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Of Kids and Connemaras There were four children in our group of eight, including my 11-year-old son and 10-year-old daughter. I’d been toying with the idea that there must be a fair number of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles out there who would like to bring along their favorite young equestrian on a family ride holiday with an itinerary appropriate for children. I thought this Donegal ride would work as a family destination, and my children came along as enthusiastic “test riders.” Ireland is reputed to be a family-friendly country, but I was not prepared for the sense of goodwill that prevailed wherever we went. Everyone, from bus drivers in Dublin to the fishing boat skipper, went out of their way to be helpful, joke with the kids, and wish us safe travels. I haven’t been to Ireland before, so I can’t say whether the Irish are always friendly or whether having a few children along brings out the best of their renowned good humor. Whatever the case, Ireland is an ideal country to explore with kids. We flew into Dublin, not because I was the least bit worried about Belfast (which is actually closer to Dunfanaghy) but because I wanted to see the Book of Kells at Trinity College. Okay, and the Guinness brewery too. The city bus tour of Dublin is terrific for kids and adults. It stops at all the major attractions, you can get off and on at will, the top deck is open-air, and it’s cheap. After a few days in Dublin, where we had a chance to adjust to the new time, we caught a bus north to Dunfanaghy. The bus was comfortable, easy to catch, and as fast as driving your own car. (After experiencing Ireland’s narrow roads, I was convinced it is best to leave the driving to a professional.) The Donegal from the Saddle ride is based in Dunfanaghy, a little village on the far north coast and at the edge of the Gaeltacht region. We were greeted upon arrival, showed to our rooms, and then led through the hotel’s verdant back gardens to the stable. The stable is managed by an Irish couple, Helen and John McDaid, who are both highly qualified equestrians. Helen grew up at the Irish National Stud where her father was employed. John is a master farrier, and watching him form a plate-sized shoe for one of their draft horses is worth the entire trip. The stable is home to a variety of horses, from Shetland ponies to Irish hunters, but the kids and I lost our hearts to the smart little Connemaras. There is nothing quite like a “wee gallop” on a trustworthy horse, along a deserted, curving stretch of beach. The hotel which was home for a week overlooks the bay, with a golf course and magnificent beach just a short walk away. The children immediately headed off to explore the town and the beach. Within 24 hours they made friends with some of the local kids; the son of our dinner waitress, the girls helping out at the stable, the toy store owner’s children. In early July the daylight hours are long, and when we returned from the day’s ride there was still plenty of time to play on the beach, go fishing or organize water gun battles along the town’s stone walls. One evening the boys went deep-sea fishing with a local fisherman. We all cheered when they burst into the hotel’s immaculate dining room with bags full of mackerel and pollack (which the chef cooked for their dinner), and immense smiles. It may have been the highlight of their trip. We were a group of varied riding skills, as one would expect on a family ride when mixing children and adults. The minimum requirement is the ability to do a controlled canter, which everyone managed well. The adults rode big Irish hunters. The children rode Connemaras. I wanted to try them all, and swapped back and forth between a bay thoroughbred cross, a chestnut hunter, and a dappled Connemara. Helen is an expert at matching horses and riders, and we all grew very fond of our mounts. Two days we rode inland toward the dominant landscape feature, Muckish Mountain. There is some riding on paved roads, but the traffic is sparse. The “famine tracks” and obsolete railway routes made for fabulous trots and canters through the countryside. One magical afternoon we were riding around bogs where rows of peat bricks were laid out to dry, Muckish Mountain was obscured by scarves of mist, and around a corner appeared a farmer with his wool cap, border collies and flock of highland sheep. The sheep scattered around the horses, the farmer waved to us, called orders to the dogs (maybe in Gaelic, or maybe indecipherable border collie commands) and we rode on. The kids caught my eye, “Mom, it’s just like the books.” Beach riding was a favorite activity for the entire family. The other days’ routes were closer to the coast, and featured memorable canters on the beaches. Crescent-shaped Tramore Beach is over a mile long, lies within a conservation area, and is accessible only by foot or horseback. It was the destination on our final day, and part of the route another day. There is nothing quite like a “wee gallop” on a trustworthy horse, along a deserted, curving stretch of beach. Mike, our Scottish guide, was up in front leading the bold riders. Helen moderated the pace with the more cautious riders behind her. The horses splashed in the surf, the wind whistled in our ears, and the kids laughed out loud. We had a day off mid-week to visit the famine museum in town, organize a taxi to see the small castle and walking trails of Glenveagh National Park, and write postcards. On Thursday night we drove to a pub in a nearby village to hear authentic Celtic musicians. That was another scene just like the books; old men lined up at the bar with pints of Guinness, a few children leaning against their parents, soft smoky light, and the musicians gathered around a table in the center of the room with an array of flutes, fiddles, banjos and guitars. No fixed repertoire, no announcements or explanations, just Celtic tunes played by local musicians. Traveling overseas with children was a whole new experience for me. It was challenging in many ways, some anticipated and some not. But the rewards far outweighed the challenges, and the memories of our family ride in Donegal will last a lifetime.

