After a pleasantly late breakfast, we were picked up and reunited with the horses in their pasture. From there, we went down the slope and then up the other side to wildish flatlands. There was brume everywhere, some of it blooming in yellow, others already green. Snowy mountains peaks loomed in the distance. We had a couple of nice long canters, then came to what looked like a slightly algae-covered lake. Maria Elena walked her horse right into it, and the rest of us followed.

We went all the way across, the horses splashing knee-deep, the mountains ahead of us.We also had a nice photo session on the other side.

Then we walked across similar land, including a part burned out by a planned fire, and saw a white tent in the distance. It was lunch and aperitivo rolled into one. And not just any lunch. This was made by a young chef who had worked in a restaurant and Madrid and then come back home to open his own place here. It was an incredible  five-course meal – creamy cold soupish something with tomato and fruit, chicken salad on a toast with tomato, sardine on bread, pork cheeks that were incredibly soft and a dessert of some kind. 

We took a group photo

And then many naps followed. 

I took a walk on a dirt road that circled around our lunch place, with an amazing 360-degree view. The last leg was through a village, up the valley, around some dirt roads and then one more canter and voila, we were there. The horses were happy to be showered and fed, the dogs were just happy to be fed, with lunch leftovers Louise had brought for them. 

We said goodbye to the horses as they made their last dash to the field, then were driven back to the hotel to nap, pack and try to figure out how we could possibly eat dinner. We managed. 

Can it really be Friday?

We were saddled and away from our guesthouse shortly after 9:30 and made our way across the wide valley of the Corneja River. Lots of storks feeding in the fields. Maria Elena said this was the only land in Gredos that was suitable for farming. 

We had a couple of really long trots on the straight, sandy roads, the horses more relaxed and containable than they had been earlier in the week. During a short canter, I was right behind Maria Elena, which was nice since hers was the only horse mine wasn’t interested in passing.

Aperitivo was in a pleasant clearing on the side of a dirt road. The table was the prettiest yet.

Things started to get really interesting after that. We climbed up into the foothills of the mountains. Some of the towns we went through were the usual deserted not-that-attractive type but others were either relatively populated or, in one case, built around a very old mill.












 After some wending through narrow paths with bushes on each side and mud under the horses’ feet, we crossed a river and came to another mill – with the lunch table laid out in an open space. And then there was the catering truck…..

After a lunch of salad, thick creamy gazpacho and Spanish omelet, and the usual two wines, we climbed back on and headed straight up, almost. The horses twisted back and forth among the boulders on one of the narrowest trails I have ever seen, with bushes included stickers on either side. At some points there were sharp drop offs on the right as well. They were really working hard.

Then we emerged and were really in the mountains. No trees, though lots of shrubbery, and beautiful views across the valleys to the slopes on the other side. It was very green I the sunshine, even though still somewhat rocky. It looked and sounded a lot like Switzerland, right down to the chiming of the cowbells and the – I am not making this up – song of the cuckoo bird.



At one point, as we climbed, we could look back through the pass and see the flat land we had come to that morning.

Then we got to the very top. Below us was a long fertile-looking valley and behind it was a line of foothills – one foothill, really – whose lip paralleled the valley. And behind THAT were the snowy peaks of the highest mountains.

We picked our way down the other side, very slowly. The horses were stabled in a pasture at the foot of the slope and we were transported to a simple local hotel by car. Simple meal, too.

We were in the saddle and underway by 9:35, only five minutes behind schedule. We headed down (up?) the valley. The land flattened out and got rockier, quite amazing, really. It reminded me of Iceland or Norway or something, so many boulders on the ground, cropping up out of the earth. The going was consequently a little uneven so we only walked in the morning. 

We must have gone through at least five more or less deserted towns, each with well-kept boarded-up houses, a stork nest replete with parent and baby storks, a church (sometimes under the nest, sometimes not) and complete silence as the hoofs echoed through the well-paved streets.

Aperitivo was in one such town, slightly more populated than the others. The girls had laid out a lovely table in a church parking lot, I think it was, and Joe and I posed for a photo to send to Philippe and Anne Tirel, whom we had gotten to know on the Andalusia ride.

The sandy road was more even in the next stage and we had some nice canters at good speed. In another town, as we went past a 15^th-century fortress, we turned right onto a bridge of equal age and Maria Elena said this was the farthest point we would be from home. We were now heading east after traversing Avila in westerly and northerly directions. We were also in another province, Salanca.

