on the horse), or el estribo (the stirrup). However, all the horses speak English, Swiss, German and French in addition to their native Spanish. Everything is provided, and all you need to bring along for the rides are your boots or hard-soled shoes, long pants (blue-jeans are best), a long-sleeved shirt, a hat and sunscreen.

All-day rides are punctuated by wonderful picnic lunches, spirited in to shady glens and scenic corners by Las Cascadas' staff, always a welcome surprise for hungry and tired riders halfway through a full day in the saddle.

With more than 7,000 acres to roam around in the valley, trail rides vary from open savannah to small climbs up rolling hills to rocky descents into heavily wooded ravines and across gentle streams and can vary from several hours to all-day excursions to local villages and special scenic destinations. Several working ranches as well as the ruins of haciendas dating back to pre-revolution times are in the area and are available for Ursula's riders to explore. Trail rides are not nose-to-tail, single file events, and free rides are encouraged, except when descending steep and rocky inclines.

Excursiones:

For both riders and non-riders, multiple side excursions can be arranged to interesting locales for sightseeing, shopping and experiencing some of the many traditional feast days for which Mexico is so famous as well as visiting one of the oldest and most important archaeological sites in Mexico.

Archaeología: TULA

A short twenty-minute drive from Rancho Mexicana to the city of Tula and its famous Toltec Ruins is a fascinating morning well spent discovering ancient Mexico before the arrival of the Aztec culture. As visitors enter the complex, the first stop will be a small but interesting museum where Toltec artifacts are displayed and a history of this pre-Columbian culture is explained. There is a modest entrance fee. A short walk leads to the complex of temple ruins.

The old Aztec histories claim the Toltecs as their admired ancestors. The analogy comes close to the high regard and admiration the Romans had for the Greeks and their culture. The vast Toltec empire extended from what is now New Mexico in the United States to Costa Rica in Central America. There is a legend that Tula, the Toltec capital, was a city of grand palaces decorated with gemstones of Jade, turquoise, of gold and the brightly colored feathers of the Quetzal bird. Unfortunately, these trappings of empire have disappeared along with the more humble abodes that dotted the land surrounding the site.

For the visitor today, the first sight of Pyramid B capped with towering columns sculpted in the form of giant warriors silhouetted against the incredible Mexican blue sky is instructive of the sophistication of this ancient culture. Called Atlantes after the atlatl dart thrower weapon they carry, each stone carving depicts a warrior wearing head feathers, a breastplate to resemble a butterfly, and he wears a decorated breechclout covering him to the thigh, with its strings held in back by two discs representing the sun. His right hand carries an atlatl and the left hand the spears or arrows. Other ruins in the complex include two ball courts, the "Burnt Palace", a plaza where religious and military ceremonies took place, and the Coatepantli or serpent wall. Some color remains on the wall where replicas of snakes are shown eating human skeletons, an indication of how the Toltecs eventually became a brutal military empire.

Fiestas: Tepotzotlán

Mexico likes to celebrate, and many folklore events as well as religious holidays take place year round with much color and festivity. Guests of Rancho Mexicana are encouraged to visit all that take place in the area. Guests are in for a special treat if their visit coincides with the celebration of Los Días de los Muertos or Day of the Dead. Some countries call the event that takes place late in October and early November All Souls' Day, others Halloween. A short drive away from Las Cascadas in the city of Tepotzotlán, Day of the Dead is a joyful celebration full of life and color. In and around the Zócalo, a tree-shaded plaza in front of the cathedral, it is a festive, three-day occasion with masses of orange Marigold flowers everywhere clustered along pathways, encircling lighted votive candles and scattered on tree trunks and branches. There are skeletons at every turn, life size ones made of terra cotta, grinning bony grins from under large sombreros, playing guitars and drums, doing all the fun things they did as living beings, while other twenty-foot-high giant skeletons made of wire and cloth stand guard over the park entrances. Hanging from tree to tree on strings are brightly colored red, yellow, blue and purple papel picado, those traditional Mexican cutout paper banners.

There are memorials for deceased family members and even one for the famous Mexican painter Frieda Khalo. Booths are set up around the Zócalo chock full of candies, nuts, pottery, clothes (traditional or functional), straw hats for ladies or for vaqueros. There are sellers of balloons in the shape of Spiderman or Superman, pink cotton candy on the verge of melting in the heat, and food, food, food. In the center of the Zócalo is a stage where dancers in costume perform many of the typical Mexican dances to music booming from loud speakers. All in all it is a fitting and happy way to remember the lives of the departed loved ones.