Ride Review by Ellen Vanuga

So Green were the Valleys

Please note we do not currently have a ride in Wales, but have other options in Northern Europe and are working on expanding our repertoire in the area!

After riding numerous times over the years in Ireland, I had the opportunity to ride in Wales, in that oldest Celtic part of Great Britain. In September of 2012, my dream finally came true and I found myself on my way to the land of the legendary King Arthur.

Following a quick detour to the Devon area in southern England to check out a new ride, I boarded a train and headed northwest to my destination of Abergavenny, the gateway to Wales. On the last leg of the journey, after changing trains several times, I noticed a Japanese gentleman sitting several rows in front of me and knew immediately that he must be one of my clients for the ride. My first instinct was correct, and I shared a very memorable week with Mr. Obayashi from Japan and Kayla Steiner of Ohio.

We were met at the train station and taken to our accommodations for the first night, a lovely old mill house. Our rooms were quaint but well appointed with private bathrooms. After a welcome with hot tea and sweets, we retired to our rooms to freshen up before later heading out to dinner at a local pub where the traditional fare was plentiful and fresh.

Sheep, and sometimes even half-wild Welsh ponies, greeted us in many fields.

The following morning we were driven to the stables to meet our horses for the week. Although the guide had chosen a thoroughbred mare named Harriet for me, a smaller cob cross named Jack nickered at me as we walked through the yard, choosing me for this first trail ride of the week. Jack gave it his best, but he had a bit of a choppy trot and was not as balanced as I prefer in the canter and gallop. Jack and I bid each other adieu after the first day and I took up the next suggestion of a cob cross named Bill, nicknamed ”Billy Who Tries” for his comfortable but somewhat slower gaits and steady personality. Billy worked out great for me since I was the official photographer for the ride and he was most patient while I took pictures from the saddle. In addition, Billy helped me regain my confidence while galloping after a recent incident with one of my own horses at home had left me a bit insecure in the fast gaits.

Llangorse Lake was a beautiful sight from the ridge line as well as the shoreline.

The next four days of the ride we didn’t return to the stables, but instead headed out in a wide loop of the Welsh countryside. Our first big climb took us high up a mountain with a splendid view of Llangorse lake and the village of Llangors. The unusually wet summer left the Welsh countryside shimmering in a myriad of green tones. Hedges separated pastures where flocks of sheep grazed contentedly. This part of Wales reminded me of a “larger Ireland”, the air similarly soft and humid. What a pleasant surprise this was for me after the especially arid summer we had been experiencing in Wyoming!

We were transported securely up mountains, through forests and over valleys by our Welsh mounts.

Our ride continued through the lush Welsh countryside, down lovely country lanes and around Sugarloaf Mountain. We covered about 27 miles on Tuesday thanks to wonderful opportunities for longer trots, canters and gallops. We could all feel the long hours spent in the saddle, but before relaxing ourselves that late afternoon we took care of our mounts. We removed their tack, hosed them off and fed them before turning them out to pasture for the night. Our small group of riders was very happy with our assigned horses for the week and cared for them well. Mr. Obayashi’s mount was a larger cob named Daisy who, in return, took great care of him on the trails.

We were driven to our accommodations to wash up before dinner at the oldest, and reputedly haunted, public house in Wales, Skirrid Mountain Inn where we relived our ride experiences of the day over hearty pub fare washed down with a pint or two of ale.

While Wales had been experiencing one of its wettest summers on record that year, we were extremely lucky with the weather during our ride. I will take part of the credit for that because I wore my “lucky” ski shell pants over my riding breeches every day. Even when the clouds threatened ominously, they sent no rain our way. The natural phenomena of the ski shells works in a similar manner to having an umbrella close by so that it will never be needed. I was in constant danger of overheating due to the water- and wind-proof material, but never removed the shells for fear that the heavens would open and pour on us if I did so. My strategy worked for the rains retreated and there was sun.

We ate our evening meals in colorful, historic, and sometimes “haunted” Welsh pubs.

The rest of our Welsh mountain ride included picnic lunches, tours of old church yards, rides through dark and fragrant forests and savory dinners at local pubs in the evenings. Despite derogatory rumors going around about the cuisine in Great Britain, I cannot confirm that for Wales. Our meals in the quaint pubs were very tasty and complemented by the excellent ales, stouts and lagers. There were even delightful desserts for those of us with a sweet tooth.

A special treat during our ride was being greeted by half-wild Welsh ponies as we rode over fern-covered hillsides on top of one of the mountain ridges we explored.

