Trek #1: Rio Blanco Jan. 21- 24

I returned yesterday, sunburned and covered in cuts and scratches, from my three-day trek to Rio Blanco. It was a hot, hilarious, and eventful trip. Creating a relaxed dynamic between all of the riders is a large part of my job, and fortunately, they all got along easily without much of my help. The six riders shared a common language of English, although three spoke Spanish as well which gave Luis people to communicate with.

Of the riders, Marie and Raynald were the oldest. They are a French couple, mid 50’s, who have lived in Barcelona for the past twenty years. They are very capable riders, sweet and easy-going and never hesitated to express they enjoyment and excitement. Birgit is a doctor from Vienna, who came with her fiancé, Mauricio, who was born in Chile but moved to Austria when he was three. Birgit has a little girl, wide-eyed love for horses and spent much time worrying over her horse’s health and happiness. Mauricio is a surgeon and at first, seemed buttoned-up and straight edge. But, after a few beers, and two days in the mountains, he was a talkative and often joked about how this trip was getting him back in touch with his Chilean roots. The last two, Clare and Dean are a recently married English couple who are traveling around the world for nine months. I got hardly a serious word from Dean who was kind and sweet and a constant source of jokes, much of them self-deprecating as he is a large man. I spent the majority of my time talking with Clare, although it wasn’t entirely because we became instant friends. Clare is a highly nervous and anxious person, and after a small misstep with her horse on day-one she was overcome with fright and nerves. I spent the rest of the day talking her back down into a calmer state and riding by her side, trying everything I could think of to take her mind off of the dangerous trails. Overall, the eight of us had a very fun time, much of it spent laughing and they all mixed well together.

Horse-trekking through the mountains and rainforests of Chile is indescribable. We climb for hours at a time, squeezing the horses between boulders and too-narrow paths and through bamboo forests, sliding down steep mud descents, jumping three- to four feet-high fallen tree trunks, and clambering over rock fields where the horses balance precariously and keep moving. Those words mean little though and it’s hard to relate the feeling of letting a horse carry you over terrain you’d hardly attempt on foot. We trek for six to eight hours a day, with a short break for lunch, and arrive in the late evening to camp. On this particular ride we spent the first evening at the edge of a lake, and the second two nights at the Rio Blanco hot springs. We set up tents and sleeping bags, then I cook dinner over the fire and we all eat.

Even riders with a lifetime of experience find themselves unprepared for the mountains. When promoting and explaining rides, Mathias purposelyremains vague about trail conditions; but once riders are out, they embrace the challenge and handle the terrain.  Giving too many details about just how terrifying the trails can be only scares people away.

On day one, riding from Laguna Gepingue to Rio Blanco, we traveled along dirt roads for an hour and a half, before entering the wet forest. Trails were muddy and narrow and for four hours we climbed, descended and wound around ancient araucaria trees. The last hour of the day brought us back onto wide dirt roads cleared for logging, all the way to the rustic Rio Blanco campsite and hot springs. There, Luis prepared an asado, (a huge slab of roasted beef) and I cooked asparagus soup, boiled potatoes and made a salad out of greens from the garden of the family that maintains the campsite. It was a delicious dinner, with wine and beer, and we followed with a bottle of pisco sour.

Clare, the English woman, decided not to come with us the second day. We did a full day ride from the springs, up to a high mountain lake and back down to the springs for a second night of hot baths and camping. We followed the same logging road back up into the mountains, then battled the bamboo and fallen tree trunks for two hours. It was brutally hot which made it a tiring day for us, but more so for the horses. The bamboo has a habit of pushing forward with the lead horse, then swinging back and whacking the following rider. We were soon covered in welts and bruises, and dripping mud that flicked up onto our backs and saddles as the horses struggled through the boggy pits. Midmorning, we had an exciting spectacle as the horses struggled to jump over a five foot high, five foot wide tree trunk. We dismounted, but it was still difficult. One horse managed to get its forelegs over then remained stuck with its belly resting on the trunk for several minutes before summoning the courage to get his hind legs over as well.  Meanwhile the riders stood and gaped, looking to each other without words we took our half day break lakeside and walked barefoot into the icy water in an effort to regain some energy.  The three hours home afforded the best views of the trip but were brutally hot and we all, horses and riders, limped exhaustedly into camp at 7:30 pm.

The morning of our final day, Clare told me through tears that she couldn’t get on a horse again. Rio Blanco is about six hours from Pucón and only accessible by rocky, dirt roads and I had no idea how we could get her home. Convinced that she was in no condition to ride, I went to the farmhouse to use the satellite phone to call Mathias and break the news. As it rang, she found me and said that she would do it. We had a pack horse with us, Pepe, to carry all the tents and sleeping bags and I decided to let her ride him instead of her original horse. It worked beautifully and although she was nervous she made it the whole day, which was a beautiful seven hour ride along the shore of Caburgua Lake and into the mountains above it.

An hour from Antilco, the trails ended so we stopped, met the van and horse truck and drove the rest of the way home as planned. At the ranch we ate another feast of asado, potatoes and pebre and recounted the most memorable parts of the trip: the hot springs, the treacherous cliffs and bottomless bogs; the scorching sun and sweating, heaving horses; the views; and most of all, the feeling of being completely lost in pristine wilderness without a car, horse, road or telephone pole in sight.

I’ve ridden much of those trails before, but this ride felt different from my treks two years ago. Somehow I’m a less anxious, more confident guide and I was able to enjoy the experience much more. I’m not as intimidated by Luis and I think I’ve actually gained his respect… or at least some. Helping Clare was hard and we had three long days and a lot of word, but the trip was wonderfully fun and the landscape was stunning. The next entry will have a few pictures! For more, go to

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