Horse-riding at Estancia La Margarita

We arrived at the Estancia La Margarita yesterday and immediately warmed to the tranquility of the place.   A few hammocks dotted around the extensive lawned areas, some huge trees, the place almost like a large English country house.  Looking around, it was a beautiful setting.  Beyond the immediate gardens, green fields stretched to the horizon all around you, a lake not far away, some cows here and there and the occasional clump of trees, we were in the middle of nowhere and we’d have unlimited space for riding. 

The Estancia La Margarita

We had our first horse riding trip at 5pm on our first day, the four of us plus Jilde, a volunteer from Holland, and Brian, a seemingly unlikely name for a cool young Argentinian gaucho. (Bwian, Eh?) The horse trip was fun, we had a horse each, Louis and Frankie really excited at getting on their horses, Picasso and Dolores. They’d remembered how much fun they’d had in the Pantanal. Once we'd all inelegantly climbed on, we did a slow walk across some open fields, near the lake, with the occasional very bumpy trotting, it felt very relaxing.  Except for the trotting part.  Trotting feels very awkward, bouncing up and down seemingly completely out of time with the horse, it felt like my bottom was a foot off the horse each time.  I asked the gaucho for some advice, couldn’t understand a word he said in a long stream of rapid Spanish, but picked out the word "fuerte" - strong - and he seemed to be gesturing with his knees, so I tried that.  Might have helped a tad but not much. Did wonder how you ever get past that point, I seemed so inept and wobbly, and would have made a good advert for how not to ride a horse. Jules and the boys were looking pretty comfortable though and didn't seem to be bouncing around as much.

Ready for action!

The boys were loving it and always want to go faster, it reminded me of when we went skiing together, its all about speed for them.  You could see even that although the horses were just walking, the boys were trying to get their horse to walk a little faster than the others. Frankie in particular looked tiny astride his brown horse. We had already asked to ensure that we all had riding hats as people out here prefer the free-flowing “wind in your hair” approach. Fine if you are an expert I suppose, but I remember seeing the chunk that broke off my father’s helmet when he fell while rollerblading last year, (let’s just say he probably wouldn’t have got straight back up again if he hadn’t been wearing it).

Louis and Frankie vying for position

On our second morning ride, we had the same horses as before.  Antoine, a young Belgian volunteer was with us and given he spoke good English, I asked him for some tips as we were riding along.  He said "You need to keep your back straight, and pretend you are making love."  That’s all very well, I thought, but we are going to be out here for an hour and a half. 

A sunny day in the limitless countryside

My horse, Diabla, is apparently a very good horse that others like to ride. In my very limited experience (one ride in the Pantanal and a slow plod around a circular pen in Thunder Bay a couple of years ago) a good horse would be one that does what you want it to do and doesn’t pursue personal ambition at your expense. I’d been pleased that Diabla had fitted that description precisely on the first trip, which was gratifying.  Every now and then she’d start to trot, perhaps if an adjacent horse trotted, but would obediently slow back down to a walk if you indicated as much with the reins. 

Today however, she seemed to have different ideas, and as we passed through a very large field with cows, the dogs with us were off chasing them and my horse decided to join in - apparently they do a lot of cattle herding - just at the moment I thought I’d try and capture a photo of the group behind me with the Bader ActionCam. I had to hurriedly put my camera back in my pocket with my left hand and hang on, hoping not to fall sideways. In my panic I forgot to actually pull on the reins and instead I was saying “Woah” - which I later found out in Spanish actually translates to Oooooooooooh! (seriously) which was why she ignored me.  Then I remembered the reins and pulled on them and she slowed right down again. I looked around and the group were already some way behind me.  Still in a group.  I felt very much on my own, no rescue party here.  I turned Diabla round - she was very obedient for slow turns - and headed back to re-join the group. Jules was the only one who seemed concerned, asking if I was OK, she knew I had no clue what I was doing even though everyone else had assumed I was just off for some exercise. I explained it was terrifying, but there was something almost intoxicating about it.  I remembered what one of the expert volunteers had said yesterday - galloping is smoother than trotting - and it was true, it had been smoother, but it was just the sheer speed and acceleration that took me by surprise.  

For a while after that I felt like somebody at Sothebys trying NOT to buy anything, with an over-zealous auctioneer reacting to the slightest twitch.  I didn’t want to give Diabla any signals to take off again.  However whenever we went through a gate to an open field, she was off, each time I let her go a little further before slowing her down.  It did feel really amazing, and I tried to follow the advice of sitting back in the saddle and squeezing a little more with your knees.  I had to admit I was starting to really enjoy this, even though I felt completely unskilled for the experience, and like I could topple off the side at any moment, wondering whether it was a good idea to have my trainers jammed into the stirrups after all. 

Afterwards, Louis said he had enjoyed it but wished his horse would go fast like mine. Recalling how I felt in the moment, and Jules seeing how white I had gone after the first galloping experience, we were nervous that the boys might panic if this happened to them and organised a separate lesson for them to practice that afternoon with the gaucho and Antoine, who is an excellent horse rider. We wanted our boys to feel in control so that if and when their horse starts going more quickly, they felt confident and relaxed about what to do.

Boys concentrating hard in their lesson

Frankie under instruction from gaucho Brian

The lesson was going well, Louis and Frankie trooping up and down the paddock in their 1-2-1s and gradually learning about the basics of horse control.  Then as we watched Frankie at the far end of the field, his horse started racing off ahead of Brian, the gaucho teaching him. Jules and I were talking to Pablo, the senior gaucho, at the time. We could hear poor Frankie crying out as the horse, oblivious to Frankie’s plight, galloped on at pace. Pablo was shouting something urgently to Brian across the field - no idea what - we willed Frankie to hang on, which to his credit and our immense relief, he did, and eventually Brian caught up with him and the horse slowed.  Brian got Frankie down and gave him a cuddle.  Poor Frankie was shocked and in tears.  After a couple of minutes, Pablo got back on the horse with Frankie this time and they rode around slowly together. By the end of the lesson, Frankie was riding on his own again, we were pleased that he’d agreed to try again in the same lesson and he seemed almost proud that he’d galloped!   He recounted, of the moment, “My hat kept falling in front of my eyes so I couldn’t see anything and just hoped for the best!”  He didn't get past a slow walk again in the ensuing rides, but next time we go riding it's something he wants to try.

Frankie rides with Pablo for a while after his scary gallop!

Louis meanwhile was getting on very well with Antoine, and we were truly amazed when the two of them came back along the dusty road at speed, Louis looking very natural and happy. He doesn't always seem so bothered about sports involving a ball, but is good where balance is involved.

Over dinner we reflected on what it was like being nine years old. Louis said he liked being nine, he’d already enjoyed sand-boarding down a large sand-dune, surfing on some rough waves, whilst remaining on his feet, and had fun horse-riding all just in the first nine days since his birthday!