Lunch was unbelievable. The girls had set up a beautifully laid table in a cleared area in a kind of forest but arid, and some of us helped set up a tent over it. Under which we had what was supposed to be a picnic but turned out to be an elegant meal prepared by a restaurant in one of the more-populated tows we had passed. Tuna, tomato and potato salad for appetizer; ratatouille, fries and rabbit for main course. I am not making this up. The rabbit was prepared with garlic and spices and was delicious.

After lunch, Louise and some of the others walked down to the river and swam in the clear, chilly water, though it was so shallow she said it was more like walking on your hands.

Then it was back on the horses for a 90-minute ride to Hoyorendondo. We entered what seemed like a very large park, also arid, and walked for about 10 minutes until we got to the stone guesthouse. The horse shower-and-feed ritual was in the back garden, where we immediately sat down at some café tables and had gin and tonics.

 Dinner was salmon, duck or pork, served by the owner-family, who no doubt were the chefs as well. Louise said she thought it was the nicest hotel so far and I agree. 

An early start by our standards, in the saddle at 9:30. We didn’t quite make it but close, after a quick photo session. We set off on what Maria Elena explained was an old road – because Spain’s dictatorship only ended 60 years ago, the state of development was very poor until then – that had carried traffic through the valley for centuries. Kings, merchants, peasants. It wasn’t preserved everywhere but in many places we could see its remains.

We walked all morning, the road was too narrow and rocky for any trots or canters. But we were able to enjoy the views on all sides. When I say rocky mountains, they aren’t really either rocky or mountains. There are plenty of crags but also lots of lush vegetation. We seemed to alternate between deciduous zones and evergreen zones, but we always had the mountains – hills, really, we were at about 1200 meters, Maria Elena said – in the backdrop. The scene was rather hobbitish, Louise agreed, especially since the occasional clouds added a blue cast to the hills.

It was going to be a half-day, though we covered a lot of territory. Aperitivo wasn’t until 12:30 or so, so we tucked into the fruit, cheese, ham, dry bread, beer and sherry even more eagerly than usual. Some of us  worked a little off by getting off and walking, leading the horses, for a while, it felt excellent. 

Only about 90 minutes’ ride to the extremely luxurious Izan hotel, set just outside El Barco de Avila, one of the oldest settlements on the northern side of the Gredos.

After their shower, we led the horses into their pasture for the night. “Get out your cameras,” Maria Elena said, then told us to take off their halters. Sure enough, every single one of them dropped to a roll.

 Louise and I couldn’t help but follow suit, which pleased the local paparazzi.

Then, after a long liquid outdoor lunch, Louise and I opted to skip the evening town visit, even though it included a store selling, we were told, excellent Spanish wine at bargain prices. In fact, the attendees returned full of wine and food and announced they were skipping dinner. So Louise, I, Peter, John, Joe, his son Paul and three of the staff – Veronica, Marta and Irenee – had a pleasant light meal.

Maria Elena and the crew picked us up a little after 10, luggage and all. We were going to be moving on. It took very little time to get started walking up the dirt roads, through piney forests but also past some spectacular views of fields, gorges, valleys and the surrounding Rocky Mountains. I got a chance to ride next to Maria Elena for a while and we chatted about Churchill, France and various books. The horses all seemed settled into their jobs, plenty of energy for canters but well-behaved.

Aperitivo was at a stone fisherman’s hut along the Torres River, wider at this point. Even the table the refreshments were laid out on – on a white tablecloth, of course – was made of stone. Marta and Veronica, two of the staff members, held all 13 horses while we ate and drank. There was a place where we could swim, apparently, though no one did.  Great view up and down the valley.

Lunch was at another of those restaurants that looks like a shack. Well, a stone shack, perched on a hillside that we had gotten to by crossing a 14^th-century stone bridge that in its day had served as a passage for cattle.. This was the second resto that is usually open only on the weekend but opened especially for us. Good salads and lamb chops. 

Maria Elena told the history of Gredos at some length and we each shared highlights of previous high-drama rides. This one is going so well I can’t imagine there will be any other such highlights.

