Day One -- March 30

I knew things were going to be well-run on this riding trip when the driver who met me at the Madrid airport recognized me by sight. "How did you know who I was?" I asked. "Facebook," he said, and proudly showed me my profile picture on his iPhone. Note to self: check privacy settings.

Waiting in the taxi were Joe and Nancy, from Connecticut and Colorado respectively. Both are horse owners and very experienced riders. The driver took us about an hour and a half from Madrid (northwest, I believe), to a town called San Ildefonso. It boasts a lovely chateau and garden that is said to be the Versailles of Spain. The gardens are certainly large and have a lot of topiary.

After walking around in them, the three of us had a two-course lunch with water and wine -- for 10 euros. Let's hear it for the Europe debt crisis.

After a nap and (in my case) a run in the gardens, we met up in the lobby with Maria Elena, our guide, and Enrique, provider of the horses we were going to ride. Also arriving was Sue, the childhood friend who had suggested the trip, as well as Ben and Judy from Canada and Adrian from London. We all set off in a van to Enrique's stable to meet our horses. How exactly each was selected for each of us wasn't clear, but mine was a seemingly charming young Andalusian named Ibero. Then we went for a driving tour of Segovia, the provincial capital about 20 minutes away. It proved to be a beautiful limestone-constructed city from the 13th century or so, with a set of great fortress walls. 

We walked about in the city center  a bit, enjoying the Moorish architecture -- I had no idea they came this far north -- and a little aperitif at a local bar.

A terrific dinner followed at a resto in San Ildefenso. We were joined by Enrique's son, a professional show jumper also named Enrique, who will ride with us later in the week.

Our handouts included a map of our trip, a looping figure 8 north of Segovia through national parks and forests, as well as historic sites and stays in feudal villages, 

 and a day-by schema of our journey through the Sistema Central mountain range. Spain, Maria Elena said, is the second most mountainous country in Europe after Switzerland. 

Day Two -- March 31

We were at the stable a little after 10 and underway by 10:30, the place was so efficient. "The horses will be a little fresh at first," Maria Elena said.

Indeed. As instructed, we kept in single file line as we departed the stable and began to walk across a grassy plain toward some snow-covered hills. Yes, snow-covered. It was cold and windy, but we were well-dressed and there was no rain. About 15 minutes in, after one trot, we walked by a field where some very excited horses were running back and forth. Next thing we know, Judy was galloping by in a rather uncontrollable fashion, Adrian was  on the ground and his horse was racing in circles around the group. The horse had apparently shied suddenly because of the other horses, bumping Judy's horse, just as Adrian was putting something in his saddlebag. 

Maria Elena and Enrique caught the horse, Adrian got back on and we headed off again. The mishap didn't slow us up: We had a couple of canters and managed to stay more or less in line. My horse was fairly fresh but I followed Maria Elena's instructions and kept pretty close contact and used a lot of leg and all was fine.

At noon we stopped for -- no, not lunch of course. This is Spain. We stopped for a snack of Spanish omelet, baguette, cheese, ham and chicken soup. 

The horses were tied to a long clothesline-ish rope and enjoyed their rest, with the occasional interruption of some local cows. They were driven away by Enrique and Oleg, his Ukrainian assistant. 

We then untied our horses, got on (did I mentioned they even carry a MOUNTING BLOCK?) and headed down what Maria Elena explained was an old merino-sheep herding road. Spain had a monopoly on merinos until the Brits butted into the act in, say, the 17th century, and sheep were driven all the way across the country, from south to north. An nearby stone ruin was a shearing shed.

We kept going up, through what looked like an olive orchard but probably wasn't, and then joined up with the San Juan de Compostelo pilgrimage trail. By this time we were in a national park, very well kept up. We had a long canter uphill, after which time the horses ceased being fresh, and then walked through a beautiful forest of tall red pines, the kind where the branches and needles are only on top. It was still that same kind of forest as we descended the other side of the mountain, going straight down but at a very controllable walk.

 We then entered  a town and, it being 3 p.m., tied the horses up and had lunch at a local restaurant. I had a white-bean stew appetizer that was absolutely delicious, and a so-so trout. Red wine, of course.

Happily, it was only 45 minutes to the end of ours days' riding, so we all managed to stay on, and then were driven from where we loaded the horses onto their truck to our hotel,  a former monastery right in Segovia. 

