Text and photos
© Michael Mogensen
All rights reserved

The author is a freelance writer and photographer. He has worked, travelled and lived all over the world and is a member of several photographic agencies. He has sold articles and photos to a wide range of magazines, newspaper and books.

For the last 15 years he has taken up western riding, and today rides Criollo horses in Denmark. In January 2003 he will be guide for a group of people going on a riding trip to Argentina.

For more information, visit tayacan.dk

Wild untamed nature and the authentic Argentine cowboy lifestyle are among the unforgettable experiences on a six-day riding trip in The Andes mountains.

By Michael Mogensen - Photo Gallery [1][2]

30 Criollo horses in many different colours have already been driven in to the small corral. It is six o'clock in the morning, and a magnificent sunrise is emerging behind the dark contours of the Andes. The 60-year-old gaucho Juan possesses the necessary knowledge of the estancia - ranch - where 1000 heads of Angus cattle roam the 13.000 hectares of land. Juan is sitting erect in the saddle on his muscular golden coloured Criollo horse, his weather-beaten face looking calmly ahead. Together with 3 young helpers he starts to round up the horses needed for the trip.

We are in the Argentine region of Neuquen, where we are going on a 6-day riding trip. We will be sleeping in the open, under the same conditions that the Argentine cowboy - gaucho - has worked and ridden for centuries. The estancia belongs to two young brothers - Martin and Fernando - who are riding with us on the trip. Together with their brothers and sisters, they have inherited the estancia from their parents. 14 of us are leaving, including Juan, a group of the young brothers' fellow students, a sixty year old German lady, and myself (57 years old).

The horses are full of energy when driven into the corral - they instinctively know it is time to work. Not all the horses let themselves been caught easily. The corral is shrouded in dust from galloping hooves, as some of the horses escape into the remotest corner. Eventually they give in or are caught by lasso.

When the horses are taken out to be saddled, they are all totally calm. A traditional gaucho saddle - recado - consists of several layers of saddle cloths and sheepskin. During the day it is like a very comfortable chair and during the night the different layers are used underneath the sleeping bag.

The Andes mountains loom like impressive scenery on the horizon, when we ride out together with two packhorses carrying the provision for the trip. We are surrounded by wide open spaces, snow-covered mountains, gorges and roaring rivers and green pastures. No motorways, railroads or power lines - just silence.

The Criollo horses are easy and comfortable to ride. Trained to endure long working hours with few breaks under severe conditions, they are calm and strong. We are soon acclimatising ourselves to the new rhythm, the dust from 15 horses and the rising temperature. After 3 hours' ride we leave the flat lowland and start moving into the mountains. We stop for lunch and one of the trips' regular rituals: to camp.

There are 3 important demands for a good campsite. There must be water, shade for the riders and pasture for the horses. We also try to pick a beautiful spot with shelter from the wind, that often can be strong in the open spaces of the mountains. We unsaddle the horses and tie them to a tree or bush, where they can graze. Within 10 minutes a fire is going and soon the water is boiling in a kettle. It is time for another ritual - mate - a kind of bitter but very refreshing tea. Served in a leather-covered mug made of calabash, it is handed from person to person while being refilled with hot water. We suck up the mate through a beautiful decorated drinking "straw" made of silver.

We all seek the shade and wash off the dust in the small river next to the campsite. It is into the same river that we and the horses can dip our heads and drink the coolest and purest mountain water.

After lunch we continue, and the riding tracks get more and more stony. Often we cross the same river several times. The horses walk over the slippery stones in the river with incredible skill.

We are now riding along a gorge with a large roaring river. There is a rich animal life everywhere. Some fat wild goose is walking around grazing, and a lot of other birds enjoy life in the thick scrub. A lot of birds of prey hover above us, and once in a while we see an armadillo. Whenever we leave the track we must watch out that the horses don't stumble in the many holes dug by the wild hares that are everywhere.

Where the pasture is lush with easy access to water, we run into herds of Angus cattle. Every time we pass the cattle our horses get excited. They seem to remember the routine of the cattle gathering, where the cattle is driven down to the estancia from the pastures. The Criollo horses have a lot of cow sense, and they are a necessity in the mountains, where no 4-wheel drive can enter.

This evening we camp next to a large river with a beautiful waterfall. Juan has taken a short cut to the camp, and has already started preparing dinner. We are surprised to see that he has already slaughtered a calf, and is now cutting out the meat. Tonight we will have soup prepared by the odd pieces of meat, while the best meat will hang till tomorrow, when he will prepare a typical asado - the local style barbecue where meat is spitted on a cross like spear and roasted on the open fire.

After dinner we all gather around the fire, the mate is passed around and the guitar suddenly appears. The temperature has fallen to 8 degrees centigrade, and most of us have put on a warm sweater or covered ourselves with our sleeping bag. Now the beautiful night is filled with sad songs about lost love, the nostalgic memories of life on the pampa, when men were real men.