All too soon the last day of our ride in Wales arrived and we circled back on the part of the trail we had taken at the beginning of our adventure. One last long canter and gallop, when “Billy tried” and gave it his all, and we were back on the ridge overlooking Llangorse Lake for the last time. Arriving at the stables, the horses were hosed off and turned out for a well deserved several days rest.

The farewell dinner was at a lovely upscale restaurant where we were once again treated to delicious local specialties. Our little group, which had grown quite cohesive during the week, recounted the most memorable experiences and shared a lot of laughter. I look forward to riding again with Mr. Obayashi and Kayla Steiner in any part of the world but also plan on returning to Wales where the grass is definitely greener and the undulating hillsides somehow larger, sparkling and alive in the sunlight.

We took one last lingering view over the idyllic Welsh countryside before completing our memorable ride.

Ride Review by Biggi Hayes

An Exploratory Riding Vacation in Spain

One of the greatest perks of being a ride consultant at Equitours is being able to travel, actually experience our rides first hand, meet and develop friendships with our outfitters, and get to put faces to the names of the wonderful customers who come back year after year to us for their equine adventure vacations. So I was naturally excited about meeting up with my clients Beth and Kathryn at the airport to embark on an exploratory new ride in Spain with Maria Elena, a wonderfully vivacious and gregarious outfitter Equitours has been working with for many, many years. She had proposed a sample itinerary which was to offer the best of riding in both the Gredos Mountains and the Segovia foothills. (Note: the new Equitours ride resulting from this exploratory trip is called “Trails of Old Castile” and is now available for booking.) Maria Elena promised that especially the Gredos area in early to mid June would be lovely and alive with wildflowers, and I was very excited to finally be able to actually meet and ride with her.

When I go on riding adventures I always plan an extra day before the ride begins, not only to be sure to get there on time, as one never knows with airlines these days, but also to have a chance to get over any jet lag and explore a local city before heading off to ride. For this trip, the outfitter had suggested Avila, a medieval town fairly equidistant between Madrid, Gredos and Segovia and therefore an ideal starting point.

The easiest way to get to Avila from Madrid is to catch a train from the San Martin train station which is easily reached by taxi from the Barajas airport. Taking the short 1.5 hour train ride through the Spanish countryside is a fun way to get a first impression of the area. I was surprised by the arid vastness of the area around Madrid which became increasingly rural as the train rumbled along. Upon arrival in Avila, an UNESCO town with a walled fortress at its center, we took a taxi to the Hotel Las Cancelas in the heart of the city and checked into our rooms. I was surprised by how little English was spoken at the hotel and vowed yet again to finally tackle the Spanish course that has been sitting untouched on my desk at home for some time now. That will be a winter project for sure. After freshening up a bit, Beth, Kathryn and I set out to discover this medieval enclave a bit on our own before calling it a night following a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant.

We arrived in Spain a couple of days before our ride in order to do some sightseeing around historic Avila. Pictured is part of the medieval city wall from 1090.

The following morning we continued our exploration of Avila, including walking along and on top of the walled perimeter of the town, until it was time for our pickup and one hour transfer to the Gredos area. I eagerly awaited meeting Maria Elena and, of course, the horses which we would be riding for the next 3 days while exploring the Gredos mountains.

As we neared Gredos, the countryside became much more verdant and we started noticing small villages that dotted the hillsides. Soon we arrived in the village of Navarrendona and were taken to our accommodations for the next three nights at the Parador de Gredos, a charismatic old hunting lodge with plenty of atmosphere. There we met up with Maria Elena who showed us to our rooms. We had a couple of hours to settle in and freshen up before we met for drinks. There was a celebratory atmosphere that evening in the hotel. The local gorse festival was coming to an end and photos taken by the town citizens of arrangements featuring that bright yellow flower were on display. We found ourselves caught up in the excitement. Afterwards we set down to a scrumptious meal in the hotel restaurant which gave us a good impression of the culinary experience we would have the entire week ahead. Four course meals at the end of the day, fresh local products to tantalize our palates – a true gourmet experience!

After a good night’s sleep, interspersed softy by the sounds of cows and cow bells from the surrounding forest, we were all very excited to finally get on the horses the next morning following the sumptuous breakfast buffet served at the hotel. Our little group was picked up at 9.45 AM and taken to the stables located outside the village where the horses were waiting for us, all saddled up and ready to go. This would be the norm for the week and what a treat that was as we were all used to doing such horse chores ourselves back home in the states. We soon discovered that the extremely comfortable trail saddles with a deeper seat and thick knee rolls made riding the horses in Gredos very comfortable.