Sue, Joe, Nancy and I attempted to work up an appetite for dinner by walking from our hotel down the hill along the city's Roman aqueduct, then up many stairs to the old section of the city and the cathedral. 

(Note to readers: you will see a lot of photos of this indomitable trio on this blog)

Dinner, in my case an excellent salad and OK cod, was at the hotel.

Day Three - April 1

Maria Elena had said this was going to be our longest day -- 42 kilometers -- so it was with dismay that we saw it begin to rain just as we were getting ready to meet up with our horses in a nearby field. On went the rain pants, the oilcloth coats, the waterproof gloves, etc. But it proved to be just a light sprinkle. We were glad to have all our gear on, though -- a sharp wind was blowing as we set out, fortunately at our backs.   Adrian, feeling poorly after his fall the day before, stayed behind. We walked and cantered -- many canters -- through grassy open fields, with a little scrub and grass and not much vegetation otherwise. Because it was quite flat we could see for miles around, all plains (yes, in Spain) and very little sight of habitation.  

 The horses were a bit fresh at the beginning, though less so than the day before. They were even calm enough that I could take a short video. 

 It was as if the route had been made for horses; there was even a sandy/loam road on which we had some long canters. The mountains were on our right as we headed north. 

We had another lovely snack and headed off on a narrow dirt road through those trees that look like olive orchards but aren't. Maria Elena explained that they are holm oaks, which produce a sweet acorn that is eaten by pigs that are then turned into Iberian ham, that soft thin-cut ham that is so yummy. We climbed through the orchard and came out on top of a line of hills that afforded us a view of ALL the surrounding countryside, from the snow-capped mountains on our right to the grassy plains below to some low white cliffs dead ahead. Did I mentioned it had long ago stopped raining? 

Another long canter on top of the hills, then down to a small church behind which a table had been set up under a canopy. We got the horses set for lunch, each with his own bucket at his position along a tie line, then sat down for a lunch prepared by Lucia, wife of Oleg (pictured on the right)

Oleg is always there when we leave and arrive, adjusting equipment, doing girths, leading horses to the mounting block and otherwise making us feel spoiled. Speaking of which, lunch was five courses -- seafood soup, pasta with tuna, fish with vegetables, or chicken and salad, strawberries and homemade pastries. Seriously. And wine, bien sur.

Fortunately, it was only an hour's walk to Pedraza, the hilltop town where we stayed overnight. It was the capital of a feudal fiefdom back in the day, Maria Elena said. Now, only 105 people live there, according to the local pharmacist, but there are also plenty of nice limestone second homes, with the terra cotta tile roofs, of course.

 We all had drinks in a local pub (photo by Adrian)

and then a nice dinner at the hotel.

Day Four -- April 2

Another day of lucking out on the weather. The forecast was for a 70% chance of rain, but we got the 30%. Still, we donned rain gear just in case and good thing, since it turned out to be quite windy at times. We met Oleg and the truck with the horses just outside of town and were off. We were heading north and the landscape became more verdant. We went through fields covered with green grass, walking and cantering on the same amazing sandy roads that have carried us each day. As before, most were on the ridges of hills, exposing us to some amazing views of the fields all around us, lit in patches of light and gray as the sun either shone directly or was filtered through clouds.

As always, there was nary a person, not even in the small towns we went through. 

This part of Spain is incredibly sparsely populated -- no farmers working the fields, no livestock in pens clearly designed for animals, no sign of life in the shuttered (but kept up and clean) houses in towns. Maria Elena says the houses are used mostly on weekends, and as for the rest, well, this is a country with a shrinking population.

After winding our way through another holm oak orchard we stopped for our aperitivo, at 12:30. Note the Spanish omelet, made this day and every day by Lucia. In the urns are hot coffee and hot chicken soup. 

And we were done riding for the day -- Maria Elena always gives her riders a half day at some point during the week and this one proved to be opportune.  After checking in at our hotel in Setulveda (a feudal village so named because it changed hands between the Moors and the Spaniards seven times) Enrique drove us through sparse, deserty fields into a national park. (To liven up the drive, he played a music compilation that included "Blue Suede Shoes," "Walk the Line" and "Hound Dog." The van was rocking!) We parked at a barrier and walked down a dirt road to one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. 

