IN THE SADDLE
(RoughNews No.21, U.K. 2005)
Andrew Benson decides that four legs are better than two
when exploring Chile´s breathtaking Hurtado valley.
 Chile is the kind of country where every mode of transport
is possible - and sometimes necessary. On my recent research
trips I was as ever impressed and depressed by the country´s
long-distance buses. Impressed by their comfort and reliability,
depressed by the appallingly violent videos everyone sits
glued to, from tiny tots to venerable grannies with bags
of potatoes. The national airline puts most others to shame,
with beautiful planes that makes you feel as if you are the
first passenger,
delicious food and unrivalled
punctuality.
I also observed a gigantic
glacier and sailed between
icebergs in a Zodiac dinghy, flew over the desolate Tierra
del Fuego archipelago in a midget
Twin Otter, was driven across
bright salt flats in a jeep and went up and down steep
hillsides at Valparaiso in an
ancient funicular.
White-water rafting, skiing,
hanggliding and surfing are
all on offer. But never was
I prouder of myself than when I went horse riding in the
Hurtado
valley, some 400km north of
the capital, Santiago.
I was staying
at one of Chile´s
most idyllic spots, the Mexican
style Hacienda Los Andes, run by a slightly crazy
Berliner with the unlikely
but somehow appropriate name
of Clark Stede and his quietspoken partner, with the apt
name
of Manuela Paradeiser. They
built, decorated and now run
the place themselves, with the help of a couple of friendly
locals, so the result is an
unbeatable combination of Germanic
discipline and precision,
and genuine Chilean hospitality.
The hacienda is painted bright
reds and yellows, in vivid contrast with the arid ochre
mountains above and the cool
green of the fertile valley
below, but it all fits in. While veal an calamari kebabs
grilled on a barbecue, pisco
sours mellowed our mood, the
sun slipped behind a forest
of cacti and a flock of squawking parrots flew overhead
as a
further reminder of the day´s
end.
Next day
at dawn, as the crinkly mountains glowed a rich tangerine
in the early sunlight, preparations
for our trek began, with that
Teutonic exactitude I had come
to expect. The hacienda´s stables are out
of odour´s reach of the bedrooms but near enough so
you don´t have to walk far before mounting. The horses
themselves display the loving
care they receive in every
step they take; they are quiet, responsive and contented,
which I , as an inexperienced
rider, found immensely reassuring.
We put them - or rather me – through the motions and
we were off, followed by a pair of equally obedient German
shepherd
dogs. Apart from Clark I was
accompanied by two other guests, a couple of young advertising
executives from Leipzig whose
love of horses had taken them
galloping across the Hungarian puzsta the previous summer.
I could tell they were a bit
frustrated by the slow pace
we were to adopt. I, on the other hand, was delighted.
The laid-back
speed was enforced by two things: the dry heat
of the day in this semi-desert,
where the only vegetation,
and therefore shade, is the
odd cactus and, even rarer,
a spindly tree. Water was
scarce and whenever we came across some
the horses became very excited,
as did the dogs. We, of course,
carried plentiful supplies
in our beautiful brightly coloured
saddle-bags, which were also
stocked with locally made goat´s cheese, home-baked
bread, and sun-blessed fruit
from the orchards in the oasis
at Hurtado. The other factor
was the steepness of the narrow winding paths we
took up and down mountainsides.
We had to stay close together
so the horses could follow
each other. Clark, on his steed,
led the way, and reprimanded
us if we left the smallest gap between us. The most challenging
parts were some alarmingly
precipitous descents, with
only fierce-looking cacti to
cushion our fall into a deep
ravine;
and one stretch of the trail
so unsafe we had to dismount
and lead our horses down the
rough-hewn steps,
their hoofs sending stones
flying noisily in every direction.
It was worth it, though: easily
the best way to see some of
northern Chile´s most heart-stopping landscapes,
plus curiosities on the way
such as mysterious pre-Hispanic rock paintings. And thanks
to the hacienda´s specially
crafted saddles nobody was
too sore to enjoy sitting down that evening as fish sizzled
on the barbecue, pisco sours
were sipped and a flock of
parrots flew overhead.
Andrew Benson updated the second edition of the Rough Guide
to Chile, publishing in April 2005
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