Later on we all place our sleeping bag directly on the saddle underlays, and slowly peace falls upon the camp, only broken by the soft sound of grazing horses. The constant glitter of the stars lights up the impressive space above us, only disturbed by the many falling stars. Once in a while a satellite slowly moves over the sky, making one wonder if they are taking pictures of our idyllic camp.

Next morning the sun rises slowly and the horses start calling each other. Our faithful follower - the dog El Negro - barks every time it sees a wild hare. The coffee is getting ready and soon we are riding out to spend the day at a large and famous waterfall - Cascada del Rio Agrio.

The trip is a real test for the horses. The track is full of rocks, and not very passable. We go slowly all the time, but the horses don't seem to mind the challenging track. Many of them get small cuts on the their feet, but Martin, who is studying to become a veterinarian, checks that nothing is serious. He even replaces a lost horseshoe.

The waterfall is worth the whole trip. With a drop of over 50 meters and a snow covered volcano in the background, it is an impressive sight. Most of us undress and jump in to the river which comes from one of the volcanoes, and thus smells of sulphur. We can drink it, but the taste is very special. Not far away form the fall there is another river, where we ride over with our fishing rods. It is a place where very few people ever come, and the river is full of trout, eager to bite. Within 10 minutes we have caught 15 small trout. We put them on a string and bring them back for dinner.

We have just passed over a large mountain crest. On the other side we are suddenly presented with an enormous valley. There are herds of Angus cattle everywhere, mixing with herds of Criollo horses. The horses are not wild, but they have spent several months here on the pastures, that their natural instincts are strong. Several times we are approached by a galloping stallion and leader of a herd. Keeping a small distance it circles around us to see if it can steal a beautiful mare for the herd. But soon it gives up and gallop back.

Out here on the plains we get a chance to both trot and gallop. The horses are tireless - one hour trot doesn't even bring on a sweat.

We have now been riding for 4 days. Martin and Fernando tell us that we are close to the Chilean border. There are more snow-covered mountains on the horizon. We have been drinking mate, coffee and water for the whole trip. But tonight, after making camp, we take a one-hour ride up to a small tienda - a grocery shop - where we can get wine and beer.

Spirits are high when the magnificent 7 ride out at full gallop, aiming for a small setting of large trees up the mountain slope ahead of us. Without saddlebags and sleeping bag it is much more convenient to gallop. The mere thought of a cold beer keeps us going.

After having crossed a few rivers we arrive at the small place, surrounded by a few hundred grazing sheep. A couple of gauchos come out to greet us. But the bad news is that the owner has been ill for some time, so the shop hasn't got any supplies. It is a crestfallen and not very magnificent group that returns to the camp, and it takes some hours before the thought of cold beers disappear like a fatamorgana. The only consolation is that the fishing team has caught another 10 trout, which are already lying on the grill.

The end of the trip is drawing near, and we are on our way home. The last night we shall camp in a valley, where there is a small hot spring. To get there we have a very steep ride to pass a mountain crest at an altitude of 2200 meters. When we get there, we can look back over the fantastic valley surrounded by snow-covered mountains. And ahead of us lies a small lush valley of green pastures and beautiful flowers traversed by narrow streams.

But first we have to pass a small track of snow covering the top of the crest. The horses are fascinated by walking in the snow, and elegantly slide down on their behinds until they get a foothold on the rocks.

We have camped in the middle of the valley, and for the first time we cannot find shade, because the vegetation is low scrub. We spend a very hot and sunny afternoon between the hot spring and the cold water of the small river full of playful trout fry. A good sign that the water is clean, says our knowledgeable gaucho guide Juan.

We are surrounded by cattle and herds of horses. I get inspired by some of the young people to ride bareback. I have seen them run full speed and jump up on their horses Indian-style. Although my Indian-style is reduced to an unathletic climbing up, it is a fantastic feeling to gallop without the saddle and feel as one with the horse. We ride full speed into a herd of cattle, and my horse doesn't hesitate for a moment. It is in full control.

Our last evening in the wilderness is celebrated by sending two riders back to buy a lamb. Our provisions are running low and not so appetizing. A couple of hours later they arrive with a live lamb lying across the saddle. I don't even have time to get my camera out, before Juan has cut its throat, and 20 minutes afterwards it is being grilled over the fire. The last meal is enjoyed with dry bread and spring water vintage 2000-2008.

The next day we spend 8 hours in the saddle on our way back to the estancia. Up and down over crest after crest totally covered in dust from the dry track. Once in a while we have to get off to walk the horses on the most rocky and steep tracks. With a few hours left to the estancia, the horses know they are getting close to home, and they become very animated and playful. We could almost let go of the reins, because they know their own way by now.

When we can see the estancia, we let the horses loose in a gallop. We arrive in the golden light just before the sun sets, and darkness falls within a few minutes. An hour later we all sit around the dining table eating grilled chicken, dressed in clean clothes and smelling of soap from a hot shower. We enjoy the first salad of the week, but most of all - a table full of cold beers and wine.

Full of food and dead tired we turn in for the night. The gaucho life is over, but we will be back.