The first horse Maria Elena chose for me was a spunky and quite forward Arab Andalusian cross that reminded me a bit of one of my horses at home. Needing to take photos while on the ride, however, I requested a somewhat quieter mount for the next couple of days and was obliged. I think most riders always find the first group canter and gallop somewhat challenging on a new horse but before long everyone settled down and we were off at a good pace. We enjoyed numerous nice trots and canters as well as a few gallops through the mountainous countryside blanketed with wildflowers galore, including the gorse bushes with their yellow blossoms. After about 1.5 hrs of riding, we arrived at our first aperitivo spot in the countryside and were informed that this was just a refreshment stop and not yet the full fledged lunch. A picnic table was beautifully set with various drinks, including local wines and beer, as well as snacks such as prosciutto, salami, olives and fruits of the season. This just blew me away and we knew we were definitely in for a culinary treat during the week ahead.

The ride continued through pine forests and along creeks in small valleys before we stopped mid-afternoon for lunch at a farmhouse. There we enjoyed more local fare followed by a short siesta. We arrived back at the stables around 6 PM that evening which made for a short day but was a wonderful introduction to the activities awaiting us. After the horses were unsaddled and washed off it was a treat to see them cantering down the breezeway of the stable as they were turned out into a nearby field for the night. I couldn’t wait to see what the next day of riding in Spain would bring.

As requested, the next morning I was paired with a lovely Andalusian named Cisco who I lovingly called “Punky” because his mane stuck straight up. He was a bit more up my alley, a gentleman through and through, who would wait patiently while I took pictures of the countryside and the other riders, sometimes over and over until I had the shot I wanted. The Gredos Mountains surprised me with their vibrant beauty and wildflowers galore! The first three days flew by much too quickly.

The 10 course catered luncheon on top of a bench high up in the mountains was unforgettable.

On the last day Maria Elena outdid herself with a 10 course catered luncheon on top of a bench high up in the mountains on a beautiful lake surrounded by snow covered peaks. The gallops on the way back made our hearts sing and everyone was sad to say good-bye to the horses we had come to trust over the past several days as they safely carried us down sandy paths, across valleys and through forests.

Late in the afternoon on the third day we were picked up at the stable area by Enrique. He and his horses would guide us around the foothills of the Segovia area for the next few days. Since Enrique spoke only a few words of English, Maria Elena joined us in Segovia. We were glad to have her company as we had all grown very fond of her outgoing nature. After having been in the riding business for so many years, the stories she told were wonderfully entertaining and, despite our 10 year age difference, we had so many parallels in our lives that I felt as though I had found a long lost friend.

Enrique owns a show jumping stable in Segovia so his horses were much leaner, accomplished jumpers and quite forward to ride. The first few days in the Gredos area had been cool to mild while the first day in Segovia, where we were to cover about 40 km, turned out to be an extremely hot day. Paired with a new horses that we had to get used to including much longer canters and gallops along the foothills and cañadas of the area made for a very long and somewhat exhausting day.

The much appreciated aperitivo stop was in a shaded area on the outskirts of a village. Lunch would be served much later so we rode through the heat of the day. Upon arrival at the late lunch stop some of us were feeling the effects of the unexpected heat wave. I had to dunk my head several times in a small creek before I was sufficiently cooled off to have lunch and continue riding. Luckily we only had another 7 km to go before coming into the village of Pedraza. We went on strike and requested to walk the rest of the way into the village as we had simple trotted, cantered and galloped enough for one day! Enrique and Maria Elena obliged us.

What a beautiful sight the little village was as it came into view at the end of the day, sitting on top of a hillside with old cobblestone roads and charming little hotels. After a quick and very refreshing shower we all decided to meet at the village square for a refreshing gin and tonic before dinner. The evening was wonderfully mild so we sat and enjoyed our drinks well beyond the appointed dinner time. Being the only ones in the hotel for dinner that night it didn’t matter. By now our small group was becoming quite cohesive, swapping life stories over drinks and then dinner. During the days in Gredos there had been a journalist from Great Britain on the ride as well as a Swedish photographer and his daughter who were putting together an article for Conde Nast Traveler. They, however, had left the ride after the first ride stage in Gredos.

The next morning we were all still quite exhausted from the previous long day and unanimously decided to make it a shorter day of riding, which was possible since the next village was not too far away. In this area of Segovia the ride passed through shorter pine shrubs and lavender fields in bloom, and the countryside had a lovely purple hue sprinkled with wildflowers of yellow and red throughout. It was the perfect week to experience this display of color as, due to the heat, it would only last briefly.

The carpet of lavender was quite a view from the saddle!

Too soon our riding week in Spain was coming to an end. The final morning brought more lovely long canters and gallops along the cañada treks of the area with the highlight being cantering through a lovely huge field of wildflowers and lavender before reaching Enrique’s stable outside of the city of Segovia in the mid-afternoon. Here we could watch the show jumpers at work during lessons and riders exercising their horses.

