jhubbel

On Thursday, July 16 I head for Reykjavik to spend a bit more than four weeks in this fascinating country. I began planning the horseback riding trips two years ago based on the recommendations of a fellow riding enthusiast who loved Icelandic horses she bought and imported two of them to her home in Mallorca. Now I get to find out why they are universally loved.

I'm booked with Eldhestar for three different trips, then ten days on the Ring Road by car. Along the way, plenty of time to adventure, which includes tours, kayaking, and whale watching. Will be sharing insights, stories and whatever may come.

One thing I did prepare for was the food, and the cost of things like snack food. A good fifteen pounds of my luggage consists of everything from KIND bars to pineapple pieces. The good news: it'll be a lot lighter coming home, with plenty of room for intriguing souvenirs (or a hitchhiking penguin). I hope to be able to provide laughter and lots of good reason for others to make the trip as well.

My Ring Road journey will take me as far north as Ayureki and then back, with some nice jags out onto the peninsulas. As an adventurer, I'm hoping to find things that push me body mind and spirit. I'll post where I have wifi.

Input and commentary along the way are most welcomed. Thanks.

babelic

I look forward hearing about the riding trips. That´s on my bucket list Icelandic horses are also quite popular here in Finland. Have you ridden one before?

jhubbel

No, not yet, Babelic. But I did spent much of last April riding Pasos in Peru, whose paso lleno gait is very similar, although it's a larger animal. I do love a good gallop, but what I enjoy about uniquely gaited horses is that you are challenged to learn a different seat, different commands and a delicate hand on the mouth.

I rode the breeding stallion at one of the stables outside Pacasmayo where much of the primary Paso breeding gets done. That was beyond the beyond, the animal was so extraordinary. I was allowed fifteen minutes, and believe me, that was quite enough. You know when you're on an animal well over your paygrade!


The entire reason I'm on this trip is because of a group of "neighbors" of yours- a collection of Swedish riders with whom I was on safari ride in Tanzania. One rode in Iceland and bought two horses. Her stories convinced me to make this trip.

As long as I have access to wi fi I'll be writing- hope to have plenty of fun stories!

jhubbel

My first impression upon landing was the lack of houses and the lovely lupine like purple flowers that marked the landscape as the bus drove me into town. The people I met up to the Capital Inn were quite lovely, although I was very surprised that Iceland air offered no dinner or breakfast on their flight, but you could buy some. That was a surprise. Glad I packed fruit and a couple of KIND bars.

When a couple of smaller buses left me standing at the bus station because they were full, the folks at Flybus put me on one of their huge boys all by myself and a very kind driver took me over to Capital Inn where a rather brusque owner informed my very tired self in unfriendly terms that he had a full house, and I'd have to wait. He finally got around to telling me that yes, I could buy breakfast, but it was clear that he had his hospitality degree on the wall but that apparently hadn't seeped into his personality. Other staff were far more friendly. The good news was that breakfast was more than adequate and by an hour later someone had vacated a dorm bed and I was allowed to collapse and sleep.

It was a lovely, sunny, gorgeous day, up to about 14 Celcius. I attempted to take a shower, facing off against mystery controls which were opposing knobs on the end of a central rod. I got the water going, and warm water commenced. Then hot, then bloody boiling. Two women housekeeping staff were nearby and I yelled for help, and all I heard was "turn the controls!!" which of course, I had been, rather desperately, on both ends. The water got hot enough to turn the metal fittings too hot to handle so I turned it all off and ended up washing out of the sink.

The girl finally came in and attempted to work with the shower, but everything was far too hot to the touch. Now mind you, the far more typical problem in hotels and hostels is cold showers, so part of me isn't complaining, but I now have a sterilized and bright red patootie to begin my trip, and I'm afraid I don't trust the plumbing.

I was able to write and rest and read to get rid of jet lag. There's a huge Japanese tour group here, and a smattering of Dutch, German and other tourists. As I sit here, the owner is pushing the last of the Japanese tourists to move - he is downright rude. Well, some of us write reviews.

annhig

The good news: it'll be a lot lighter coming home, with plenty of room for intriguing souvenirs (or a hitchhiking penguin).>>

that WILL make headlines.

I hope that your injury won't stop you sitting on a horse.

jhubbel

A warm tush never stopped me from riding, as the last seven plus days testified to, Ann.

Right now I'm sitting in the warm and busy kitchen of the Bus Hostel near Reykjavik, where folks are fixing breakfast and I am hiding out for a bit. Recovering as it were from the first and most challenging of my three rides- called Desert to Desert with Eldhestar, this was, of my three, the toughest, which is a great way to begin. There's so much to report that the challenge is going to be editing down what's worth reporting.

