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pippin
pippin
First Reviewer
4 out of 5
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1
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4
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Dig this pony ride

  • January 15, 2001
  • Rated 4 of 5 by pippin from Brooklyn, New York
Dig this pony ride

This three+ hour trek into the Sierra Madres is more than just sitting on a pony, it's a true adventure. We stopped first in the town of Las Palmas; sorry to say, it’s a dismal burg of cinderblock huts, roaming dogs and dirt streets. The locals came out to sell us things. A woman behind a table full of towel covered pitchers, drew back one damp towel to reveal a yellow-green slurry of pulp and water. I could only guess it was limeade. A swirling squadron of flies scattered. I passed on the limeade, as should you, but check out the colorful white-washed church in the center of town. We carried on to Rancho Camopo. Friendly and clean, I was immediately impressed by the pleasant staff and healthy horses. Our guide selected mounts for us and we were off. Our horses were short (around six feet) fat creatures with black and auburn hides. Calm and well trained, they trudged off on their own accord single file immediately into a raging brown creek, flooded from the previous night’s thunderstorms. The horses didn't blink, but plowed right in up to their noses. My horse, gentle Losario, struggled so that I was sure I was going to get swept away. This was just another day for Losario. We emerged unscathed, only to do it again a few more times. We carried on through lush jungle perfumed like Mexican spices. I saw huge grasshoppers and exotic spiders, purple thistles and sweet white blossoms, and butterflies the size of my opened hand. An hour later we stopped at a widening in the river. We’d have to walk the rest of the way. To what? I asked. The waterfall: an 80-foot thundering column of water. Amazing, breathtaking, and certainly, refreshing. We lingered for a swim, then off again up the steep mountainside. This time the trails were muddy from the rains, and were only as wide as the horses. What happened if someone had to turn around, God only knows. I began to have serious doubts again. I must have looked pale, because the lady in front of me explained that this was why our horses were so short and fat, they were built for mountain climbing. These horses could probably make this ride with their eyes closed, she assured me. How do you know? I demanded. I raise horses for a living, she said. Okay, I’d have to take her word for it, because I couldn’t turn back. Eventually we emerged on a grassy plain and were back, safe and whole, at Rancho Camopo. We were treated to a tasty feast of chilies rellenos, corn tortillas, beans, chicken, guacamole and cold beer in the Rancho’s pavilion. Situated in the Sierra Madres near Las Palmas, Rancho Camopo is about forty five minutes from PV. I signed up for this tour through the Fiesta Americana. Inquire at your hotel -- ask for the Rancho by name, they aren’t all the same.

From journal Traveling solo in Vallarta

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