In April 2015, I realised a dream which I'd held for something like ten years, to go on a riding holiday. I booked the holiday about two months beforehand, and in the intervening period, trained intensively, having weekly riding tuition in order to acclimatise myself for a week in the saddle.
I love horse riding and it was wonderful to have the excuse to invest some real time in it. I deliberately never counted up the cost of all this holiday preparation, but it was certainly not cheap! I soon noticed myself becoming more comfortable on horseback, if not more accomplished. I had ridden quite regularly in my teenage years, so I knew the principles of it, it was just a matter of regaining my confidence and the appropriate type of fitness. With the latter in mind, I also took up middle distance running with a group of my colleagues in Swindon. But my new-found running career is another story for another blog.
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| Max, the horse I obsessed over and spent every weekend with during my teenage years |
I booked the trip with
Unicorn Trails, the very company I had first spied in my very first 'Pony' magazine, all those years ago. They advertised a horse riding holiday in Croatia, which sounded like a good challenge, without being too intense in terms of climate or riding. My riding ability is generally walk trot and canter, gallop at a push, but jumping is not my forte. This sounded like something I could handle, and Croatia sounded exotic enough – I only knew one person who had been there, and she said it was beautiful.
A week before I left for Croatia, my father insisted that I bought some cycling shorts. I packed them 'just in case', in the way you would pack blister patches when going hiking in comfortable old boots. I had a new pair of jodhpurs, a new riding helmet, and even a head camera, to capture the experience when I had no hands free to take photos! With my body protector (at my Mum's insistance) also in tow, I had a suitcase nearly as big as me!
The trip soon ran into difficulty though when I arrived early on Sunday morning to Stansted airport. I was not used to flying, and certainly not to having to wait to check my luggage in. The queue was long, and by the time I reached the end, the gate had closed for luggage. Even now, nearly a year later, just recounting the story brings back the sensation of fear and panic that I felt! I tried begging the airline. I tried sneaking my immense suitcase through hand luggage. I tried begging someone else from the airline. I tried taking it to the postal service and dashing through security with my hand luggage, but as I arrived at the gate, I was refused board. Eventually, I watched my plane to Pula take off without me. There were no more flights that day, so for a mere £110 (that's five horse riding lessons) I booked onto an afternoon flight to Trieste, Italy, and was collected from the airport and driven through Italy, Slovenia, and finally into Croatia and down into the Istrain peninsula late that night.
The next day we rose early for breakfast and I was introduced to the other riders, two French girls, friends called Josefine and Anna, a Dutch girl, Joyce, and one Croatian who was training to lead the rides herself, Martina. Of course, Petar was also Croatian, and he would be leading all of our rides. All of the guests were in our late teens to mid twenties, and obviously mad about horses. None of the girls were self important or boastful, as I was strangely used to from horsewomen, which came as a pleasant surprise.
The lodging was a bed and breakfast type arrangement, quite rustic. As I was later to discover we were very rural, which would be both charming and discomforting!
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| My cute little room. Luckily it was the low season, so I didn't have to share! |
We were trekking to different locations for the next two nights, so we were told to pack whatever we needed for that period. The other girls presented their suitcases. I emerged with a backpack so small I could wear it whilst riding. After some indecision, I opted to wear my padded cycling shorts under my Jodhpurs. (Prevention is better than cure right?)
After a delicious continental breakfast, we jumped into the land rover (one of those really old boxy ones, the kind that means business!) and drove to the nearby farm where the others had ridden to the previous night.
The sun was beating down as I finally met my horse for the week, Junior.
I was determined he and I would be best pals. I noticed gleefully that he was the most striking of all the guest horses, and he had little plaits in his mane. I was only slightly phased by the fact had been kept in a stable over night to prevent him from fighting with the other horses, and whilst the other horses lazily stood still to be groomed and saddled up for the days ride, Junior pranced and fidgetted and nearly crushed me against the wall. I had the beautiful, lively, problem horse! This is what happens when you are the last to arrive.