First of all an overview. Eldhestar's been around for a while and they run a very smooth operation. You're picked up and brought to their facility, which is a nice hotel. My luck of the draw was to be the only English speaker (American) with a group of some 22 German horsewomen of that 20is to 30ish variety, and I am going to stop there and let you use your vivid imagination to do the rest, except to add that many of them are dressaged trained, and if that isn't enough I'll tell you a couple of stories to give you the lay of the land.

I walked into my room which had three German women already in it and the icicles were felt immediately, like oh crap, we got the American. Thanks but no thanks, guys. Nobody spoke English, or I should say, chose to speak English for most of this trip. The first and only attempt I made at an outreach was to a twenty something blond gal when I asked if she had ridden in Argentina. To which she responded with an almost comically arch tone: YES, AND Ecuador, AND Peru, AND Chile, AND.... Which was intended to be a very rude put down. No matter that I have also ridden in these countries as well as a great many more, but that's not the point. What was attempted as a friendly conversation starter was slapped away with extreme arrogance. At that, I said fine, I got the lay of the land here. I'm nearly three times this girl's age and I refuse to enage myself in kindergarten done upsmanship antics.

As a result, I had my own ride, and these women had theirs, and where it was required that I pitch in, I did so with pleasure and enthusiasm, but when it came to social interaction, I bowed out. In any case there was no room at the table, none was offered, the conversation was in German, and I had lost interest in participating but for one young girl who had moved to Sweden and didn't seem to need to bear airs. As I'm a journalist who likes to write in the early mornings, I found my own rhythm.

It wasn't at all what I expected, but it was what I got from a community, so you deal with the hand you have. Now, to the ride, which was spectacular.

Some visions: We are moving 55 horses from points A to B each day, with stops variously at cottages with no plumbing or electricity or spots where we do, and we all plough in and grab the best place to sleep in dorm facilities. Cook, who is my age or close, is fabulous, and she and I make instant friends (very smart move). She gets to know my early to bed, early to rise habits which are the opposite of everyone else's and as a result we get to talk, eat and have fun together which more than makes up for the lack of conversation elsewhere. The guides, who are from all over, are simply fantastic and I cannnot say enough, a particular story follows of one named Sara, but they were supremely professional, competent and a joy.

We stopped at one point early on just after my camera battery ran out. Imagine a field of knee high purple lupine, 55 horses and all of us in a circle around them, the horses up to their eyelashes grazing among the flowers. The skies a cerulean blue with wisps of clouds moving overhead. In the background, shoulders of mountains iced with snowcaps. Me with a dead camera, but this image is seared in my memory as one of the most breathtaking I have ever seen. We would often stop to graze in many conditions, but this was by far the most lovely.

jhubbel

The tolt itself is another whole story. The first day of the tour you are asked to ride around the arena, and the guides make sure you aren't going to fall off. The horses, tolt or trot, and if you're a rank beginner, you're not entirely sure which is which, although you do get a sense of it. However as the trip begins you learn a couple of key things: The horses will always test you to see if you know how to ask for the tolt, and if not, will trot first. If you want to learn where your pelvis begins, ends and how badly it can hurt, try this for nine hours, discover how your spine can compress, and the impact of having your shoulders turn into earrings. You think this is funny. I had a helluva migraine and used half my liniment on the first night. Then you get up and do it all over again Day 2.

If you are REALLY smart and not some overblown tender ego you ask the guides for feedback. Remember: it doesn't matter how good you are at home. First time here means new country, new gait, new horses. You are a beginner and you can put your high flying ego aside and learn how to ride all over again. The basics are the basics. But if you're too proud to say please teach me how, you are going to suffer.
The guides took an enormous amount of time off my learning curve and they were gracious enough to hear me when I said I wanted feedback. I may be an so called advanced rider but the only thing that makes me an advanced rider everywhere in the world is the willingness to admit I don't have a clue. This was a perfect example. My feet kept flying out of my stirrups for three days until I finally figured out what I was doing wrong. I'd be tolting along fat dumb and happy and pow, both feet out and there'd be the stirrups walloping the poor animal's sides.

The riding position here is legs nearly straight down as though you are standing in the stirrups. My trainers at home beat on me for years to get me to bend my legs back a certain way and they finally cured me of my too-straight leg. My bent leg was causing me to lose my stirrups constantly- which is why beginner's mind is so important here. It helps to have a healthy sense of humor, because my trainers are going to have a job beating it back out of me again this summer.