Tepotzotlán is a fascinating city not yet overrun by turistas. Tepotzotlán is a Nahuatl word meaning "Among the Hunchbacks", referring to the mountain peaks that surround the city. In the 1500's, this thriving provincial town was one of colonial Spain's most important cultural centers with Franciscans and Jesuits establishing schools for teaching the Indians reading and writing, instructing them in Christian doctrine and bringing young novices into the church. San Francisco Javier church is one of the New Spanish 15th century churches that has preserved its original architecture, paintings and sculpture. The amazing façade is a riot of carved angels, saints and medicinal indigenous plants used decoratively. In the center of all is the Virgin Mary and on the very top with wings outstretched is an archangel guarding them all. After its many lives through the centuries, the church has now been converted into the Archeological and Historical Institute, housing some of the finest artistic and cultural artifacts and displays of Mexico's formative Colonial period under the aegis of Spain. There are period paintings by prominent Mexican artists, gilded sculpture, delicate carvings of altarpieces and saints and virgins, and ivory sculpture from the Far East. From China, one image of Jesus follows the curve of the elephant tusk from which it was carved

The driver will drop off ranch guests for a half-day or full day of exploring this celebration of the "real Mexico" and pick them up later for a short drive back to the ranch for rest, a special Day of the Dead dinner and preparation for an early morning ride the following day.

Fiestas: Jilotepec

There is another face to El Dia de Los Muertos and it's not far from the ranch in a town called Jilotepec. It is an event that, normally is not advertised widely to the tourist trade. However, Ursula and her staff are knowledgeable about the customs, people, and celebrations in the surrounding countryside and are happy to open these doors for their guests. The Aztec Indians in Mexico celebrated the circle of life and death hundreds of years ago. Each autumn they played their musical instruments made of turtle shells and gourds, lit candles, and left food as an invitation for their relatives to visit them. They dropped zempasuchil or Marigold petals along the path to the graveyard so the dead could find their way because the Aztecs considered orange a sacred color and Marigolds were flowers of the dead.

In early morning on the second of November, the flower sellers arrive at the cemetery. Thousands of orange Marigolds, purple Cockscombs, white Baby's Breath, and violet Iris line the road to the entrance gate, but the preferred flowers are the bright orange Marigolds that represent the sun. Stalls along the way sell sweet Pan de Muertos--bread of the dead--decorated with flowers or names, men have brought sugar cane wands in from the fields, there are mounds of pecans, almonds, sun flower seeds and walnuts, the pungent aroma of tamales and enchiladas tingle the nostrils and excite the stomach, and there are candy coffins and chocolate skulls for the children.

Inside, the cemetery is bustling with families placing flowers on the graves while others bring water to keep the flowers fresh. Some of the favored food and drink that the returning dead liked are also placed on the grave. You will see family photographs and little dishes of breads, sweets, and perhaps a bottle of Tequila. Also, there could be small jars filled with water and salt that are the essences of life. At night, the graves are prepared and familiar and loving stories of the departed begin as hundreds of candles are lit and the quiet strumming of guitars is heard.

El Mercado, the Friday Market in Jilotepec:

Every Friday, the nearby town of Jilotepec puts on a major street market where the shopper can find anything and everything--from cowboy boots to ceramic dishes, plastic dishes to finely embroidered blouses. The drivers will take interested guests to town for several hours or a full day of shopping.

For rates and dates contact Hidden Trails at 1-888-9-TRAILS
or see the website at:
http://hiddentrails.com/tour/america_central_mexico_colores_mexico.aspx

Vacation in the “Wild” West - Arizona

admin — Thu, 08 Mar 2007 00:42:00 GMT

Dragoon Mountains GRapevine Canyon Ranch Getaway

How many people wish to escape routine, stress and obligations? The seaside is where most people will escape to. But, once arrived there, they share the beaches, cell phone chats, family dramas, and after the first sunburn they spend the rest of their stay frustrated in a hotel room. An alternative option to recover, physically and mentally, would be a stay at a dude ranch, where time seems to come to a standstill, where silence is interrupted only by the sound of animals, but where a day has to offer a lot.

