Vamos, Caballitos!

Having spent a largely sedentary week trying to get our Spanish up to scratch, we were pleased to get out of Santiago today and head for the hills. In such a narrow country, with hills and mountain ranges running along both sides, we didn't have far to travel. Forty-five minutes' drive east of Santiago, in the direction of the ski resorts, we were in the Chilean Andes. Having whetted our appetite for horse riding in New Zealand with a small trek, we decided today to attack a much longer and more technically challenging route through the cordillera.

Saddling up

Close to a tiny hamlet called La Ermita, we pulled off onto a dirt track. Here, a leathery-faced man had rounded up several of his caballos (horses) that seem to live freely in the mountains. Already saddled, our driver and guide loaded the mule with lunch, including the ubiquitous and most important feature: a pair of bottles of wine.

Wine mule

The reins were Chilean style - meaning both were held in the right hand, while the left was free to use the attached riding crop. "Are you scary?", asked our guide. I presume by this that he meant 'are you easily scared?' "You must not scream," he said, "it will scare the horses". What would give us cause to scream, I wondered.

We began our journey simply enough, heading out of the hacienda and along a wide dirt path.

No hay baños

We followed the Río Mapocho along a relatively flat path through the trees and vegetation that flourish near the water. Having broken out of the cover, we discovered we were riding directly into the rising sun, which even at this early hour was intense. After a little while, our guide pointed up the dry, rocky slope of the mountain and announced, "Now we will climb this". We laughed, not seeing any obvious path. However, he was serious and his horse confidently scaled the mountain, while ours followed behind. The 'route', such as it was, ascended a sheer slope, covered in loose rubble and dirt. The horses' hooves dug in to the earth and danced nimbly along the narrowest of paths hewn into the side of the mountain. One false step by our mounts would have spelled a rather nasty tumble of both horse and rider back into the valley below. Our journey was accompanied by the sound of sliding hooves and the splintering noise of rock on rock.

The 'path'

Part way up the hill, our guide was concerned that the convoy wasn't tight enough. The horses have to follow nose to tail, so that they take exactly the same path. Wandering off could spell disaster. "It is very important to manage your horse…" he commanded. However, I had spared the crop on my horse, feeling sorry that it had to lug my weight uphill at all, let alone at any great speed. The result was that a large gap had opened up between me and the rider in front. Our guide switched places with the horse wrangler and drove us all from the rear, yelling "Vamos, vamos, caballitos! Yee-haw!"

By the top of the hill, the horses were panting and their fur was matted with sweat, despite a break part way up.

Well-earned rest

They rested as we took an extended Chilean lunch at the side of one of the tributaries to Río Mapocho. Lunch was a typical asado chileno (barbecue) with plenty of carne for the meat-eaters, and some grilled vegetables with bread, rice and corn, and (naturally) avocados for the vegetarians, as well as potatoes baked directly on the hot coals. Good Chilean Carmenere flowed generously, which is a well-received staple of every meal here.

Upstream of the tributary, a little waterfall spilled out into a pool of cooling water, which I can imagine is bliss in the oppressive summer heat.

Return leg

Our route back took us via the Ruta del Cóndor, but we had already seen three of the birds circling high in the sky on the way out. The view gave onto the neighbouring peaks, which are home to the ski resorts of Farellones and El Colorado.

Misty mountains

Slipping and sliding our way back, taking shortcuts across the sinuous path favoured by mountain bikers, we eventually came upon some real cowboys, wrangling the cattle from horseback with much yelling and screaming.

Dusty and tired, we arrived back at the 'ranch'. The horses relieved themselves furiously onto the, until then, dry ground and took a well-deserved break. We were taken home by mechanical horse and collapsed into bed.