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| Junior and I on the first day - all set to become best bud's. |
I have a soft spot for naughty horses, so I didn't mind, but as I struggled to get him to stand still long enough for me to mount him, I wasn't really thinking of the long week ahead.
Junior and I were ordered to the back of the ride where we could do the least damage, behind Joyce and her mount. Junior was very fidgetty, and as the hours passed, my enjoyment of the beautiful sunshine, idylic scenery, and experience of finally spending the quality time with horses was marred by the need to constantly be on my guard, pulling Junior back when he got too close to the horse in front, searching for anything in the fields or hedgerows which might spook him, and forcing us into isolation as we were distanced from the rest of the group.
At lunch time we dismounted in a beautiful pebbled bay, riding our horses through the translucent blue water before tethering Junior (and releasing the others) in a beautiful green clearing sprinkled with yellow flowers. Bread, cheese, tuna and ham was provided and we lounged happily in the sunshine, occasionally leaping up to secure junior as he escaped from his tether, or to shoo away another horse if any got within kicking distance.
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| Our beautiful picnic spot |
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| Josefine's horse, or possibly Martina's, enjoying lunch |
After lunch we ascended and continued trekking through the countryside. From my previous travel experiences, I was reminded of rural France. The countryside was little populated, and much of it wasn't even farmed. The scenery was not dramatic, but I much preferred it to the arid scrub of southern Spain or Portugal, and it was a lot easier (especially considering our mode of transport!) than Andorra.
It was a long, hot afternoon. I continued to battle my pony, and it all came to a head when we came out of a woodland into a grassy meadow. The group ascended into a fast canter, which became a gallop (I always find galloping faster than expected!) I attempted to brake fruitlessly as I watched Junior gaining on Joyce's horse before us. Joyce got too close to Anna, whose horse kicked out mid-stride. Joyce half-halted suddenly, and Junior and I were left with nowhere to go. He veered left and I careened out of the saddle, thudding into the long grass beside him. Commotion ensued as I shamefacedly grappled to my feet and caught my horse, vaulting deftly back into the saddle and trying to pretend nothing had happened. I protested that I was fine, and the ride continued. My cheeks were crimson. That would not have happened to a better rider.
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finally getting some distance between us (see Junior's ears) and Joyce (pictured).
Apparently I was even feeling confident enough to hold a camera! |
As we approached a small farm, we heard a whinnying coming from just out of sight. Junior responded heartily, the rest of the herd walking along in alert silence. Into sight came a black stallion, slightly larger than any of our horses. Petar immediately ordered us to dismount, and we held our horses as the stallion approached. He was somewhat aggressive to the other horses (we had a couple of mares in the group) but Petar managed to catch him, and left Martina to hold him whilst he ran for the owner. The stallion reared violently, a few times he nearly kicked Martina in the face, and some of our herd were very unsettled. Many minutes passed before Petar returned with an older man, speaking angrily. The man refused to apologise, insistent that stallions are always frisky and spirited. Petar grumbled that it hadn't been trained sufficiently!
It turned out that the house on the farm was where we would be staying for the night - the horse owner lived in another house nearby - so we unsaddled, and took out horses out to some paddocks about a kilometre away. Junior, of course, had a paddock to himself.
The house was big, and decorated enthusiastically with antlers and skulls of all sorts of local wildlife. In the yard, we played fetch with a rambunctious border collie until tea was ready, which was served with copious home made wine and copious home made schnappes, of several varieties. I enthusiastically embraced the "culture" and by the time Petar joined us from checking on the horses back at his farm, I had been labelled the problem rider, for "falling of her horse, being an awkward vegetarian, and getting drunk all on her first day!"
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| our new friend in action |
I shared a room with Joyce that night, and she told me about her boyfriend back in Holland. She knew how I had been struggling that day, but she was sympathetic. We decided to be friends.