While all that was taking place we enjoyed lunch in a shaded area by a swimming pool, of which we all took advantage. Nothing reminds me more of my childhood summers than diving into a pool and having a picnic lunch with fresh water melon served as dessert. That night we stayed at the Parador of Segovia, overlooking the city and its cathedral, and revisited our adventures of the week over our last dinner as a group. We were all sad that our riding vacation in Spain had come to an end so quickly but made plans to meet up and ride with Maria Elena and Enrique again someday!

Ride Review written by Biggi Hayes

Mexico’s Majestic Peaks

The hacienda was warm and inviting…the margaritas after a day’s ride, superb!

After doing more than 100 horseback rides in foreign lands over the last 40 years, I never cease to be surprised and delighted by the tremendous diversity of opportunity available around the world with horses. This ride in Mexico was a great treat for me. It highlighted the best of Mexico and belied the tawdry image many Americans have of the country. Our hosts, Pepe and Lucia, are truly gracious in the old world sense and made us feel like friends and honored guests in their beautiful home.

They speak flawless English and are extremely well informed on a broad range of subjects. They can tell you almost anything you would like to know about the history, culture, flora and fauna of the area. Both are expert horsemen.

Lunches carried by our indefatigable pack mule, Don Sabino, were invariably a great feast.

The route has been meticulously planned to make a complete circle through the mountains and valleys which surround the jewel-like lake on whose shores stands the picturesque colonial town of Valle de Bravo. The hacienda sits at about 6,000 ft. while the forested mountains around go up well over 12,000 ft. Each day we would leave the horses at a different spot and transfer back to the comfort of the hacienda for a delicious margarita and a mouthwatering meal.

Mexican Charro tack is similar to Western with a wider pommel, a very large saddle horn and typically has a decorative machete hanging from the left side.

Most days we spent about six hours in the saddle and covered a wide variety of landscape. We traversed pine, oak and fir forests as well as patches of farmland with absolutely spectacular and ever-changing views. I had been prepared for excellent horses, but our mounts surpassed my expectations. They were about 16 hands, well trained and with amazing stamina.

A broad selection of excellent saddles is available. Each day the horses climbed and descended several thousand feet, but they were still keen to make the fast canters we had quite frequently. They were sure footed in the most difficult places and we would have been glad to add any of them to our herd in Wyoming.

We were unprepared when we saw the monarchs clinging together in their millions.

Every day had its special appeal, but the visit to the monarch butterflies was outstanding. Our horses made the climb to one of the remote and rarely visited sanctuaries at about 12,000 ft. in impressive time and we walked on foot for the last few hundred yards. The air had been filled with butterflies almost as thick as snowflakes, but we were unprepared when we saw them clinging together in their millions on the majestic fir trees which soared 150 ft. or more above us.

Mesmerized by monarchs

It was a sacred and spiritually moving place and we were full of wonder at the thought of the amazing migration these creatures make each year all the way to Canada.

To satisfy appetites whetted by the vigorous morning rides, we were spoiled with a wonderfully fresh variety of local produce every day at lunchtime.

Lunches carried by our indefatigable pack mule, Don Sabino, were invariably a great feast. There was an assortment of drinks on ice, and a fantastic spread of vegetables, fruit, cheese, meat, smoked trout, etc. Often our guides cooked a delicious hot meal over a wood fire. Picnic spots were always in the most breathtakingly spectacular spots imaginable, sometimes looking down over sheer cliffs to valleys, plains and lakes far, far below.

Our host Pepe welcomed us as if we were family.

Pepe guided us flawlessly and the grooms who rode along were unfailingly attentive and courteous. Pepe was always a fund of information and had many stories to tell about the country we passed through. One day we left the horses beside the lake and made the crossing to the finca by boat, passing softly over the azure waters of the lake.

Our adventurous rides ended back within the cool walls of the peaceful hacienda.

It was always a pleasure to find our welcoming room again in the evening after a long day in the saddle, to sip another delicious margarita, to have seen totally new country and yet not to have had to pack and rearrange our things. We forgot our worries and could have stayed on indefinitely in that lovely setting.

Ride Review by Bayard Fox

My Horse was Norse, of Course

I think, perhaps, that Greenland and Iceland have been misnamed. Well, all right, I have never been to Greenland, but when I visited Iceland in July, I was pleasantly surprised at how very green it is. One of the many aspects of Iceland that has remained with me is that Iceland is a land of contrasts. The island nation is an active volcanic region where plentiful black lava rock and sand in the highlands contrasts sharply with verdant lush farm country in the lowlands. Crystal clear rivers, waterfalls and white glacier faces add yet another dimension to a subtly colored and varied landscape.