The Rio Duraton had created a series of serpentine limestone gorges that were really spectacular. We looked down maybe 400 feet below to the water and across could see the layered cliffs,some cut deeper than others depending on the type of  sediment.

At the end of the promontory stood the ruins of a monastery that had first been built in the 700s, then enlarged around 1100. It was made from the same limestone as the cliffs and seemed one with them. There was a chapel, several outer walls and a tiny cemetery, all on rocky ground that was slippery with age. We stood in silence for a while and could hear birds singing on the other side of the gorge. Vultures glided overhead. It was an amazing moment.

It was nice spending time with Maria Elena and Enrique as well, rather than just exchanging sentences on horseback.

Then it was back to the hotel in fervent hopes that our walk had made room for dinner. I forgot to mention that lunch, also in Septulvedo, had been the most amazing roast lamb any of us had tasted.  Even after Joe and I had no more room for meat, we were soaking bits of bread in the fatty juices and scarfing them down just to get a little more of the taste.

At dinner, Maria Elena talked about how she had founded the business -- now almost 20 years old! -- and reminded us that she'd leave us in the morning for other business she had to attend to. We'd be joined on the rest of the ride by young Enrique. 

Day Five - April 3

The weather was, as always, better than expected. That was the only luck that two of our number had. But first, we saddled up, said goodbye to Maria Elena and walked over to a nearby castle. Though it was for sale, no one was interested in putting in a bid. We did take a group photo.

From left to right: me, Judy, Ben, young Enrique, Sue, Joe, Nancy and Adrian.

Then we followed a pretty path by a stream. Enrique the elder was in the lead and Enrique the younger brought up the rear. When we hit our first trot, though, we heard a cry from behind and stopped. Adrian's horse had stepped in a hole -- it appeared to have opened up AFTER the  other riders went over -- and fallen to its knees. Adrian came off, his second fall of the week. He rather understandably announced that he would quit riding for a while. He said he'd go on to the next stop, however.

We continued along the path by the stream, beautiful limestone cliffs on our left side with cave-holes sprinkled along them -- nests for vultures, which we saw circling overhead -- and picked up up our first canter. Just a few paces in, Judy's horse shied when a duck flew up from the stream and came off. So that was two. She also got back on in order to continue to the snack site, and trotted and cantered with the group.

We passed by some more of those small green fields and Enrique Junior explained that they used to be cultivated either for agriculture or livestock but now so few people want to be farmers that they are simply deserted.

Then we stopped for our aperativo and made arrangements to go off without our two riders. The horses went off in the big truck to await the end of the day for the others, and Adrian and Judy we taken in the van to the hotel by Oleg. Ben went with them. Ibero, who has been behaving beautifully for the entire trip -- a little fresh but very willing to listen and obey -- posed for a photo. I very much enjoyed that seat pad all week. 

The remaining riders walked up a small slope, came to one of those hard, sandy roads and took off at a fast canter. The weather was still  clear and the terrain just right; the horses seemed to relish the chance to stretch a bit. Especially the one young Enrique was riding, whose favorite gait appeared to be vertical. We also cantered across green, muddy fields and at one point on a sandy road had something of a race. Joe was the happy winner, though he swore he had asked Enrique's permission to go ahead.  

After an exhilarating couple of hours, we arrived at the drop-off point ahead of schedule and left the horses for the day. Enrique Senior drove us to Pradena, a tiny town where we would stay for the night. Lunch was another great picnic from Lucia right in the dining room of the tiny guest house.

After a shower, (we were quite muddy from all that galloping),

 we headed off in the van to the caves of los Enebralejos. Though none of us had heard of them, they proved to be quite astonishing. They were not nearly as old as the Lescaux caves in France, our guide explained. Those were from the beginning of the prehistoric period, about 10,000 years ago, while these were about 4,000 years old. As displays in the waiting area showed, the locals had pottery, copper, flint (for arrowheads), skins,  furs and even jewelry.






Some people were less enthusiastic about the historic display than others. 

The caves were a burial site. Not very deep and two kilometers long, they were the resting place for at least 80 skeletons, though Carlos, our guide, said there were doubtless many more. We walked through more than a dozen chambers, each featuring stalactites and stalagmites of incredible beauty. Though they were made of limestone only, the colors included green,  red and black because of infusions of copper, iron and coal, or something like that. (No photos allowed and no postcards for sale, a lost opportunity) 

Then it was back to our guest house for a nice, simple dinner.