The Open-Soft-Curious approach which is what I teach in my seminars works very well here- in both dealing with these delightful animals, which are so affectionate and willing, and can also be headstrong. At my request I was given spicer and more challenging horses after the second day, and ended up with Knott, who wouldn't tolt for anyone. I love to massage my animals, and she got a belly rub, halter rub, head rub, ear rub and butt rub. She tolted, not without being a banshee for ten minutes, but she tolted, and as a gift, I got her back the final day when we got our choice to ride. The moral of this is that any well trained, perfect horse makes us look like experts but in many ways we are just sitting on them, and they make us look perfect. This in no way denigrates the quality of work that any good horsewoman puts in to learn the subtle hand, leg and other signals we all have to learn when it comes to horesemastership. Whether in the arena or the field, however, it's when we're given a real challenge that we find out who we are. Put us on a ruffian, an outlaw, and you will find out if you deserve the term horseback rider. Then you have to use your skills, you love of the animal, your desire to respect and work with it, and you earn its cooperation. I love tough horses for that very reason. Knott wasn't difficult. She loved loving riders. The last day I rode her she tolted the whole time and was an angel. You just have to ask nicely.

bilboburgler

I'm impressed, after half a day of having my a£££ beaten into merinque by a hot sofa I gave up. Mrs Bilbo still laughs at the memory of my gait as I walked up the road to the town spa.

Hot water, they have so much they don't know what to do with it.

lincasanova

I'm enjoying this report! Waiting for the next installment!

jhubbel

Each of us rides three to four different horses each day. This is simply fabulous for so many reasons. Each animal of course is unique in its gait, which forces you to learn, adapt, made different demands of your skills and of the animal. You develop favorites. You get tested and fall in love and watch others ride your "baby." You hope against hope you get to ride him or her again.

We stop every so often for grass and/or water, and sporadically we change out our horses. This also means that we form a circle including a plastic twine to create a makeshift corral which works remarkably well as long as the Holders of the Twine stay focused. On the fifth day one person let go of her horse's reins and it plunged into the midst of the herd, setting them off at the run, breaking the discipline. In a matter of seconds this horse, reins flying (which is very dangerous for the animal had it or another horse gotten tangled in them) was hurtling up a hill in the midst of the herd, but so were the guides. To their credit, the runaways were back under control in seconds, and calm was enforced.

The conditions changed sometimes minute to minute it seemed, although it took longer than that. We crossed streams and headed out over what looked to be solid rock and ground, and in seconds the horses were mired to their knees in mud. The melting snows had so softened the earth it was nearly like quicksand. These powerful animals found their way out back to more solid ground- even the snows were more safe to walk upon in many cases.

And walk on snow we did, and it's a lovely sight to see a line of 55 horses walk or run across a snow field. We all got the chance to ride in front or back depending on the personality or nature of our animals. Being in front, we could turn around and witness this sight, these gorgeous creatures with the wind blowing their luxurious manes from their intelligent faces as they danced across the snowfields to catch up with their mates on the other side.

As we got into the highlands, another factor of the melting snow was the water soaked tundra. What I first thought was rocks were loam lumps, and the high grasses hid pools of water so deep that we had to dismount in order to walk our horses through to higher ground. This variety was not only a challenge but it was an education in a changing environment and part of the constant fascination of each day, each passing hour.

For example, for a period of time we passed over particularly dry areas given to deep dust, during a period where the winds were significant. I had brought a buff with me, which for those of you who are not familiar is a lightweight, tubular item that you pull over your head, wear in a multitude of ways, can breathe through, and is hugely useful for keep your head and face warm. And in this instance- especially for those of us who like to hike in dusty places like Nepal, it is an essential item to keep out particulates. I had one on under my riding helmet and used it to filter out most, but not all, of what the herd was hoofing up behind us as we rode. No matter were you were in the order of things, at some point it was going to be your turn in the dust bomb. It would get so bad you couldn't see hide nor hair of the person in front of or next to you, then it would clear, and moments later here it would come again. When I finally had the chance to wash my buff out back here in Reykjavik it took something like eleven washings to get out the filth, such was the level of dirt it had accumulated, and had protected my lungs from breathing in.

I saw others using great heavy scarves to achieve the same purpose, but this tiny buff, which can be purchased at any outdoor store, weighs nothing, dries in a heartbeat, and is a lifesaver. If you're considering any of these rides, don't go without one. It fits under your helmet without any bulk and you can pull it up over your mouth and nose as needed while riding. Absolutely priceless.

jhubbel

Thanks for your kind replies, sitting here in the kitchen slaving away.....

jhubbel

As I am fond of large animals (being farm raised) I love to work with them up close and personal. Being a VERY early riser- as in four am, and since it's nearly light as noon at that time of day anyway, our second day on the road gave me an opportunity to do what I absolutely love to do: dive into the herd first thing in the morning. I couldn't do this every day as it depended entirely on how close the animals were to our sleeping quarters. However on several occasions they were right there and I could slip out while the snoring was at its loudest, grab an apple or orange and head to where the hay lay.