I began the 8-day Fjallabak tour by spending a day in the capital city of Reykjavik. Iceland’s Scandinavian heritage is immediately apparent in its architecture and inhabitants. Armed with a guidebook and good walking shoes, one can easily explore the central and historic section of the city near the Tjorn (the Pond) in an afternoon. Because of its relative proximity to North America, most Icelanders speak English in addition to their native Icelandic, and most travel facilities provide information printed in English.

The riding portion of the tour began at the farm belonging to the tour leaders. The entire family who graciously opened their home to us for a delicious mid-day meal warmly welcomed our group. These riding adventures tend to not be dominated by American tourists, but usually provide a congenial mixture of Europeans and North Americans. Riders on this Fjallabak tour hailed from France and Germany in addition to Pennsylvania and Wyoming. Following our meal, we gathered in the warm sunshine by the barn. Broad smiles appeared quickly on our faces as a herd of 38 Icelandic horses cantered into the yard, appearing friendly, curious and eager to start off on a new trek. The majority of the horses used for the tour are raised and trained by the outfitters themselves, so the individual characteristics and personalities of each horse are well known. Each rider was given a saddle and then handed the reins to their new mount and companion. We quickly learned the routine of catching, brushing, saddling and bridling that we were to follow for the next 8 days.

Tolting over volcanic fields is a dust-raising experience!

The horses themselves are likely one of the most appealing aspects of visiting Iceland. When Viking voyagers settled the island in the 10th century, they brought with them their most prized possessions…their horses. The breed has remained almost unchanged since that time. The Icelandic horses are renowned for their unique gaits, the “tolt”, a smooth four-beat running walk which enables them to cover rough ground at a quick and comfortable pace, and the “skeid” or flying pace. You will find almost any horse color that you can imagine within the one breed, although chestnuts or sorrels seem to dominate. I was fascinated by those the color of rich black coffee. For many of us, it was our first experience riding Icelandics as we departed from the farm and headed out across grassy pastures. With a little coaching and flawless demonstration by the ride staff, we soon learned how to stretch our torsos upright and stretch our legs down to a fairly long stirrup while supporting the horse just slightly through the bridle to encourage them to tolt. The resulting one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four rhythm became a steady and soothing accompaniment to our ride.

You will find almost any horse color that you can imagine within the one breed, although chestnuts or sorrels seem to dominate.

During the second day of riding the terrain gradually changed from the lower lush farmland to the more rocky and barren highlands. Midway through that day, all of the extra horses that had been led alongside those under saddle were turned loose. They quickly took advantage of their freedom and disappeared in a cloud of dust over the first ridge. However, as soon as we crested that same ridge we found them patiently waiting for us on the other side. During the remainder of the ride the loose horses were constant companions, choosing to travel close to their herd mates. Their presence provided us the opportunity to change mounts mid-day, keeping them fresh and eager to travel.

The volcanic landscape of Iceland offers an unique horseback riding adventure.

For the most part, the weather encountered was better than I expected for Iceland. We were blessed with several days of clear blue skies and temperatures reaching 70 degrees in the lowlands. As is typical of the highlands, we also rode for a day through rain showers with a moderate breeze. That same afternoon we reached Landmannalaugar where we enjoyed the open-air hot spring pool. We soaked and chatted and welcomed the heat even as the cool misting rain splashed our heads and faces. Landmannalaugar is one of the larger mountain huts used during the ride. It has several large rooms reserved for use by hiking or riding groups and several campgrounds are located in the vicinity. The facilities are supervised by a warden, whose occupation is similar to that of a park ranger in the States. Our dinner that evening, as on most evenings, began with hot tasty soup and plenty of hearty bread. This was followed by vegetables and one of the products Iceland is justly famous for, fresh succulent baked salmon. We were then treated to the warden’s solo a cappella performance of a traditional Icelandic folk song, his charming way of welcoming us to his homeland.

I had been warned before I set out on this ride, that a strong wind carrying fine particles of abrasive volcanic sand might be encountered, particularly in areas close to the glacier faces. We had spent most of a morning riding across gently undulating hills and ridges before descending onto a flat and sandy landscape. The accompanying vehicle, which carried all of the luggage, food and gear, met the group down on the flat. Here we enjoyed our picnic lunch. A variety of sandwiches were offered, along with fruit, sweets and welcome hot beverages. As we ate and rested, our ride leader looked off across the sandy expanse toward low dark clouds partially obscuring the distant glacier. “Get ready” she warned us, “the wind is going to blow.” We made sure to have gloves on and our hats, jackets and sunglasses securely fastened. A necessary precaution was to have scarves available to draw up over our mouths and noses. We bravely faced the waiting storm as we rode across the black sand toward the glacier. However, what we did not expect, was to ride into a soft and gentle surrounding fog. Its closeness seemed to request silence and subdued the already subtle colors to where it felt as if we had suddenly ridden onto the set of a black and white film. In the quiet blanket of fog we continued on, the steady four-beat rhythm and occasional snort or jingle of reins and bits being the only soft sound.