Call for departure wasn’t until 10 and we were staying at the Parador again tonight so plenty of time to get going this morning. Maria Elena’s stable is just 5 minutes drive away so we quickly met our mounts. Mine was an Arab-Andalusian (a cross so popular it’s its own breed) named Africa. Louise had a slightly larger model, also white, named Peruvio. We mounted in the ring and it quickly became clear that everyone in the group was a competent and comfortable rider, a real relief after some of the excursions I’ve been on.

We set off past green pastures that had cows, horses and sheep all in the same place – the result, Maria Elena said, of a longstanding policy of common land in this part of Spain. There were some private parcels, delineated by carefully constructed rock walls, like in Ireland. After going through the village if Navarredonda Gredos, population 522, we crossed into some forested terrain. Then we came out to some rocky, gorsy expanses with really nice views of the mountains on our left and the rolling valley on our right. Very few trees. We had our first trot at about this time, with the horses all nicely under control. 

At about 1 we stopped for – you guessed it – the aperitivo. To be honest, the beer and ham tasted excellent.

Then it was back on for another 90 or so minutes, including a few canters. No adventures there either. Maria Elena had told us at dinner that her horses were fit and happy, and they showed it. Sure, some of them wanted to run on, but they weren’t jerks about it and all went well.

The terrain became greener and forested; we walked across a brilliant green field – spring grass – surrounded by tall pine trees and Joe allowed as where this is where he would like to build his house. We’d also crossed some clear streams and small rivers. Maria Elena said the mountain water was what fed the houses of the village and that it was free, except you paid a tax for it.

At lunch, we took the bridles off the horses and loosened their girths, which we hadn’t before, and tied them to trees in a shady place by a stream. Just up the hill was what looked like a shack but turned out to be a restaurant that provided fantastic paella. We were outside at a long table, beginning of course with a nice cold beer (I skipped that one) and a first course of egg tortillas that were far superior to what the hotel had served that morning. I had white wine with that, then switched to red for the paella. Chicken, shrimp, mussels and a few other things in an incredibly rich rice. From a local chef.

Over lunch we spoke in English, Spanish, French and German. We are a great mix. One of the Spanish girls who works for Maria Elena speaks French but not English, so Louise and I could talk to her. A man who works for her and sat next to me at lunch only spoke Spanish,  but Roger and Jutta, the Germans, spoke Spanish and were, happily, sitting across from us. Pilar, who lives in Vermont but has a Cuban father, speaks some Spanish. And so on.

Maria Elena allowed us a little rest and then it was back in the saddle for an hour’s ride home. After we got the horses untacked and hosed down, we went outside the farm gates and Maria Elena walked down the road and unlocked the gate to the pasture the horses would go into. The riders fanned out to  make sure the horses didn’t go in the wrong direction but there was no danger of that: On Maria Elena’s signal, the staff back at the barn let the horses out of the stalls where they had been fed. Down the drive they charged, then spun left and headed straight for the pasture. It was really fun to watch 

Dinner, sans Maria Elena, was in the hotel dining room. We all took it pretty easy .The trip is yet young.

No horses today, just travel. Louise texted me just before 6:30 a.m. to say she was already at the gate in Berlin. I left for Charles de Gaulle shortly after that. We met up at Terminal 4 of the Madrid airport, the pickup point for the group, and enjoy greasy sandwiches and beers while we spent a nice couple of hours chatting.

We easily recognized the other riders by the size of their luggage. There were two Germans, two Brits (both couples), two Australian women, two American women, and two other people, including my friend Joe, who had gone ahead earlier.

The taxi driver spoke French to me, I guess Maria Elena told him I spoke it, so we got the group out of the airport and into two taxis. After about an hour of driving we stopped in Avila, a very lovely and very old city in the mountains west of Madrid. Louise and I visited the cathedral, which was so old (13^th century) most of it wasn’t even Gothic. It had a beautifully carved altarpiece, I guess you call it, on one end of the wooden choir structure. 

But that broke up the magnificent sweep of the church from entrance to the rear. Still, the proportions were beautiful, very tall and a fairly narrow central nave. The arched ceilings were in some kind of local stone that they called bloodstone and were indeed red and white.

Then it was on through more rocky-mountainous roads to the Paradores, that Spanish hotel chain that is owned by the government. This particular one, the first ever, had been the king’s hunting lodge way back when; lots of oaken beams across the ceiling, Maria Elena gave us a tour.

There’s a great view looking across the valley out the back side, where we had dinner of venison, in Louise’s case, and steak in mine. Plus appetizers of, of course, that yummy Spanish ham.