As the horses assumed that a human usually meant one of two things: either a treat (goodie) or work (well, not so goodie, depending on the horse) you could be greeted with enthusiasm or avoided entirely. What I do is work the animal's hides with my nails, front to back, top to bottom. This nothing like a curry comb or brush.This is a full on massage. This means getting under the belly, between the legs, front and back, behind and inside the ears. What happens, when you are given permission, is that the animals- and believe me they love it when you get going- contort themselves and stick out their necks and their lower lips quiver and they twist themselves all over the place. The sensations are brand new as it's highly unlikely anyone has done this before. Some will approach and plant their heads in your hands, and beg a head scrub. Often this means, get your fingers in my ears and I mean WAY down in there. One horse I did this for nodded his head in huge enthusiasm so much so that I lost hold several times and had to reposition myself. This horse followed me around while I worked on other animals and constantly poked his nose into my business, demanding more, while I was patiently trying to work on somebody else.

Others walked briskly in the other direction, or you could do little more than stroke their sides. Like every creature in the Universe every animal was either receptive or not, curious or not, and those who were curious and receptive were well rewarded. I'd no sooner get to work on one animal than a big fat nose would poke into my face saying "Scuse me, kin I have summa that puhleeze???" or I'd feel a head bump from behind. In a big herd like that news got around fast, and it didn't take long before I had a few taker uppers on the massage line.

One big paint named Flickr had a particularly sweet personality. He was a pleasure to work on, if for no other reason than he expressed his obvious delight in being rubbed down and kept reaching round to touch my hand. When I work on large animals I often get licked in response, depending on the animal, and with horses it sometimes means getting nibbled or mouthed. Flickr stood motionless and arched his back when I worked his spine, scrubbed his pelvic bones and muscles and gave his butt a healthy scrub. There is an area on the horse where the legs touch in the back, if you embrace this hindquarter and put your hands together and scratch with your nails, this is tantamount to catnip for them. Sometimes they turn and look at you with surprise, like "whaaaaaaat????" but it is invariably a source of deep pleasure.They will stop everything they're doing, including eating, to feel that scratch. If you take your time, and explore with curious hands, it takes about fifteen minutes to find a particular horse's favorite spot. One some it's right behind where the girth hits. On others it's that sweet spot between the legs. Others still its the ears, others, it's the middle of the neck or on many, it's that bump right behind the ears that you seem them scratching on any available post. It's one of the most fun things to do, to find that spot, and send a huge animal into paroxysms. I have done this with elephants and tigers and camels and oxen and wild does, not kidding, and it is one of the greatest joys of my life. Hey, even my BF lucks out once in a while. He has to get in line.

Possibly the single most important aspect of this is to have absolutely no fear. Fear is read as a threat, and horses are flight animals. Your intent is read before you even walk up to the animal so if you're fearful, that's felt first. These sweet natured Icelandic horses have lived many centuries without natural predators like big cats or bears, and the advantage is that their relationship with humans has evolved into something else again. That has made them exceptionally affectionate and receptive. They are willing, and while some of my fellow riders and even a guide or two claimed a horse here or there to be stubborn, I found that label to be unfair. There was nothing that a good pre-ride belly rub wouldn't cure. I honestly believe that when a horse has a true sense of how you're going to treat it, and it senses that you're going to be kind, respectful, reward it for good work and effort, speak to it kindly, not saw on its delicate mouth, and understand the hard work that it offers to carry your bulk around up and down this tough terrain, it won't be stubborn. Quite the opposite. I've never seen a more willing and happy breed.

jhubbel

One of the characteristics of riding in the highlands is the wind. The weather changed constantly. One simply magnificent lesson one learns on this trip if you are primarily an arena rider and you prefer your weather constant is that you can and will be able to ride in any and all conditions. You have no choice. The horses have to be fed and moved, and you with them. Your carcass has to get out of your sleeping bag. 

A note on sleeping bags, by the way. Again, as an observer and as an adventure traveler it occasionally intrigues me to see what people bring on trips such as this. I made the mistake once of renting the offered sleeping back for the Macchu Picchu trip in Peru. I own, and will now ALWAYS bring, my less than one pound zero F rated bag that weighs less than the bag liner I bought to go with it. That bag weighed well more than five pounds, and ended up costing me an extra $150 and an extra porter. Lesson learned. Good gear is worth the expense. My bag punches down to the size of a bread basket. Nobody believes it can be so warm but it's 900 fill down and I sweat it in it in sub zero weather. Based on the number of days you're traveling you can get by with minimal toiletries as you're not going to have access to a shower for a few days anyway. What are essential are face wipes- you cannot live without them. While it's disgusting to see what comes off your face at the end of the day, there is this sense of satisfaction that it is indeed coming off, and it's better than trying to fight Cook for the sink, using ice cold water. Besides, you can get the bigger wipes for your whole body, they smell delicious, are soaked with moisturizer. It's not easy to find a private corner with that many people to remove your duds and scrub down but it's worth it. I don't travel without them, and on showerless days, and after all that dust, trust me. You will thank yourself a thousand times over for bringing them.

