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.