The next morning we groomed our horses 'Indian style' with fistfuls of hay, and I mounted up, resolved that today I would be a better rider. The riding was much more scenic, and a few times the trails were so steep we were forced to dismount. I noticed that I wasn't the only one having obedience issues, which made me feel better, and I felt comfortable walking alongside Junior.
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| Joyce waiting to descend one of the steeper trails. |
We had lunch by a scenic river with a small waterfall providing a soundtrack, with all of the horses tethered. Leaving the other girls chatting whilst Martina and Petar dosed in the sun, I wandered over to check up on Junior. I found Joyce's horse wandering loose, and quickly secured him, discreetly telling Joyce to double check her release knots. I was starting to feel less inferior. At least not laughably so, and that brightened my mood as I petted an indifferent Junior.
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| Another scenic lunch second day's trekking |
Thw rest of the day passed uneventfully, apart from passing some donkeys which nobody except Junior needed to make a big deal about, whinnying his little heart out as they brayed in reply!
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| You can see I'm getting more confident in the saddle as the frequency of photos increases! |
We stayed the night at an Agrotourism hotel, Agritourizm Dol, which is a family-run hotel on a working farm. We sampled more home brewed wine (direct from the vat!) and had a delicious pasta dinner. This was my favourite of all the places we stayed.
In the morning we had a hearty breakfast (although all the food had a certain meatiness to it, even if it was apparently vegetarian!) the van full of suitcases except mine drove off, and as we wandered down the village to reunite with our horses. Joyce and I could hear a waterfall, and snuck away from the group to check it out. We discovered a magical place, a sort of secret garden with a big waterfall into a perfectly blue pool, surrounded by lush green foliage. A goose and a goat were having a conversation, so I had to take a quick photo, and then we sprinted back to the group before we were missed.
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| The Goat and the Goose... They should name a pub after them. |
Today was the hottest day, and would be the most tiring yet. We quickly found ourselves climbing a steep trail into the hills, leaning forwards in the saddle to ease the pressure on our poor horses. The scenery was again impressive, rolling hills and valleys speckled with vineyards and small farms. It occurred to me how lucky I was to have chosen spring to visit. It is a beautiful time of year, in Croatia as it is in the UK, but hotter. I imagine that a few months later the region would have had a much more arid feel.
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| Joyce contorting herself to stop her horse from nibbling the blossom! |
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One of the many times I felt bad for the horses. In fairness, they do have twice as many legs as us...
We stopped for lunch in the village of Beram, and had lunch at a tavern, making a change from the bread and cheese. Climbing the hill from where we left the horses to where we'd have lunch, I felt real physical exhaustion in my legs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worked them this hard - it was a good feeling! When we returned to the horses, Martina's mare was playing up, but Junior was strangely well behaved - perhaps he was as tired as me!We had barely left the village however when my complacent delusions were shattered. The group skirted around the edge of a a fallow field, in the corner of which was a large tree, fairly low, and still dormant from the winter. There was some sort of horse-rider interface error, as Junior had the bright idea to cut around the tree. For him, dipping his head slightly, this was no issue. For me, at branch height, it was a different matter. I frantically tried to control my horse, but his mind was set, and so I plowed into the tree, getting lodged amongst its branches. The rest of the group heard my panicked bleating and turned around to laugh whilst I dislodged myself. My ego had taken another beating!
That night, the horses stayed at another friend's American Style ranch (It seemed everyone in Istria knows each other and gives favours!), complete with appaloosa and paint horses, and more questionable alcoholic beverages, and we had a hearty dinner of countless courses, in another room which was more antler than wall! More schnappes was handed out, and the mood was good. The holiday was turning out nothing like I had imagined, but it was good in its own way.