Another funny note about privacy. When you are riding, and bouncing, and drinking lots of coffee and tea, well, okay, the inevitable happens. I don't know if those of you reading have been here, are here, have seen photos. But where I rode, and the photos I took to make this point, for miles and miles and miles in every single direction there wasn't a tree, bush, rock, or berm in sight to go squat behind. So okay, sometimes when we stopped we could walk a good long way to find a slight rise and go hide behind that. But for the most part, and our guides were excellent examples of this, it was a "stand and deliver" kind of process.

Let me explain with a story.

This past February I was riding a camel for seven days in Tanzania through Masai territory, where white people simply don't go. I was with five simply wonderful Masai men, one named Raymond, with whom I'd ridden before. The Masai live in large bomas where their extended families and animals all cohabit. We had three camels. I rode, they walked. There were maybe seven or eight large bomas, and we were right in the middle.

It had been four hours since breakfast and I had to PEE. 

Unfortunately, when a white person shows up in this area, word gets around fast, and people come running. Hundreds were doing just that. Straight for our party. Raymond told me to get down, Dominique my camel kneeled and I dismounted and started walking in all directions, casting about in some desperation for a bush, any bush, or tree or ravine or any damned place where I could take care of my increasingly insistent burden. As Robin Williams used to say, gravity works.

By this point, people were hurtling towards me, women carrying children, screaming mzunga, mzunga (white person, white person!!) and I was speed walking towards a shaded tree. Nope, three people sleeping. Swiftly I changed directions and moved towards a part of the ravine that looked shady. There stood a silent Masaii warrior, with his herd, one leg planted inside his knee, staring at me implacably. Nope. I whirled around and headed in another direction. The crowd came on, Ray yelled at me and I looked at him. He made one motion with his hand and I understood immediately.

I pulled my hat down over my eyes, dropped my pants and peed right there in the middle of all those people. That was his motion. That was the only choice I had. Giggling to myself, I reseated my hat, strode with the utmost dignity back to my kneeling camel, and got back on. Dominique rose to his full seven foot plus height, scattering the crowd in all directions, Ray grinned at me ear to ear, I grinned back, and we rode triumphantly out of the bomas. They talked about it for days. I am famous now (oh for god's sake at least I love to add that).

This is what you do here.

jhubbel

Deserts to Deserts takes you well into the very high country where you see everything from volcanic rock fields to rushing streams lined with green moss, fields of loam that look like rocks, nearby peaks and always, always the glaciers, two huges ones, sometimes near, sometimes far, on the horizon. One thing I loved about this tour was the feeling of being in the real wild, so far out in the open, so far away from anything that smacked of everyday life.

Bilboburgler, I relate to your tale. What's funny about having committed to a trip like this is when you go to bed and your various bits and pieces are shrieking with righteous indignation and threatening to sabotage you in the morning, you know full well what you're in for the next day. (Butt to head: "I'm sorry. You wanna do WHAT again??) It took three days for my body to adjust. I've always been an endurance athlete and at 62 it's no different now. My 35 yo cycling girlfriend and I have laughs about how the first half hour of cycling we wheeze, gripe, moan, beg, wheedle, complain, make excuses, spit, curse and generally annoy anyone close by. Five hours later we're going full speed and having a ball while all the early speedsters are dropping like flies. I suspect it's that slow vs fast twitch thing, I'm not an expert.

What I do know is if we place a demand on ourselves the body will adapt, especially if we ask consistently and somewhat reasonably, and that applies no matter our age. Alena, a young Hawaiian girl here on travel with 21 other American students, told me of her 60ish mother who teaches hula dancing on one of the outlying islands to about 200 oldsters- into their 80s and more- with every positive side effect you can possibly imagine especially since the classes are outside. I figure if we make excuses we will get an excuse for a body, if we make demands we will get a body that lives up to them. We pay along the way (hence, bring liniment, I strongly recommend EFAC cream, ebay, $24) but it is worth it, I reckon. I face limitations but it's remarkable how much can still get done (no plans for summitting Everest, thankuyouverymuch). It's a delight to run into so very many people past fifty, sixty doing the most extraordinary things just about everywhere. With one exception, the outfit that runs glacier walks on Perito Moreno Glacier in Patagonia has decided outright that if you're over fifty you're too old to walk on the glacier. Oh well. But hey, if I were you, I'd try the ride again, and come loaded for bear with that liniment, and stick it out a few days and see if your body doesn't adapt, and surprise you. It will, mark my words, and delight you with its resilience. The body never stops its ability to learn something new, we're the ones who lose our faith in it.

