This article is one of a series on life in the campo, or country living in Costa Rica, as my wife and I* experienced it on our visits and after moving to Costa Rica. Each is a sort of time capsule, the stories evolving with us as we have lived more experiences and delved deeper into the culture.

When I think of the things I was planning to learn how to do, horseback riding was not one of them. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have always thought horses were beautiful, but I thought it was cheating to ride. I mean, you just get on its back and then the horse does all the work, right?

Out in the campo, many of the kids ride horses to school every day starting in kindergarten, so to say that campesinos know how to ride is an understatement. (Hector, our business partner, has actually been in rodeos.) There is a horse that I have ridden belonging to one of the locals called School Bus because that’s his job, taking the kids to school. School Bus and I don’t get along — we’re equally matched for stubbornness. (Hector's riding School Bus in the picture at right.)

Because I hike and mountain bike, I consider myself reasonably fit and able to handle most physical challenges, so I tend to get into scrapes. A more physically timid person would think, “Boy, I am not ready for this!” I, on the other hand, embrace the challenge, and sometimes the ground, a passing tree, or other obstacles that are foolish enough to get into my trajectory.

On our second trip to Costa Rica, we went horseback riding around Arenal Volcano, an absolutely gorgeous route. The ride lasted about 2 ½ hours, which was probably more total riding than I had ever done in my life. As the tico guide was preparing the horses for us to ride, he sized me up and picked one for me. I was thinking, “Obviously, he sees that I am a manly man and will give me a horse well-suited for me.” Well, he picked me out a horse by the name of Gilligan. This did not bode well. Being a greenhorn, I didn't know that my stirrups were too long. This meant that when Gilligan would be convinced to gallop, I couldn't raise myself enough off the saddle. I have not been spanked so much since I was a kid. Also, I had never been on a horse before that did anything besides walk. Gilligan had two speeds, either a slow walk or a run, the latter especially when he decided I was getting a little too insistent that he keep up with the group.

Riding horses in Costa Rica is much different from your normal trail riding in the USA, from what I can tell. Unlike the United States, Costa Rica does not have legions of employees to waste on telling people not to do risky things and explaining the facts of life to them. Also, since Costa Ricans in the campo are excellent riders, they are not aware that there really is any risk — to them, it is very safe. In the United States, most tourist riding is done on groomed trails from which all the obstacles have been cut away. Our first ride in Costa Rica was on a trail that went through streams, mud, and cow pastures. The mud was so deep that the horses were struggling through it.

My wife, Amy’s reaction to the first stream we came to was interesting. We had traveled more than 2,000 miles and spent a lot of money for a vacation. At the first steep, muddy trail that had the horses slipping and sliding down to a stream, she had a decision to make. Did she declare to all and sundry that there was no way she was going to ride down that trail, or did she just go for it and hope for the best? She went for it, and did wonderfully. Amy was not even sore the next day; I was in pain. This was not fair, since I am the manly man.

When we eventually decided to purchase a property in Costa Rica for reforestation, Hector showed us many fine fincas to choose from. Guess what — we were expected to either walk it or ride horses. Now, Amy is not able to walk an entire finca, so she usually rides. (Hector actually thinks she’s a good rider.) Sometimes I ride, sometimes I walk. The Costa Ricans love to ride horses around the farms and show everything off. Of course, I have to focus on staying on the horse while looking all around and showing appreciation for the fincas — this is challenging.

In mountain biking, my older brother once told me that mountain bikers are into pain — their partners’ pain. There really are few things more satisfying than getting to the top of a hill and looking back at your riding partner suffering immense pain and discomfort trying to achieve the same. I am convinced that horseback riders hold the same perverse point of view.

Because I haven’t had a lot of exposure to horseback riding in my life (but I’m getting considerably more with every trip), I had no idea at what level the kind of riding I was doing would be rated. I didn’t even know that riding is rated for difficulty level until some friends from the USA came down and informed me that I’ve been riding at a very high level of difficulty — they said it was level 5, whatever that means. Of course, Hector and crew act like it is nothing. The following is an illustration.

We were traveling from our finca to an adjoining finca. The easiest way to get to it was to go down a very steep embankment. The drop is about 30 to 40 feet and the grade is closer to 90 degrees than 45. I honestly would have found it very difficult to walk down the slope, much less ride it. We made it in one piece, and my heart restarted. All well and good. We proceeded to ride around the finca and then headed back.

I assumed that of course we would return a different way. (Truthfully, I was hoping we would.) Nope, not going to happen. Sure enough, there was the embankment ahead of me, looking from the bottom more like a wall.

One of the things Hector often tells me is, “Let the horse do it; the horses know better than you.” Unlike trail horses that the tourists ride, these are smart and very well trained. They know exactly what to do. School Bus saw the embankment and decided the best way to handle it was at full throttle. He bolted for the slope with me hanging on. I guess he decided that the only way he was going to make it up was to get a good running start, particularly with someone my size on his back. We hit the embankment at full speed and then he lunged up the hill, covering at least half of it on the first leap. Then he pushed again and made most of the rest of the incline. During the trip up, the horse and I seemed to part ways a couple of times, but we miraculously ended up in the same place. When we got to the top of the hill, Hector looked back and said, “Good, you stayed on.”

Later in the same trip, another tico, somewhat surprised that I would let a horse run, complimented me on my riding ability. I, of course, was feeling considerable pride at this, and Hector actually confirmed his countryman’s opinion and said that I was doing much better. I really appreciated this, because on my first trip I had been informed that I needed a mule, because mules are stronger than horses and also smart enough to keep me out of trouble. Hector allowed that I have graduated past a mule. Of course, I tried to milk this compliment for all it was worth. Wanting to bask in the approval of true horsemen, I asked, “So, what am I doing better now?”

I should have known. You see, Hector's basis for comparison is that he worked as a guide for about 5 years and had to deal with many gringos riding horses. He replied that I was a good horseback rider because I have not yet fallen off! With a business partner like this…

*We are Fred and Amy Morgan, originally from the USA. We bought a dairy farm in Costa Rica to plant trees in its pastures, then later caught a dream of turning all the land we can to permanently protected, sustainably maintained forest once the plantation trees have been harvested for profit. Along the way, we made it possible for our former partner to realize his dream of starting a business of his own in his native land. He is featured in many of the earlier stories.

To read more about Finca Leola S.A. and how you can also invest in trees and at the same time help with reforestation, go to Own Trees with Us.

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