One of the most beautiful ranches in the USA is in the Dragoon Mountains, Arizona. Coming to this county it is as if time had stopped. Before one takes the dirty roads towards the secluded ranch one passes a small place with a few houses, a bar and a grocery store. There are no street lights and arriving at night can be an adventure. The place radiates a comforting tranquility. At the ranch, the main guest house offers a living room with a large fire place where guests can read, chat or sometimes listen to live country music. Meals are served out of tinplate dishes in the annexed dining room, consisting of three wooden tables with benches, where the day’s news is exchanged among guests, the rancher’s family, wranglers and cowboys.

The guest cabins are scattered around the main compound of the ranch at an appropriate distance from each other. Those who prefer to retreat to the cabin may borrow books from the library. Cabins are not equipped with any communication such as TV, radio, phone or internet. The only entertaining sounds come from nature. At night there are coyotes that bark and howl and underneath the cabin’s wooden floor or in the roof one hears the rustling of mice and chipmunks that enjoy the warmth that has been stored during the day. In the morning, the horses are neighing for their hay and birds are welcoming the day with loud chirping. At noon, when sitting in the rocking chair at the cabin’s porch, the guest is surrounded by absolute silence, sometimes interrupted by the humming of the insects.

Those who like some excitement may choose a morning or afternoon ride on western trained horses. There are also all day rides to Chiricahua National Monument with spectacular rock formations and a challenging trail climbing to approx. 2500 meters. Another trail goes to the Stronghold Divide, a very scenic ride through Stronghold Canyon, the hideout of Cochise and his Apache braves. The spirit of the Native Americans is still alive. An interesting place to visit is the Middlemarch Canyon, and old mining ghost town, site of the original Cobra Loma copper mine. And when tired of riding, the guest can, easily, visit by car the famous old town of Tombstone with its legendary Wyatt Earp or pay a visit to Mexico.

The Ranch in the Dragoon Mountains compared to other dude ranches keeps its promise to benefit of a satisfactory vacation. Whatever one decides to do during the day, there is no boredom, no disappointment. Most of the people who have been there once, will return to this exceptional place.

Eva H. from Switzerland

Call Hidden Trails at 1-888-9-TRAILS
or see the website at: http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=az_grapevine_canyon&tourtype=GuestRanch

Tetons Wagon Train Wyoming

admin — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 23:55:00 GMT

In the heart of cowboy country sits the Wild West town of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Generation after generation, folks from around the world have visited the town of Jackson and the National Parks that surround it. The sky scraping Tetons and the reliable Old Faithful has lured the young and old for over 100 years. One of the oldest and unique vacations in this part of the world is the Teton's Wagon Trains. During the months of June, July and August, we offer 4 – 6 day treks in the Bridger Teton National Forest. Everyone from the youngest to the oldest can enjoy a first class camping experience. Filled with horseback riding, riding in a covered wagon, mountain meadows, campfire entertainment, home cooked meals and much, much more.

Your adventure begins in Jackson Hole where you are picked up and taken by van to the wagon train. You’ll notice right off that the crew is upbeat and fun and that the horses are healthy and in shape. A big “Wagons Ho” gets the wheels rolling as everybody heads out in a covered wagon or atop a trusty saddle horse. On a horse or in the wagon you will find there is no shortage of scenery. Every guest has the opportunity to ride a saddle horse during the day and some opt to stick with the wagons or hike along the unused road and take in clean, mountain air. The wagon canvas sides are rolled up so that you can view the ever changing terrain, the wheels of the wagons are rubber and the seats are padded for your comfort. The towering Tetons make a breathtaking backdrop as you make your way up through the mountain canyons.

Horseback riders and wagons meet at a scenic spot for a relaxing lunch. After lunch the trail continues its way through the unused logging roads or along a timber lined ridge to its destination. After the wagons are circled and the horses are turned out to graze the sound of the dinner bell and the aroma of an unbelievable home cooked meal draws you to the chuck wagon. The cook can whip up quite a feast from a tender roast to a cherry cheese cake and all the trimmings in between.

Long forgotten songs like “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain:” and “Home on the Range” will draw you to the campfire. The colorful crew swaps stories with the guests as they sip on a cup of cowboy coffee or hot chocolate and the brightness of the stars bring the day to a close. Walking to your tent or wagon the anticipation of what you will see tomorrow or what kind of trail the wagon master has picked out goes through your mind.