jhubbel

For those of you wondering about the food fare on the trip, I am not the best person to ask. I'll try to provide some insight, based on what I saw Cook putting together. I'm one of those no gluten, mostly fruit and vegge, no meat types who suck up yogurt by the gallon, and threaten to turn into a garbanzo bean by the age of eighty from all the hummus. That gave the crew pause, so lunch for me was often a few gulps of water and three handfuls of peanuts and raisins (good think I had packets of almond butter) while most folks got two sandwiches and cookies, biscuits, other snacks. They provided dried fruit and nuts but lots of bready things.

I snuck breakfast in long before anyone got up and it consisted of two huge bowls of yogurt and honey.Cook always had an assortment of sliced meats, vegetables like tomatoes and cukes, red pepper slices, boiled eggs and other cold offerings that you could make into impromptu sandwiches. Porridge often made an appearance. Always coffee and tea and other drinks available (by "other" I'm not including boubon so don't get your hopes up).

I saw steaks and potatoes one night for supper, but as I was in bed with yogurt in the belly or nothing at all by 7 pm I usually had no clue what was served. One night it was a baked chicken of some kind, with salads, another night it was breaded thick fried cod. I can attest that it all smelled heavenly. Cook has spent time in Uganda and other parts of Africa and the world on all kinds of assignments, she knows what she's doing and she is a real pro. You could get skyr, for those who don't know what that is it's an Icelandic national dish similar to but not yogurt. Made of skim milk it is thick, sweetish, spoons up like dense cream, and is often mixed with berries. Very very nice any time of day, often is a dessert.

A good 10 kg of my luggage came over as imported snacks, ranging from KIND bars to dried fruits and Justin's Almond butter and big bags of mixed fruit and nuts. I found this incredibly useful on the trail. I wore a hip backpack which carried extra glasses, chapstick, a handkerchief, snacks and painkillers. They recommend you bring one and I second that heartily. My camera lived in that backpack, and was well protected there. It sat on my stomach during the rides for easy access. You don't want a big one, a medium sized one will do fine. Too big and it gets in your way especially when you're trying to pull on one of those big bulky overcoats when it starts pelting rain. And it will. 

jhubbel

Another priceless piece of equipment that you can pick up for a few bucks on ebay or for about twelve bucks at REI is a flynet that goes over your helmet. They sell them here, and you do NOT want to be out there on a less than windy day, or an overcast day without one. There are masses of small black flies that like nothing better than exploring orifices- it's bad enough that the horses are tortured by them, but climbing into your nose, ears, eye ducts, mouth, please. Get one. But I did learn something from Confucius on this trip. Heed me well.

Confucius say,

"When clearing nostrils, first remove flynet."

I am a born and raised farm girl, and as a runner, athlete whatever, I am totally unashamed about clearing my nostrils (farmering is what it's called) to make sure I can breathe especially when I'm in the middle of some major exercise and there is just no time for the niceties of Kleenex. Nor are any nearby.

That said, I've already spoken about the dust. Combine this with about six women who "came down," as they say in the South where I am from, the sniffles, which I got, and here we are.

So we're riding along at speed. I have gloves on. It's cold. Windy. Blustery. I can't breathe. I've had my flynet on for hours and am accustomed to the slightly darker world. I totally space that I have one on.

I assume the position and BLATTTTT. A massive loogey has suddenly attached itself nearly at eye level on the inside of my flynet and is now threatening to attach itself to my left cheek.

Do you have any idea how difficulty it is to appear heroic when you are riding along with a massive loogie hanging on the inside of your flynet? There is nothing Wagnmerish, no Ride of the Valkeryies going on here.

Can you imagine what Robin Williams would do with this material?

So, problem is- how do you get rid of it while moving at speed, wind and bounce, gloves on?

WELL I BETTER DO SOMETHING FAST BECAUSE NOW IT'S STARTING TO MOVE SOUTH AND IF I DON'T GET IT FAST IT WILL LIVE IN MY TURTLENECK FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS.

Time for an Executive Decision.

I take a huge breath, wind up my left hand (the one with the Goretex glove on it) take aim and mash the booger (pun intended) on my left cheek.

Eeewwwww.

I had to ride like that for more than an hour.

At the next stop I pointed my horse away from the group and did my best impromptu clean up job which held until cottage time.

I swear, mashing that thing into my cheek took more gumption that jumping out of an airplane, which at least has an element of FUN to it.

