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We e-mailed an address for an Estancia (ranch) that we found on a random blog. We received the reply a few days later apologising for the delay. It explained that the Estancia was a real working farm, not a tourist hotel and said that, yes, of course we could come. It finished with a polite goodbye… and then came the PS's…
PS: note: if you are a british teenager; we are not a party place nor an entertainment center.
PS 2: if you are a sixty something north american; we are not a restaurant nor have Sheraton like facilities, we are a real south american ranch. For both; we can recommend excellent places in buenos aires and montevideo, with much better entertaining life and better acommodation and large menu restaurants.
PS 3: again, note;
we don´t have internet access at the ranch, so it may take a couple of days before we answer you.
we are a real ranch,
we have electricity only 3 hours a day.
we are not a restaurant.
we can´t do anything about the cold if you come in Winter nor about the heat if in Summer,
and like in some other places of the world there is nothing we can do about the rain.
PS4; friends, honestly, we don´t have internet, we are sorry about, it may take a few days to get your mail and reply to it and we simply can´t guess if you decide to come immediately after you email us
ELEANOR & JONATHAN :WE CAN RECEIVE YOU ON THE 14TH OF MARCH. LET US KNOW IF ONE OF THOSE DATES SUITS YOU.
KIND REGARDS.
With that e-mail being one of the best I have ever recieved (except for the one about the french white flag factory burning to the ground thus rendering their army useless) we decided this was the place for us! This was where we were going and no doubt about it. Exactly what we were looking for.
Juan, the owner, met us at the bus station with a friendly 'Hola, como estas? Bien?'...and then with some surprise 'entiendes?'...before breaking into fluent English. He's lived on the ranch all his life, is a qualified vet and lives with his Swiss wife Suzzanne. He drove for a good hour past nothing but fields until we pulled up next to a one story house standing alone in the middle of the green.
It was everything we had imagined and hoped for - a lovely farmhouse with gaucho boots and hats hanging off the outside walls. In the nearby grounds were other small buildings, one a little cottage with a continuously smoking chimney that had pigs in the garden. The second being a larger shed, set up for shearing. Round the sides and back of the main house were horses - free to roam around alongside chickens and the ocassional Rhea (an emu like bird and common on the lands).
Now...this all sounds great and pretty and everything else but the thing is, I'd never really been on a horse before. Not properly anyway. Only once in Costa Rica where my horse basically followed a line of other horses at nothing more than walking pace. That meant I started off a little nervous as to what was ahead.
The morning began with a cold shower as the kitchen stove had not been lit meaning no hot water yet. Fine by us, we're used to cold morning showers now. Some bread and jam had been put out and we'd already been told to help ourselves to eggs if we wanted them. Cooking some up over the now lit stove sleep began to disperse to be replaced by excitement. Next thing I know, Gaucho boots are being pulled on - tanned affairs, nearly knee high - followed by a leather hat of a similar shade.
Clothes on (attempting to look Gaucho but more closely resembling Brokeback) I ventured outside. The horses had been lined up with a whistle from Juan and we were each allocated one then given the once through of how to saddle it up. Not the same as in the UK, apparently, (I really wouldn't know) but with these horses the saddle is less moulded and balanced on padding before a leather girth is placed over the saddle and pulled tight.The saddle is pretty hard so a sheepskin is then placed over the saddle and a second girth used to secure this. The 'bit' is a different design from western ones with a longer mouthpiece and so you only use one hand to guide the horse - that makes sense if you have to do work with the other. With the lesson in saddling up over I await my instructions on how to ride the thing…it comes thus:
Juan: 'Pull the reign, the horse will stop. '
Jon: 'Um...What if it doesn't'
Juan: 'then you are doing something wrong. '
Juan nods and then points to the sign behind me. It states 'City Slicker, It's not the horse. It's you'
So, fully versed in the art of riding I jump on (from the left hand side of course) and get going. Straight away we're into a field and going over a brook. My horse leaps and breaks into a trot, which bounces me around for a good ten minutes before I figure out the rhythm.
The next thing I know, I am trotting through a green field that stretches out as far as I can see, wearing my boots and hat, Eleanor is on her horse to one side and another couple of wannabe gauchos is on the other. They all know how to ride a horse. First job of the day is to find a calf Juan had earlier spotted that is suffering from an infection and give it some antibiotics. We find the calf, it gets lassoed and me and my fellow male wannabe grab the rope which is now wrapped around a fence post for stability. Juan approaches the struggling animal, gives the injection to the surprisigly strong bull-to-be and we release it. Job done, no horsemanship required. Excellent.
Next up, rounding up the sheep (they have about 400) which all need to be given a health check weekly. We enter the field and start to follow directions to drive the sheep towards the fence surrounding the field perimiter. To the sheep, the threat of the horses is not enough and we need to shout to get the sheep to move together. We all split up, finding little groups of sheep each and miraculously I manage to get the horse to move where I want to go and get my share to the fence. As we drive forward towards the pen where we'll treat them, all around me are shouts and whoops from my fellow gauchos as they do their part of the herding, occasionally transitioning into trot to reign in breaks attempted by the wooly ones but usually walking slowly behind the pack at the pace of the slowest sheep. We get them into the pen after only one mis-hap and then, on foot, split the sheep out. We chase 10 or so into the centre oval (called the Huevo or Egg) of the pen and check each for signs of infection - redness, blood or limp - all being investigated. Juan digs his fingers into wounds and squeezes out the occasional maggot before treating with powdery pink antibiotics and antiseptic creams. We look on, look unfazed and feel pretty damn proud of our sheep herding skills.