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The next day, when I woke up, there was a small black scorpion in my bathroom. I had heard that Josefine and Anna had a similar visitor on their first night, but couldn't remember what to do. Out of fear, I crushed it with my riding boot. It was surprisingly easy! It was only afterwards I realised I'd never seen such an exotic creature outside of captivity before... and I had crushed it to death! I put my boot back on, and we returned to the ranch for our last full day of riding. We meandered through more beautiful countyside as the weather cooled. As I changed helmet, this was the first day I was able to (try to) use my headcam. As a result, there are almost no photographs. I couldn't tell when it was filming and when it wasn't, so I kept pressing the button in the vain hope that at least
something would be recorded. However, the angle of my helmet/head and all my bouncing around meant that a lot of the footage is silhouetted, as the camera set its exposure to the level of the (white) sky! Here's some of the high quality imagery accidentally captured in the "still" mode I didn't know the camera had:
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Junior impressively obeying my instruction
to hold back while the others cantered, so
we could have fun catching up! |
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| There are a lot like this. |
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A typical istrian village. Seconds after I stopped
fiddling with my head to take this photo, a dog
started barking and all the horses spooked! |
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Apparently the red soil is good for truffles. We
ate a lot of truffles in Croatia! |
Then came the low point of my holiday. After another steep descent, we trotted through an overgrown woodland trail. As the group plunged on, one of the brambles Joyce had been holding back came back at the wrong time, entangling itself in my clothing and skin. I tried to pull Junior back but once again failed. I heard my T-shirt shred, and began to feel myself being pulled out of the saddle. I called out to stop and Joyce called forward so that the ride halted, but before they did, I ripped the branch out of me. My t-shirt was torn badly, and I was bleeding in several places. The others looked back quizzically but the ride continued. Unlike my fall I had little sympathy - they must have thought I really was just a useless rider. This was an awful realisation, and I started to sniffle a bit from the embarrassment but also the pain. I was properly bleeding, and more than a little achey from the week on horseback. Joyce noticed and that embarrassed me even further. I trudged on and when we stopped for lunch I walked Junior around to graze, rather than tethering him like the others. I felt too humiliated to spend time with the humans.
On the final day, the weather turned sour. We went for a morning walk in the semi-rain around the nearby town in the morning, desperately trying to steady our horses when the church bells tolled, and hooves started skidding on the slippery wet cobbles. A large part of me genuinely thought I was going to die as Junior skittered and slid, the stones below looking far less inviting than the grassy meadow from before! However we regained our composure, and I felt very proud as we trotted back into the countryside. Here I was able to use my new "technique" of holding Junior back until the others were almost out of sight, and I was rewarded with the best gallop of my life. I finally felt fully confident as he surged forward towards the others, and I slowed him down with good time. All this time I had been so lonely at the back of the ride, now I was absolutely glowing and more than a little smug. It was only a short ride, and then we went into Rovinj for the afternoon with Martina's two dogs. Joyce, Anna, Josefine and I wandered around the streets taking photos and buying souvenirs. There were lots of cute little markets and endless art stalls. We also got some delicious icecream. Here are some of the photos.
That night, when I went to bed, I looked up and saw a giant black millipede-like creature above my bed. It was about the size of my hand and directly over my head. I darted out from under it and when I looked up it was gone. Had I imagined it? I kept the light on, and for the rest of the night I slept fitfully. Scorpions.. giant insects... despite being far from well rested, I was glad to slide out of bed when the morning finally came.
I had an extra day after the others left, where I just helped around the farm. Martina and I brought some of the horses into the coral to prepare for the following week's ride, We sunbathed and played with some baby donkeys, I even got to help train a couple of the horses. Petar is adamant that he will be riding his horse "The great Pascal" in the Japan 2020 Olympics!
That was a long saga of a blog, thanks for sticking with it. Hopefully this is as long as they're going to get!
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| Himself, looking nonchalant on our first day of riding. I do wish I could do it again, just so I could make a better job of it this time! |