Day Six - April 4

The morning began with a clue to how Spain managed its desertification. In the (tiny) main square outside our guest house before we left we saw a small open-air market set up.  

There were two produce sellers, one shoe stall and a guy selling clothes from his car. 

These folks apparently go around to a different village each day.

Judy and Adrian weren't riding but came with us as we picked up the horses. It was the coldest morning yet but, despite the rain forecast, no precipitation. We headed off behind Enrique Senior. This was our second day of heading south (see map) and  we were considerably east of the line we'd taken coming north. We were essentially traversing the mountains -- they are the  southern axe of France's Massif Central -- and had many great views of increasingly cultivated land and populated villages to our right. Lots of ups and downs. 

Many nice long canters and part way through the morning the sun came out. That is, not just shining through clouds or appearing in patches but true blue sky and blazing sun. 

By this time the horses were much calmer (except young Enrique's of course) and Enrique senior said we could ride in parallel rather than single file. We didn't get everyone lined up across but three or four people managed and Sue and I had a nice canter a deux.

Snack time was in a sheltered hollow, fortunately since it was still quite windy. We noted four vultures circling ahead but couldn't figure out which one of us they had come for.

The sun stayed out as we continued to follow the mountains to our lunch spot. It was at a local place with a fairly full house; nice to see some actual Spaniards enjoying village life. I had soup to start, then a stew, plus water, wine and tea, leading to one of the few on-trail relief stops on the afternoon leg. Sue, Nancy and Ben were all glad to join the trend and everyone successfully re-mounted sans block.

Overnight at a modern-but-rural hotel in the small town of Sotosalbos; my room window overlooked a pasture with cows. 

Day Seven - April 5

There is little way to describe the weather this morning except to say that our luck came to an end. It was definitely rainy though, to be fair, just misting, not pouring. Oleg met us with the truck near the hotel. I don't think I have fully described the magnitude of the truck operation. Normally on this ride the horses mostly stay in fields along the way. But because of the rain forecast, Maria Elena and Enrique Sr. decided to truck them back to the stable each night. The vehicle for this is an incredibly fancy custom job that Enrique Jr.  bought to transport his show horses. It can carry eight horses, lined up sideways, with movable panels in between. 

Each morning Oleg leads them down one by one and the rider mounts.

 In the afternoon, the process happens in reverse, except for my horse, who at the beginning was having none of that walking up the ramp. He loaded a lot better by the end of the week. The truck reportedly also has a bedroom, a toilet, a shower, a hot plate and, until the dish fell off along the road somewhere when Enrique was coming back from a show, satellite TV.

The countryside was getting greener and, with the rocks and the rain, felt rather like Ireland. We had some muddy canters. 

One big fail was of not getting a photo of my face before I washed off the traces of the mud clods that everyone in front threw up at me -- before snack time. The jacket tells the tale. 

Hardly believing this was our last segment, we mounted again to head to the stable. The horses knew they were headed home but we managed some really nice canters across fields filled with cows, without too many runaways. The landscape was much more settled now, with livestock and farmland all around us. Enrique seemed to know which gate to open and how, at one point cutting a rope that held one closed while trying vainly not to step in the large puddle of water that surrounded it.

Normally we would have forded a river near the stable to get back, but the waters were so high we took a long way around, circling around the village and walking alongside the racing waters (confirming the decision not to cross them) until we could take a small bridge near, of all things, a whisky distillery. 

Then it was back to Hipica Eresma, where we ushered our horses into their stalls for a well-deserved feed. The humans got one too, in the upstairs bar of the indoor ring. Enrique's staff laid on a really lovely lunch with many choices and much wine. We all got polo shirts and photos as a present. Then it was off to the fanciest hotel yet, the Parador on a bluff overlooking Segovia, where we enjoyed modern conveniences until it was time for a final dinner. Young Enrique and a friend of his from the riding school joined us. 

Our table looked out over a great view of the city, the cathedral towering over all. Hard to believe we'd all be leaving the next morning. Joe, Nancy, Sue and I had a final drink in the bar after dinner and talked about our next riding trip......