So forewarned is forearmed, ladies and germs, you must and should wear a flynet, you will likely forget you're wearing one, and you now know the dangers thereof, and if any of you chew tobacco, well then. 'Snuff said.

jhubbel

The above is one reason why I strongly believe that it is simply impossible to take ones self too seriously - in much of anything, really, except perhaps brain surgery- and it reminds me of how important joy is in all things. If this stuff didn't happen I wouldn't be sitting here in this kitchen rewriting these stories all day and LMAO, which is hugely fun, and pure delight. Because this stuff is funny. And the real reason John Elway won The Drive against The Browns was because in the huddle way back near the end zone he said to the team, "OK boys, we've got them where we want them," and they all cracked up, and that little piece of mastery was what did it. Humor and joy and a sense of the insanity of life give us our stories, which, in sum, are all we are, and if this stuff didn't happen to us, we'd go home and this would happen:

How was your trip?
Great.
Anything happen?
Nope.
Have fun?
Guess so.
Nothing exciting?
Not really.
Okay. See ya........

I say, bring on the loogeys!

jhubbel

In terms of gear or staying warm, based on where we were up in the high country I found that a layering system worked best. I had bought a light down jacket for the trip but it was a miserable choice for multiple reasons. First it didn't have a two way zipper so that I couldn't loosen it for riding (riding jackets for winter tend to have peplums or split backs) so it rode up and it wasn't as wind proof as was needed for the brisk (oh no, really?) winds we encountered. Icebreaker layers tend to be superb and Sierra Traders always has some on sale for men and women, often with hoods, which came in handy for days that it got nasty. The hoodie styles tended to be very form fitting so a helmet fit over them. A fleece was helpful as an air catching layer and good for the cottage at night.

A very good investment for any adventure trip is a pair of Feathered Friends down booties. They're not cheap, because they're good, and they're good because they have the kind of bottom you can walk outside in which many down booties do not. They are layered inside and have slide closures, are incredibly light. Mine go with me everywhere and if your feet get cold easily, these are very helpful. Feathered Friends also made the small, packable down pillow that made this trip and made my nights right comfy. Their stuff is worth the price, it's all very well made. I use stuff sacks used for kayaking which are waterproof to stuff my gear in which protects everything from a sudden downpour. It adds a touch of weight but your gear will NEVER get wet and for my money that's worth the added ounces. Most stores that have water sports sections have waterproof bags of all kinds and sizes. The other advantage is that if your boots get fragrant you can pack your pair into a big bag and not send the TSA people to the hospital (maybe you want to?) or on the brighter side, keep all your other stuff from getting grimed by the soles. Long practice taught me to use black markers, tags and put the contents on everything because you will NOT remember what's in each of the blue bags, the green bag, the red bag. You just won't.

Another surprising bit, at a couple of cottages we had electricity, but there was a bum rush for the outlets. I had my iPad for writing on (with notepad and pencil, not pen, for backup, another lesson learned the hard way). So I was able to stay charged and able to write the entire time which wasn't expected but much appreciated. Why people bring their phones on such trips is beyond my understand but I'm a Boomer and therefore that probably answers that question. On multiple occasions I would see one of these young women in that Stance, clearly talking to someone, when she was facing one of the most breathtaking panoramas one could possibly imagine. She wasn't even in the same time zone. Hey, but that's me. If I invest treasure to be here, I'd like to BE here. My writing instrument is there to capture magic before the details depart, at night long after the day is done. It's no great loss if the battery dies. I have hundreds of handwritten pages, which is a lost art anyway.

jhubbel

Two days before we were to head back we were back at a cottage where the horses were paddocked close to the house. One of the fun aspects of the night was feeding them, and this entailed rolling out a simply enormous bale of hay. These are massive circular bales covered in white plastic. A few of us maneuver one of these hefty boys to the gate, then get it rolling about the same way you'd want to send a big snowball downhill. Once it's inside, a guide knifes a circle in each side to reveal the green, slightly damp sweet hay. The horses have all gathered to watch The Big Unrolling, so they're ready for us. A few nip bites while we remove all the plastic covering. We push the beast around for the right angle, get underneath it and shove. The whole thing unrolls until we need to send it in a new direction, we shove it to the left or right and continue until it's flat.

By this time all the horses are up to their nostrils in the hay munching away, and our job now is to get huge armfuls of it and move it out to other parts of the paddock to make it easier for all the horses to get a shot at a full meal. With all the running they do, they've earned it. So we all make multiple trips until there are small hay piles with horses happily working on them all over the corral. Most folks went inside that night but for a few who had to work on a shoe or two, and one of the girls and me.