Crisp morning air and the sound of horse bells act as your alarm clock. Watches really aren’t of much use in the mountains and cell phones don’t get very good service and you think to yourself “it is so quiet and relaxing.” Eggs, bacon, fruit and pancakes cooked over the open fire are a welcoming site as the next days activities unfold. It is moving day and the whole camp has to be packed up and moved to the next camp site. Horses are saddled or harnessed and ready to go. Even the Teton Rose (the wagon outhouse) has been wrapped up. The camp quickly disappears as you turn around on your horse to take one last look where you hung your hat the night before.

Looking forward you feel refreshed and excited in anticipation of what the next camp will look like. Lunch is at another panoramic view fit for any Kodak commercial.

This afternoon you may have decided to take the wagon. The driver lets you drive the big, gentle team as they make their way up through the creek drainage and onto the plateau. Rolling in to camp you think to yourself “I should have booked a longer trip.”

Folks from all over the world have come to the great state of Wyoming to go on a trek with Wagons West. It has literally changed some of their lives and those of their families. No televisions, no game boys, phones or sirens….just the sound of horses, the wind blowing through the pines and the laughter of people having a good time. Here are a few testimonials from folks that have enjoyed a trip with Wagons West.

Lindsay, Alison, Patrick, Sharon and Jim from Massachusetts, write “We rode horses most of the time up through the hills with breathtaking views of the Tetons and absolutely fabulous fields of wildflowers which Sharon claimed was like riding through a Monet painting. The horses were let loose in the evening and wandered around with large cowbells. It was pure magic to wake up in a Conestoga wagon listening to the tinkling bells as they all came back to the camp for breakfast.”

Honeymooners, Anne and Dave from Florida, write “Even the other families on the trip made it special. We all ended up together at the Rodeo on Saturday night. We felt like we were all a family and it started with all of you. Thank you. We will be back!”

Sandi from Missouri writes: “For years I had dreamed of going on a covered wagon trip out of Jackson, Wyoming. The folks at Wagons West helped make that dream a reality. The wagon master and wranglers of Wagons West were very skilled, great with the guests and most helpful to me when I, a city slicker in every sense of the word, wanted to try horse back riding for the first time. Traveling via the covered wagon is a great way to experience the magnificence of the Grand Tetons and the wilderness of Wyoming. I returned from this trip with my spirit rekindled and relaxed. The excitement is still in my soul and I am planning a return trip – this time with friends from home – and to introduce them to my new friends, the staff of Wagons West.”

Mike, Katlyn, Angie and Stephanie from Ohio write: “….We really enjoyed ourselves and this was one of the best vacations any of us had ever been on. Thanks again for providing us with such a good time. Tell Chad if he ever decides to sell Duke, the horse I was riding, to let me know.”

We invite you to take this “trip of a lifetime”. You will never tire of looking at the magnificent Tetons and you never know what experience is about to take place around the next corner.

The wagons and horses are ready so come and see us in Wyoming.

Call 1-888-9-TRAILS for additional information or check out the website at: http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=wy_teton_wagons_trek&tourtype=WagonTrain

Riding high in New Zealand - South Island

admin — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 23:41:00 GMT

Horse & Hound's intrepid news editor find out what it's like to rides deep into the high country of New Zealand’s South Island

If I close my eyes now, I'm back on a striking grey horse, the sun beating down, clip-clopping along a dirt road — on one side rise snow-tipped mountains, on the other a roaring river twists far below. The wind is strong, and as we round a corner I grasp my hat and lean in against the horse's mane as he steps out, heedless of the elements.

It was October (spring) when I joined a five-day expedition in North Canterbury on the South Island, riding from sheep station to sheep station. The outfitter has a made a name for itself for its ventures into fabulous scenery, and offers trips ranging from one night to a nine-day packhorse expedition high among New Zealand's backcountry. Spectacular vistas, plus a chance to integrate with the locals, come top of my holiday list, and the station-to-station ride delivered in bucketloads.

Guests billet overnight with farmers and cross their land during the day — and though the temperatures dipped with the altitude our welcome everywhere remained warm. And I learnt more about New Zealand in four days talking to guides and farmers than I would have done in four weeks pottering around on my own.

For the first night, we stayed — myself, and two Swedes, Janne and Madeleine — with Pat Shepherd in the base town of Harwarden. Greeting us with tea, chocolate muffins and éclairs, and expecting us to do justice to a three-course supper 2hr hours later, Pat set the theme of the trip. Guests are fed and watered like troopers each night, with plentiful picnics packed for the following day's ride — you want for nothing bar 10hr of sleep.

New Zealand's seasons are of course opposite to ours, but like the UK, its weather can be unpredictable. In late spring and early summer, when I went, you can literally experience four seasons in one day.

