To ride in Argentina, what could be more alluring? To gallop across the pampas on a finely-bred horse, with a sheepskin saddle and long stirrups and no stuffy English nonsense about hard hats and rising to the trot - what liberation, what thrills. That was my preconception, 10 years ago when I first tried it. The reality was less invigorating. This was a family holiday, with four children in tow, all too eager to try out their very basic skills (one pony-trek on Exmoor) in wide open spaces. Naturally, one of them fell off I found him in a crumpled heap, his sisters kneeling over him. The pampas of Entre Rios were very flat, and the estancia where we stayed was a sedate and noble place: formal dining room and pristine manicured lawns.
So a decade later, why was I tempted again? Because my husband insisted. He grew up in Argentina, cantering bareback, and he had heard about Los Potreros, a very different estancia in the low mountains (Las Sierras Chicas) in the north, near Cordoba. And this time we would be child-free. Freedom beckoned.
Los Potreros is a 6000-acre working cattle farm that has remained in the same Anglo-Argentine family, the Beggs, for four generations. Itıs a high winding uphill drive from Cordoba airport, between the pampas and the Andes. You are picked up and transported to the charming old farmhouse in time for tea or supper. You notice at once how friendly and relaxed it is. Generous supplies of local Los Potreros wine (a Malbec and a Torrontes) before dinner, a cosy gathering round the log fire in the main farmhouse. There were just the two of us, and a father-and-daughter team of expert riders from Ireland and the Begg family, Robin and his Welsh wife Teleri and four children, and Robinıs brother Kevin who told us all about the history of the place and the horses we would ride.
There was, in fact, an apocalyptic storm that first night, sheet lightning and torrents of rain drumming on the roof of our room, but the next day dawned clear and cloudless, everything a refreshing new-washed green. Time for a short walk before breakfast with a couple of dogs (black labrador Pippa and a sad one-eared mutt named Earless) and take in the vista of tall pines and low hills, the sound of cockerels and birdsong.
By 9.20 it was already wonderfully warm: the local climate is known as "siempre de temporada" , sunny and dry. It was March, with an average daily high of 27 degrees. Breakfast, cooked in the huge farmhouse kitchen, is served at a long refectory table by the smiley staff in gleaming white: Jamie Oliverıs recipe muesli, fresh bread and nectarines, croissants with home-made grape jam and, if you liked, huevos fritos y jamon (eggs and bacon).
We were kitted out with straw hats against the sun, and leather chaps to strap over our jeans, and reminded about the soft mouths of the horses, needing only the gentlest nudge from the reins for guidance, and introduced to our mounts. Iım afraid mine, a docile bay with a white blaze, was called Cara de Queso (Cheese-face.)
In our saddlebags we put sun-cream and swimsuits, as the first ride, a couple of hours, was via a dramatic, ice-cold waterfall in the mountains, where we were invited to swim. (I declined.) Remounted, we rode on to Kevin Beggıs farmhouse where a vast asado (barbecue) was laid out under the trees. Here was a chance to sample the best meat of the Argentine: tender bifes and robust sausages and matambre, (rolled beef) perfectly char-grilled. Then a nice easy ride home. On day two there was a longer, three-hour ride to see a little school, sponsored by the Beggs and generous guests , which the farmworkersı children, neat in their clean blousons, ride for two and a half hours daily each way, to attend; and a peaceful Jesuit retreat, the church of Our Lady of the Candelarias, opened for us by the keeper named Jesus.
The point about remote Los Potreros is the landscape, unique in Argentina, of green, tree-covered hills and distant views. And the point about the horses, all bred on the farm, is that they are so strong and gentle, so fantastically sure-footed that they carry you without a qualm up and down steep and stony paths, so you feel secure and confident. Never a lumbering jolt or a shying away from a rushing stream or a rocky boulder. For me, a somewhat rusty horsewoman, it was pure happiness. (No riding experience is necessary; we had a complete beginner with us one day, and he, aged 65, loved it.) I must mention that the saddles - the finest British Army saddles, softened by sheepskin blankets - ensure maximum comfort to the buttocks despite oneıs aching muscles. On day three I was allowed to ride Sol Naciente, one of the Peruvian gaited horses: these have the "paso": they never trot, they walk at top speed, and can glide straight into a smooth canter. It was bliss.
Above us, we saw eagles, turkey vultures, parakeets , doves, even a condor. Partridge scattered underfoot, the horsesı hooves crushed the herbs and feathery grasses as we rode, filling the air with aromas of mint, clover, rosemary, fennel, sage and lemon. There is light and shade, trees and wild flowers in abundance: celandine and purple thistle, blue convolvulus and scarlet zinnias.
Los Potreros is a truly traditional farmhouse, with comfortable sofas and bright woven rugs and throws, books everywhere, masses of classic English titles from the 1920s to the 1950s. Itıs not a bit grand, just tasteful and fantastically well-organised; even the cock crows at precisely 7am. Bedrooms have flagged floors, comfortable four-poster beds, old trunks, everything worn and loved. One night we all gathered to hear traditional Argentine country music featuring two local singers, and the maid and the chef joined in with their instruments too.
The visitorsı book is crammed with superlatives: "Que mas podremos pedir? (What more could one ask for?) being the theme. Every guest extols the relaxed family atmosphere and the charm of the obedient horses. The adjective I would use is "easeful" ; just being there filled one with well-being. On the last day we rode to the highest point of the Sierras Chicas, known as "the top of the world" which is exactly how we felt.
Robin Begg said to me one day, as we rode: " We will be happy if Los Potreros becomes known as the BEST riding place in South America. We would not have embarked on this new career , if it were not so ."
Valerie Grove The Times