One of my favorite rides, Ophelia, had laid down in the hay and was burying her nose in it, making wells that she was working around. I sat down next to her head and quietly watched her. She inspected me to make sure I wasn't there to remove anything. When that was clear she went back to work, and I just sat with her for a while. A few other horses staked their claim by lying on more of the hay, and a while later another of my favorites settled down to enjoy a good rest. I lay on her tummy, and we stayed there for a while as I listened to her breathing. Over my head, a few other horses hung their noses, just in case I was open for business. By this time all the horses I'd ridden had gotten The Treatment, and were thoroughly, utterly, deliciously spoiled, and of course expected lots more every time I showed up. They are so mellow, so quiet, and of course, very tired. But any opportunity for a good rub...



That particular night was, I knew, my last chance to hang out with the herd, so I stayed with them until about 7:30. I walked through the paddock, scrubbing a butt here, rubbing a nose there, digging into a set of ears here. By this point many of the horses had become familiar and I had a good idea of who liked what, and which of the animals had a tendency to scratch their heads against fence posts. When you went after their heads, the bone right behind their ears, they would drop their heads all the way to the ground in pleasure, eyes closed, so happy.

In particular after taking off the saddles, one of the things that horses love best is a solid nail scrub where the saddle has sat. They love to roll, and that's why. The hair has been matted and sweaty and it itches. So going after that area, and really scrubbing it, is sometimes just wonderful for them. The other place they love right after you take the saddle off is all around the belly where the girth has been tight on their skin. On the head, where the bridle has rubbed agains the side of the head. You riders all know this. Those who don't ride, this makes sense if you just consider everywhere they've been rubbed by equipment, where gear has squeezed them, and why they roll. More than a few do their best to use you as a rubbing post which is bad horse manners and you shouldn't let them do this. It's not funny and they can knock you over. You can rub that area for them, but control their heads. Sometimes a horse tosses its head- again, bad manners- and that head weighs a whole lot. You don't want to be on the receiving end of it. It should not be interpreted as affection- it's not- it's a bad habit.

jhubbel

Sara, one of the guides, is from Germany, and had come over to work with the horses for a short while before heading home in August. On about the fourth or fifth day of riding, we were beset by some particularly strong winds, the skies were quite clear, and we had just spent time walking our horses through very watery marshes.

I was riding in the rear of the herd, and we were approaching a swath of river. Not deep but broad and fast running current. I set up my camera to video our crossing. I was about four horses from the rear, and had an excellent view of the whole crossing as we came up to a short rise and began heading down towards the water.

Sara was on a white horse, and she was close to the middle of the river. As I watched her, she reached the middle and headed to the left. Suddenly her horse lurched and went down in the water, throwing Sara into the icy current on her right side. The horse struggled to get up but was nearly submerged, Sara was completely submerged. A second later the horse was up. The animal stood rock still, bracing against the current. Sara, wearing leather chaps, and a massive amount of layering along with a heavy plastic jacket, was caught up in the current and hanging onto the reins.

The horses didn't move a muscle while Sara got her feet underneath her in the near freezing water. She stood quickly, immediately mounted her horse and set to work to ensure that all of us were good to go, the horses were calm and we were continuing to move safely across. I taped all this until she cross over to the other side.

She remained in this wet clothing in this bitter wind without much of a word to anyone until about half an hour later. I was two horses away from her and watched her as she worked to detach the rain gear which would protect her from the wind. Her face was pinched and white, her hands shaking. She was soaking wet. Not a word.

Finally she was covered but still wet, only protected from the wind, and she finished the ride in this condition without a word of complaint. I cannot imagine the pain her hands must have been in trying to work the straps to unroll the protective clothing.

Later on Sara sought me out and found me just as I downloaded the video onto my iPad. She only wished to understand what had happened. We watched over and over, looking at her horse's movement, as she did her best to see what had looked to me like a horse stepping into a hole.

What was so remarkable to me were Sara's consummate professionalism and bravery. She first needed to ensure her horse was all right, then after mounting that everyone else was all right. She bore the very dangerous (and for some it would be deadly) cold and wind chill until she felt it was time to get more protection without complaint. She was calm and quiet about it, joked about it, and simply dried her chaps and got into warm clothing. Little more was said.

What else there is to know about Sara is that she is finishing her PhD in physics, is not only a simply magnificently beautiful woman, and has a way of giving people feedback about their riding which is so gentle and gracious that it is simply impossible to take offence.

In other words, this is one terrific gal. I had a couple of chances to speak with her privately, which was great fun, to learn more about her background outside the riding. I wanted to share this story to give you an idea of the quality of the guides- they were all terrific. This story simply gives you an idea of how terrific. I'd trust any of them with my life- and it just reinforces my faith that Eldhestar knows how to attract excellent talent.

It would be fair to say that a good part of the quality of any trip like this is decided by the staff. Having been on some shoddily run programs in various countries, I can speak to the effect that poor quality staff can have on group morale and the enjoyment of the ride. It was a pleasure to ride with such top notch people, and yes, I did say so to each of them individually.