Job two ... Check.
We spend the next few hours gathering more of the sheep and getting more confident in our riding. Lunch comes too quickly and I spend the two hours of siesta reading through some national geographics and getting more excited about the tasks ahead. Afternoon hits and I get a horse 'upgrade'. We go out after the cattle.
The cows and bulls are much more tricky to handle. We sweep a huge field and end up with a few hundred cattle in a big ball which we try to roll towards the coral for branding and a health check. My horse is itching to break into a canter and as soon as it sees about 30 of the cattle make a run for it far ahead, all it takes is a little nudge and I take to flight.The horse speedily gets around the cattle and after a few tight turns we get into a position ahead of them to block their passage and send them back into the herd. I then realise I've just been cantering for the first time, I even turned at speed and I'm still on the horse. I'M STILL ON THE BLOODY HORSE!!! We get the cows together again and manage to get them to the coral about half an hour later. Here, we separate them a few at a time into a stone-walled ring and with the help of white flags (which they seem to be afraid of) getting them to move where we want them. Now, we brand, treat and um…castrate a few of the unfortunate fellows. Just another day in the life of a Gaucho.
The treatment seems effective, the cattle and sheep all look in such good condition. The branding is done in stages and is done in the traditional way - we build up a fire and rest the branding iron on the coals. Once the cattle is in place Juan grips the wooden handles iron, pulls it from the fire in a shower of sparks and walks accross to the line of unwitting cattle where he places the brand onto the hindquarters of the animals. Skin and hair sizzles and hisses in a huge cloud of smoke-steam and one in three animals lets out a long moan - more of inconvenience than of pain. Apparently domesticated animals have been bred with an incredibly high tolerence to pain. That shows.
We all finish the day on a high. I can ride a horse and we've just manage to herd and treat a ridiculous amount of animals. We have a dinner of stewed lamb and rice cooked slowly over the wood burning kitchen stove as we sit outside in the garden, laughing about the our mess ups and drinking Grappa Miel, a lovely liquor like drink that tastes just like fresh, liquid honey (it pretty much is) before going to bed. I lie there still feeling the movement of the horse as my body subconsciously remembers the new sensations of the day, filing it away for later...
...I wake up to another gorgeous day.
It's not all rosey though…
My arse hurts and (despite the last comment) is most likely, rosey . I get up and hobble to the shower. Following that I remember a lesson of experience gained from the previous day - wear the tightest pair of pants you can find. Then hitch them up and make them even tighter. Make sure they are tight enough by jumping up and down a few times and then, only then, consider getting on a horse.
I do just that, swallow some ibuprofen and walk uncomfortably outside, avoiding talk in case anyone notices the raised octave of my voice, to saddle up my horse for the day.
The day continued pretty much the same as the first but with the aid of the resident Gaucho, Belinga - a Brazillian that walks the walk, wears the boots, grows the moustache and weilds the whip. He flew around the fields effortlessly fixing our Gringo mistakes and showing us all that we have a lot to learn with a patient smile when we did things like spent 10 mins looking scared of the bulls and other such hesitations. As the days went on, Juan also gave us the opportunity to work with more and more difficult to handle horses that were just itching to canter or gallop and needed a firm hand to stop them. Like a Ferrari compared with a 2CV - it is a little bit more difficult to handle but when you need the power it's there and these horses knew how to run. What better way to learn how to ride a horse - 6 hours a day through fields, across streams, up and down hills and herding animals…
The food in the evenings was great, rustic stuff. Not beef as you might imagine. We were told that gauchos don't really eat beef - the reason being there are no fridges in the countryside. You kill a cow and you have 300kg of meat to eat before it goes off and you just lost yourself something worth a lot at market. A sheep however, you can wolf one of them down in a few days if you try hard - this is Gaucho meat.
Apparently some people do come here and actually complain about things like the food (why?), the lack of electricity (expected and warned about) or even the horses ('this one moves about too much'). If anything of the sort is uttered Juan will pause, look the person in the eye and tell them 'I'll take a note', before getting on with the job in hand.
Great fun, great experience. Great food, great place. We loved everything about our time here and were nostalgic before we had even left. What's not to like. The days are exciting and if you get back and can muster the energy Juan considers himself Uruguay's champion (one and only) babminton player. The scenery is amazing. The riding is challenging. You are doing a job that you can immediately see how well you are doing and that you can be helpful (most of the time). You spend the night eating rustic food under a pitch black sky dotted with more stars than you can imagine.
I'd go back in a second. I'd live there if I could. Just do us all a favour and if you are reading this and thinking about going please read the PS's carefully…
- comments
Sam Witney Great write up sir. I captured the experience in a rather more inane way. Hope you're enjoying the last few weeks! http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150154827270150&saved