Basic HTML Version
78
MAY 2012
•
HEMISPHERESMAGAZINE.COM
The first thing I thought when the
shy gaucho Lalo led me to my horse, a
brown majestic piece of living equine art
practically shining in the sun, was that
Argentines must not be very litigious.
Why else, upon my arriving at Estancia
La Margarita, a ranch run by an eccentric
Englishman inthepampas,wouldsomeone
grant me access to this creature?
The concern grew as I clambered up
and realized I didn’t have the foggiest
notion how to operate it. Lalo spoke no
English—and even if he did, it wouldn’t
have ma ered, he was so bashful. (He did
gesture that I should hold on to the mane,
whichdidn’tmake awhole lot of sense, but
OK.) Even the equipment was foreign to
me: simple stirrups, reins and a rug to sit
on. And a mane to cling to in terror.
My first ride was a graceless and upset-
ting affair, with the horse trying to run as
fast as it could, me trying to stop it and
both of us succeeding only inmaintaining
an excruciatingly uncomfortable trot. All
thewhile, Lalo tro ed alongside, perform-
ing gratuitous feats of horsemanship. At
one point his horse actually started run-
ning
sideways
. He grinned and danced as
I clutchedmy horse’s mane grimly to keep
from falling off and being trampled.
At lunch (steak), I asked the ownerwhat
I was doing wrong. His answer: Stop try-
ing. The beast wants to run. Let it run. The
perpetual trot, whichhadnearly crumpled
my pelvis, was akin to the jerk a carmakes
when switching gears. Let it go to high
gear. Plus, he explained, unlike the English
style, gauchos lean back and let the angle
formedbetween their back and their horse
absorb the blows.
Leaningbackonahorse ina foreign land
is an act of great faith, but I decided to give
it a shot. I climbed back on and, holding
fast to the mane, walked the horse out
toward the open fields.
All right, horse
, I
said, leaning back.
Go to it.
And go he did.
We passed the unpleasant tro ing stage
without further incident, and a er that I
could feel himlock inand takeoff, storming
across the pampas, fluid as can be (save for
when he stepped in a hole and we nearly
wound up in what I imagine would have
been a broken heap).
We ran around like that for a while, I
don’t know how long. I started trusting
him. He started trustingme. He decidedhe
wanted to chase some cows. So we chased
some cows, rounding them up, picking
one off from the herd, then folding her
back in, all at precarious speeds, with the
cows—nature’s fussy aunts—groaning
and complaining to the delight of horse
and rider alike.
Afterward, I walked him back to the
stable and tied him up. The light was fad-
ing and I stood there for a moment, just
watching him, with both of us worn out
and winded. What a spectacular thing.
When the sun rose the next day, we were
at it again.
—Joe Keohane
WORDS FROMTHEWILD
“EXPERIENCES THAT REQUIRE THATMUCHSTRUGGLE, AND INVOLVE
THATMUCHRAWHUMANEMOTION, REALLY EXPOSEUS.WHEN
YOU’RE THAT EXPOSED, YOUCAN’THELP BUT EITHER LOVEORHATE
THE PEOPLE YOU’REWITH. IT JUSTHAPPENS THATWAY.WHENYOU’RE
RUBBEDRAW, YOUR PARTNERSAREGOINGTOBE SALT INYOUR
WOUND, OR THEY’REGOINGTOBE BAND-AIDS. THANKFULLY, ONTHAT
TRIP,WEWEREALL BAND-AIDS.”
—
CORYRICHARDS,
whose climbing teamnearly perished in an avalanche during the 2011 expedition
inwhich he became the first American to summit an 8,000-meter peak inwinter
MANEDRAG
Galloping full tilt across the Argentine pampas is no time to pull
back on the reins. (They wouldn’t do youmuch good anyway.)