Rob Stanley and Mandy Platt set up the trips, which was last November bought by Liam and Heather Naden. The couple have since upgraded and expanded the facilities at base camp to include a dressage arena. They now have 45 horses, from the local St James, a large, sturdy breed, to New Zealand Thoroughbreds, offering something to everyone except "extreme novices".

The horse you're paired with can make or break a riding holiday, and having explained that I was happy to ride anything and "liked a bit of spark", I was given Mandy's hunter, Ted.

I instantly and shamelessly fell in love with this 16.1hh eight-year-old grey gelding, who used to hunt with the local Brackenfield hunt. There are no foxes in New Zealand, but the country's 30-odd packs hunt hare — and fearlessly jump wire.

Sprightly and sharp, but hugely obliging, Ted soon revealed a great sense of humour (he peppered day one with bucks and tried to eat my picnic each and every day) as we set out on the ride, winding our way toward Jack and Nancy Inch's home, through fields filled with sheep, along a river and past native New Zealand cabbage trees oddly clattering with tins of possum poison.

Full-length Drizabone coats are provided, so despite the rain setting in, I remained snug as I peered out, trying to distingiush the shapes of New Zealand's trademark mountains that were shrouded with mist. Ever since The Lord of the Rings, I've been dying to see this country and prayed the mist wouldn't thwart me.

Horses here come first — guests are often asked to dismount and walk — and luggage, horse feed and rugs are transported ahead of the riders for each night. Before turning in ourselves, the horses were brushed and checked over, rugged up and turned out.

On the first night, they were turned out by the Inch's woolshed, where we watched Jack and Nancy's son Graham press fleeces — squeezing 60 at a time into big bags for export. I could have talked to farmer Jack for days, but, more used to life at a London desk, the pure, clear air wiped me out — and I was spark out by 8:30pm.

The station ride follows Lake Sumner Road, an old gold-mining dirt trail, lashed by wind but coloured by vivid yellow gorse and the turquoise waters of the glacial Hurunui below.

New Zealand has water everywhere — lakes, rivers and streams — and scores of Paradise ducks continually circle the skies as you ride along. Guides Kim and Jan ask riders to allow their horses to drink freely, and ours often stopped for refreshment as the temperatures rose. The horses were more settled after the previous day's ride, and day two was sprinkled with canters on verges — and less bucks from Ted.

Lake Taylor Station is the destination of this ride — a 1½hr drive to the nearest town. Owners Rosemary and Dave Gunn understood just what riders needed after long days in the saddle — we found hot water bottles tucked into our beds.

Being so remote, this family is almost entirely self-sufficient. Everything from the honey to the bacon is home-produced, and the couple's youngest son, Drew, is in the last year of home schooling. He's 12, and off to boarding school next year: "We do have internet connection but it has to go through two telephone exchanges before the town, so it's a bit slow."

Lamb and wool are New Zealand's lifeblood. At the last census in 1999, it had 45m sheep and in the high country, Merinos are kept to produce the finest wool, since meat can't be fattened on the barren grazing.

The Gunn's flock is characteristically large — they run 6,500 Merinos over 18,000 acres, with 350 cattle, about 10 dogs, a few pigs, chickens and a couple of ponies.

Despite dagging 350 of her sheep that day (back-breaking work, trimming dirty fleece around their rear), Rosemary had cakes and supper waiting for us on our return from a 6hr ride to their summer house.

As I bade farewell to Madeleine and Janne, guides Kim and Jan and the lovely Ted, I felt like new. Months later, the feeling of contentment I had after five days in the saddle in wide open spaces among the most amazing scenery on earth, is still strong in the memory. It does that to people, New Zealand.

A real equine adventure

Drizabones, hats and saddlebags are provided for riders
Except in high summer, pack for all weathers. One day you'll need thermals and waterproofs, the next T-shirts and sunscreen
Snaffle bits and Australian stock saddles are used — a Western/English saddle hybrid
All standards of riders are catered for, apart from extreme novices. There are 45 horses to suit all types
Pack walking/riding boots and half-chaps — but wash them first. New Zealand's import restrictions are very strict and require all outdoor equipment to be free of mud, hair and grass seeds
Take collapsible water bottles and plastic bags. Riders each carry a grooming brush in their saddlebags and a bag avoids hair covering your spare layers

Abigail Butcher
August 1, 2006

For more info with rates and dates, see:
http://www.hiddentrails.com/country/NewZealand.aspx

Gila Working Ranch Makes Cowboyin' Women's Work - New Mexico

admin — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 23:14:00 GMT

Aspiring Cowgirls with a taste for adventure will find what they are looking for at the Gila Working Ranch in NEw Mexico, a 30,000 acre working cattle ranch on 30,000 private acres in some of the most beautiful country in the West.

