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.