Fording one of numerous streams along our route

Accommodations during the ride included two converted farmhouses and five mountain huts, with a different location being used each evening. Most everyone agrees that the mountain hut at Bolstadur has remained in their memories as their favorite lodging. There is something special about descending from a higher rocky plateau where rain is likely encountered to this hut perched on the edge of a gentle green slope overlooking a wide river valley. As soon as the horses had been cared for, we stretched out on the grass to enjoy the warm sunshine and the incredible view of mountains and glaciers in three different directions.

Resting with a glacier view

We felt fortunate to have among our group a yoga instructor from Germany. She offered to lead us through a series of stretching and relaxation exercises that were welcome after six days of riding. The consensus was that none of us had ever experienced yoga in a more peaceful, beautiful or unusual location. This hut is more representative of traditional Iceland highland lodging than others we stayed in. During the fall, when the multi-colored sheep are gathered from the surrounding hills, the local farmers often utilize this accommodation. The lower level of the hut includes a simple stable offering protection from the weather for both horses and sheep. The upper level is one large room with bunks and mattresses lined up along two walls, and a small kitchen on one end. A row of tables and benches occupied the center of the room. As was typical of the other mountain huts we stayed in, the building appeared very simple and utilitarian from the outside. However, the inside was warm, clean, and cozy. Large windows on either end of the hut took full advantage of the long daylight hours of mid-summer, not to mention the view.
Around the breakfast table the following morning, I could feel the group drawing closer together as a result of our shared experiences. The friendly conversation was sprinkled with humor and far less formalities than when the trek began. We seemed to savor even more our choices of hot or cold cereals, the variety of breads with honey or jam, cheese and cold sliced meats, the tomatoes and cucumbers, fruit juice, tea and coffee. I particularly enjoyed the flavorful dark coffee, richly brewed in the Scandinavian manner. Of course, we all knew that we would have breakfast together again tomorrow, but as we would be leaving the highlands this day and returning to the farms the next day, our last moments at quiet, beautiful Bolstadur were somehow extra special.
Iceland is not necessarily a wise choice of destination for every equestrian. Although the horses are strong and gentle, the lodging warm and comfortable, many travelers find the landscape harsh and austere. The weather can be unpredictable in the highlands where rain and wind are likely. Yet, there is much beauty and reward to be found in the abundant wilderness and fascinating landscapes. If you are a person who appreciates the intimacy of foreign travel conducted by a local family and you can approach a riding tour with a sense of adventure, you just might want to consider exploring the Hekla-Landmannalaugar or Fjallabak regions of Iceland.

Ride Review by Monie Finley

A Phenomenal Desert Horse Riding Adventure

There is something so compelling about riding a sleek horse across the wide-open expanses of a desert landscape. This desert horse safari, which crosses one of the earth’s most extreme landscapes, is a reflection of Namibia itself; stark, austere, minimalist and completely unique.

Riding the Highlands toward the pass.

The first four days we rode in the highlands toward the Kuiseb River Pass, the only place where horses can cross the deep canyon. There was a constant variety of rolling grasslands, plateaus, canyons, dry riverbeds and red sand dunes. Once across the Kuiseb the geology flattens out, and the vegetation becomes increasingly sparse.

The Namib Desert is vast beyond anything I had imagined. We saw wildlife; gemsbok, ostrich, springbok and zebra, and each sighting stands out in my memory as something rare. One evening a herd of zebra and a lone gemsbok galloped along the horizon, outlined against a huge orange setting sun.

We began riding early in the morning after a quick breakfast for ourselves and a thorough grooming and watering for the horses. Lunch was usually quite simple and accompanied by plenty of water, juice or soda. We untacked the horses, let the saddle blankets dry out, and found a shady spot to relax for a few hours. About 3:00pm the cool breeze from the coast arrived, the horses pricked up their ears and we began the afternoon ride westwards to the evening’s campsite. Dinner was always a major event; hearty and delicious, cooked over the coals of an open fire and served with South African wine. Then we turned in for the night, tucked into bedrolls under the enormous dome of southern constellations. It was like sleeping in our own planetarium.

A canter in the sand is a great way to kick up some dust!

The pace, as on any safari, was largely determined by the terrain and influenced by the fact that we had to cover long distances every day. Mostly we did a combination of walk, trot and extended canter. We fanned out, taking advantage of the open country to avoid each others dust.

This desert safari is a phenomenal experience, but quite honestly it’s not for everyone. One must be willing to spend long hours in the saddle, groom and tack one’s own horse, wait in line for a quick shower in limited water, and sleep in a bedroll. The rewards? This desert horse riding adventure will give you a sense of accomplishment like no other, a chance to see landscape like nowhere else on earth, a sense of what really fit, athletic horses can do, a renewed respect for any life form in the harsh desert environment and an unforgettable glimpse into the heart of Namibia.