Cowgirl Camp is an all-inclusive seven day adventure retreat for cowgirls of every experience level. In a matter of days, you'll be ridin, ropin, brandin, team penning, barrel racing and driving them doggies up into the hills, all with a group of like-minded women. This ranch is not a foo-foo spa ranch. The guest capacity is small, with an average of 10-12. You can expect plenty of "hands on" experience with knowledgeable and patient wranglers who guide cowgirls-to-be every step of the way. After a week of Cowgirl Camp, Sherry Berter, a Boston restaurant owner, bought the horse she had ridden and is now pursuing her lifelong fantasy of competing in rodeos.

Cowgirl Camp is one of several unique Western experiences offered at the ranch. With perfect New Mexico weather, the ranch is open 365 days a year. There are also cattle roundups, Gila Wilderness Nature Rides, Wild Bunch rides, clinics in horsemanship, Cowboy Mounted Shooting and other in-the-saddle activities.

More information is on the Hidden Trails website at: http://hiddentrails.com/pub/tour.aspx?id=usa_rc_nm_cowgirl_clinic&tourtype=RidingClinic

Saddle Up in the Cariboo, British Columbia

admin — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 21:34:00 GMT

Deep in BC’s Cariboo Country, the Cariboo deluxe Wilderness Ranch offers aspiring cowboys and cowgirls the ultimate western vacation. Featuring one of the most unique riding programs in North America, guests at this exclusive hideaway are assigned their own horse and given freedom to ride the range just like genuine ranch-hands. And the high staff-to-guest ratio ensures that guests indulge their inner-buckaroo while luxuriating in premium service, amenities, and fine dining.

With wide-open spaces and plenty of trails to roam, the spectacular setting at the ranch is ideal for exploring by horseback. From first-time through advanced riders, every guest will delight in a tailor-made riding experience. Guests are assigned their own horse for the duration of their stay, taught western horsemanship skills, and are given the freedom to ride when and where they want. With no “nose to tail” riding, guests of all levels are ensured that the pioneering-spirit is always present. For experienced riders, free rein is given to individual exploration after demonstrating their abilities to ranch staff. Less experienced riders can explore the trails as well, accompanied by a personal riding guide to ensure safety. Guests have the opportunity to help groom and saddle their own horses as well, which is encouraged to help build a trusting relationship between horse and rider.

For guests looking for a break from the saddle, there are plenty of other activities on the menu. There’s canoeing or fishing, hiking, mountain biking, swimming, and guided interpretive nature walks onsite, while fly fishing, white-water rafting and trips to local lakes can be arranged as guided day trips. The ranch boasts a children’s program during summer months, allowing families to experience the splendour of the Ranch together.

When it’s time to retreat from the adventures outdoors, guests indulge in the amenities of the 7,000 square foot log ranch house. This boutique lodge is akin to the country estates of the “Old West” – a casually elegant home away from home where guests feel pampered and comfortable. Following a day of western adventure, the Great Room welcomes guests to share stories from the day while enjoying appetizers and drinks around the 30’ high river rock fireplace, or on the sunny deck when the weather is warm. When simple relaxation is in order, guests can read by the log fire, enjoy a massage, or lie outdoors in the hammock.

Gourmet meals are served in the 20-seat dining room, featuring organic produce picked fresh from the garden, mouth-watering beef and pork, and free range eggs. The Ranch’s six guests rooms, each with ensuite bathroom, are furnished with country antiques, Egyptian linens, eiderdown duvets, and voluminous bath sheets. Some rooms have deep soaking tubs, private balconies, and lake views.

From May to October, getaways at the Ranch include all activities, luxury accommodation, three meals a day, morning wake-up tray, and evening hors d’ouevres. A three-night minimum stay is required, and family rates are available. In January and February, an all-inclusive winter program features dog sledding and a palate of winter activities.

If you’re ready to experience true Western hospitality, call HIdden Trails toll free at 1-888-9-TRAILS or email info@hiddentrails.com to book your Ranch holiday.

For more details check out the website at: http://hiddentrails.com/tour/bc_cariboo_getaway.aspx