Of Tupiza, our first stop in southern Bolivia, the Lonely Planet says
If there's every a place where you want to throw your leg over a horse, brandish spurs and say 'ride 'em cowboy' then this is it.
Well what could we do. With the bruises from our last cowboy escapade still fading we set off for a two day ride on Espiri (feisty Argentine stallion) Urrocan (speedy Bolivian pony) with our guide Jose. The ride was an extravaganza of red rock formations, cacti, blue skies and dust. The horses were more than willing to kick off for a gallop at every opportunity and we raced through deserted villages of adobe houses, where the only sign of life was a few sleepy donkeys or a small child peaking from a doorway as we galloped by.
With rivers swollen from recent rains we forded many rivers, up to our thighs in the swirling red water as the horses pushed against the strong currents. It was the stuff that cowgirl dreams are made of.
After six hours in the saddle we arrived at a sprawling village of mud huts, set the horses free in a small corral next to one of the houses and set down our packs in a basic room thick with flies and heavy with grime. There were six single beds to choose from in varying states of decay with dirty blankets and straw mattresses. We shared a bottle of water and watched the sun set while the mosquitos feasted on every available portion of tasty gringo flesh. Thankfully, despite the flies and the grime, we slept reasonably well.
The next morning we returned via a different route, following the red river through fields of pampas glowing in the morning sun. There were more rivers to cross and more villages to gallop through. Eventually we arrived at our lunch stop where two large groups of Bolivians were picknicking. Our guide, so careful until now, decided to kick his horse off into a gallop without warning us and we followed suit, unprepared but up for it. As we raced through the groups of Bolivians three cocker spaniels ran out barking under Espiri's feet and as he swerved to avoid them I was jerked out of the saddle and dragged for a few feet along the rocks with one foot in the stirrup. I opened my eyes to find a group of Bolivian revellers surrounding me and my very shame faced guide peering down. Thankfully my injuries were nothing serious, a cut on my hand and some scrapes and bruises down my back and arms. All there was to do was get back on the horse and gallop a bit more on the way home to overcome the fear before it took hold.
We returned to Tupiza without any more drama, the only event of note was Urrocan's shoe fallling off which we managed to fix with my trusty Leatherman Tool (thanks BAA!).
At the end of the day we returned, walking like John Wayne, for a welcome shower, and in my case a bit of first aid and some fun and games picking gravel out of my back. A real cowboy adventure.
If there's every a place where you want to throw your leg over a horse, brandish spurs and say 'ride 'em cowboy' then this is it.
Well what could we do. With the bruises from our last cowboy escapade still fading we set off for a two day ride on Espiri (feisty Argentine stallion) Urrocan (speedy Bolivian pony) with our guide Jose. The ride was an extravaganza of red rock formations, cacti, blue skies and dust. The horses were more than willing to kick off for a gallop at every opportunity and we raced through deserted villages of adobe houses, where the only sign of life was a few sleepy donkeys or a small child peaking from a doorway as we galloped by.
With rivers swollen from recent rains we forded many rivers, up to our thighs in the swirling red water as the horses pushed against the strong currents. It was the stuff that cowgirl dreams are made of.
After six hours in the saddle we arrived at a sprawling village of mud huts, set the horses free in a small corral next to one of the houses and set down our packs in a basic room thick with flies and heavy with grime. There were six single beds to choose from in varying states of decay with dirty blankets and straw mattresses. We shared a bottle of water and watched the sun set while the mosquitos feasted on every available portion of tasty gringo flesh. Thankfully, despite the flies and the grime, we slept reasonably well.
The next morning we returned via a different route, following the red river through fields of pampas glowing in the morning sun. There were more rivers to cross and more villages to gallop through. Eventually we arrived at our lunch stop where two large groups of Bolivians were picknicking. Our guide, so careful until now, decided to kick his horse off into a gallop without warning us and we followed suit, unprepared but up for it. As we raced through the groups of Bolivians three cocker spaniels ran out barking under Espiri's feet and as he swerved to avoid them I was jerked out of the saddle and dragged for a few feet along the rocks with one foot in the stirrup. I opened my eyes to find a group of Bolivian revellers surrounding me and my very shame faced guide peering down. Thankfully my injuries were nothing serious, a cut on my hand and some scrapes and bruises down my back and arms. All there was to do was get back on the horse and gallop a bit more on the way home to overcome the fear before it took hold.
We returned to Tupiza without any more drama, the only event of note was Urrocan's shoe fallling off which we managed to fix with my trusty Leatherman Tool (thanks BAA!).
At the end of the day we returned, walking like John Wayne, for a welcome shower, and in my case a bit of first aid and some fun and games picking gravel out of my back. A real cowboy adventure.
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