Ride Review written by Ellen Vanuga

Southwest France with Compass in Hand

Departing the Loire Valley and taking the train southeast to Carcassonne I began a new and somewhat daunting horseback riding adventure – the Equitours Randonnée Liberté trail ride in southwest France. I am by no means a skilled topographical map or compass reader, but do fine with written instructions. I was meeting a client who was joining me for this exciting French riding holiday. Having never met each other before, other than our telephone conversations when arranging her booking, we teamed up in Carcassonne and were driven south about an hour to the small village of about 60 people where the ride begins and ends.

In the warm French farmhouse kitchen we were greeted with a cool beverage and shown to our comfortable, simple rooms. This is a home filled with much laughter and good cheer and as a result the evening meal sometimes goes on for hours with many colorful stories being told. The outfitters, however, are quite serious about how their horses are ridden and cared for, and so we went off for our first day of riding with their daughter who thoroughly checked out everything from our grooming, hoof cleaning and tacking up, to map and compass reading. We must have passed her scrutiny as we were given a ‘thumbs up’ to head out on our own the next morning.

With several maps, a compass, written directions, grain for the horses and a packed lunch in our saddlebags we set off to calls of “Good luck! See you in a week”! The adventure had begun. Our bags would be moved daily to each new accommodation during the week, with feed waiting at every destination for the horses. I am sure questions were asked each day of our hosts of the previous evening to see how they felt we were doing. We were never asked by the organizers if we were okay or needed anything, understanding we would ask if in need.

One evening we enjoyed a beautiful mountain view from our lovely accommodations. I could have happily stayed there for a week, I felt so at home, but the trail led on with the promise of new discoveries ahead.

We found the ride to be more demanding and challenging than we had anticipated with map reading decisions to be discussed and made, wrong trails taken, then backtracking, rereading the map and off on the correct track. It was almost a course in orienteering. We did more road riding than I had expected, however, there was very little if any traffic encountered. One day as we were riding up a long ascent on the wide shoulder of the road, down came cyclists participating in the Carcassone to the Pyrennes bicycle race. They were on the downhill side of the pass and were smiling and waving as they flashed by in their colorful outfits and streamline helmets.

We rode on grass or dirt tracks much of the time, along fields of grain, through wooded areas, climbing ever upward on the strong, fit horses through sycamore and pine forests. In one instance the woods next to us were so thick it was as dark as night inside with no light penetrating. We rode in mists and sunshine, warm and cool breezes, shirtsleeves and jackets, as riding in the foothills of the mountains brings varying weather conditions. I would guess that at any time of the year riders could anticipate the same sort of weather.

There was a day or two when we rode for several hours before seeing another ‘orange arrow’, our beacon telling us we were indeed riding in the correct direction or which trail to take. Always such a welcome and reassuring sight! Some days we rode for hours through foothills and farmland before reaching a small village or even seeing another person – wonderful! One of my most memorable experiences during this week of horseback riding in France was riding round a bend in the trail to see the unbelievable Cathar castle, Puylaurens, appear as if suspended from the clouds.

It was comforting to see each evening’s host family watching for us as we approached, ready to show us where to put the horses for the night, store the tack, take us to our room, and most evenings joining us for their well-prepared evening meal. What a special experience to be welcomed into their homes, sharing briefly in their diverse lives. I felt these wonderful people were one of the greatest gifts of this very unique French riding vacation experience. It would be wonderful to return to this region of southern France that is so strongly influenced by its close proximity to Spain and do this ride again. Having already worked our way through the pitfalls of map and compass reading, it would be a breeze the second time around.

Postscript

I did return in June of 2012 to do this challenging ride again! This time it was with my adult son, Peter, for a wonderful week of enjoying each others’ company in a vastly different setting than usual with shared rooms, bathrooms, meals, morning stretches and decisions on the trail.  There was much laughter and many oohs and aahs at the scenery.  I was once again the written directions person while he mastered the maps and compass.

Positive changes have taken place on this ride since I first rode there. Trail markers are clearer now, maps and written directions are set up for each day and laminated to protect from any unexpected moisture.

My son Peter and the inquisitive “guard” boar.

There are some lovely new locations in which to spend the night and new stories to be shared, such as our encounter with a friendly boar in a wildlife reserve. At some of the familiar spots I found that a second generation of family were now our hosts.

We enjoyed our good, fit horses and Peter loved his horse so much that he wanted to take him home.  There was a very touching farewell at the end of our ride as Peter’s horse was being led past on his way out to pasture. The horse stopped in front of Peter and leaned his forehead against his chest, standing there for a few moments before being led off.  Moist eyes all around!

Ride Review written by Nancie Vion-Loisel