Three Elements to Bronco Babedom

As the Bronco Babes once again look forward to saddling up for another adventure it comes to mind; what does it take to be a Bronco Babe? Three words my friends can sum it up:  Fierce, Fabulous and Fearless.

To aspire to Bronco Babe status one must be Fierce.  Fierce in the face of adversity.  Challenges may come fast and furious from all angles, but a Bronco Babe forges ahead with a fierceness to overcome and prevail. Nothing can keep her down (for long).

Bronco Babes are Fabulous.  We may be covered in mud and manure.  We may be bruised and bloodied from all manner of tree limbs, thorns, thistles and briar patches.  We may walk with a limp and smell like linament, but we're still hotter than any Barbie around.

Finally, Fearless.  A Bronco Babe must be Fearless.  Not foolishly fearless.  Heights and snakes and creepy crawly things and not wanting to pee in the woods because you might get a bite in the rear or some funky fungus are all warranted.  But fearless enough to face up to their inner insecurities and push forward.  A Bronco Babe may be scared but not paralyzed.  They may see a horse that wants to throw them off, but rides it anyway. They subscribe to the edict that courage must be practiced.  It may take a pint of Guiness at lunch to keep going....but they do what it takes.

As our merry band of Bronco Babes prepares for flight, here's to good friends, good food and wine, a good horse and few harmless misadventures for laughs.  Put on your Bronco Babe Boots and Let's Ride!!

Pappardelle with Sweet and Hot Sausage Ragu
1/4 lb. pancetta, cubed
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1/2 lb. sweet Italian sausage, casing removed
1/2 lb. hot Italian sausage, casing removed
1 large red onion, thickly sliced
1 Tbsp chopped garlic
1 cup roughly chopped fresh basil leaves, plus more for garnish
1/2 cup roughly chopped flat leaf parsley
2 (28 oz) cans diced plum tomatoes
1/2 cup red wine
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lb. fresh pappardelle pasta
Freshly grated Parmesan, for garnish

Put the pancetta and olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat, and cook until pancetta is rendered, about 5 minutes.  Add both sausages, break up the sausage with a wooden spoon and cook for 5-7 minutes or until sausage is cooked through.  Add the red onion, garlic, basil, parsley,tomatoes and wine.  Cook for 30 minutes, seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.

In a large pot of boiling salted water, add pappardelle and cook until al dente (just a couple minutes for fresh pasta.)  Drain well and serve with sauce over top.  Garnish with basil and Parmesan.

Emeril Lagasse, 2006 (via the Food Network)

The Exquisite Equines of Etruria

By Epona

Horse training and breeding developed early on in Etruria. There is evidence of an interchange between the Greeks and Etruscans of horses and their breeding techniques. Because the Greeks colonized parts of the Italian peninsula, no doubt their horses came with them. Discovery of early Celtic horses in northern Italy show they were very small, although this did nothing to decrease the demand for them. Greek horses at first were of the smaller variety, but the lot was improved by the importation of eastern horses by 700 B.C. coinciding with the early equestrian games. The literature of Greek horses is best represented by the writings of Aristotle and Xenophon. Philip of Macedonia imported some twenty thousand Scythian mares, and his son, Alexander the Great, is said to have gained some fifty thousand eastern horses in the Persian spoils. As a result of the cross breeding practices, the larger bodied horses used for cavalry were produced.

During the more than four centuries of the Roman army's existence, it changed from predominantly infantry to one of cavalry led forces. Because the type of enemy they encountered changed on the frontiers (Persians who had all cavalry forces, the mounted Germanic tribes), the Romans came to depend on a counter measure in the shape of increased cavalry. The experts in this field, that is, the best providers of cavalry mounts, were the Etruscans. War horses and war chariots, (said to have been the inspiration for the Celtic war chariot), were not the only expertise of the Etruscans.

That the Etruscans were artists in many fields is evident in their beautiful workmanship of equine bridles and buckles and other ornamentation for their horses. The fine representation of animals appear on bronze horse buckles excavated at Vetulonia (c. 700). There are numerous tomb paintings of the beautiful equines throughout Etruria.

The importance of horses with the Etruscans is further indicated among the excavations at Murlo. A frieze shows a portrayal of a horse race. Livy writes that when the first games at Rome were celebrated in the reign of the Etruscan king Tarquinius Priscus, most of the horses came from Etruria. Indeed, the Etruscans used the area of the stadium of the Circus Maximus for horse racing prior to its construction by the Romans during the second century B.C. In the horse races in Greece, Etruscan horses nearly always were the predominant favorites.

Livy I, 35. in JRS LXVIII (1978), p. 138 Bökönyi, S. in Meklenberg Collection, Part 1, Data on Iron Age Horses of Central and Eastern Europe, American School of Prehistoric Research, Peabody Museum, Harvard University, 1968.

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Last modified on 02/14/2012 20:40:18

El Rocio Ride 2004

Coto de Donana Ride

OK gang - get set for the Donana (that's Donana, not Donana like Banana!) The Bronco Babes make a gallop across Spain.

A ride on sandy trails around the nature reserve of the Goto Donana, the largest and most interesting nature reserve in Europe. Starting in the southwest of Seville you ride along the pilgrim routes towards El Rocio, the international town of horses. The surroundings of Donana National Park offer pine forests and cork oak, dunes, marshland and hunting grounds.

It's true there are odd umbrella looking pines, cork oak, dunes, marshland, endless sand and scrub - all replete with human trash strewn underneath. Don't forget the indigenous dirt bikers that won't slow down for anything.

Day 1 - Arrival in Seville, dinner and overnight in a local hotel.

Arrival at the Seville train station or airport is about as close to Seville as you 'II get. Meet your driver, who doesn 't speak English, then be whisked PAST Seville to some industrial outpost on the edge of town. Bleak hardly begins to describe the atmosphere.  The hotel is clean and comfortable —just don'tplan to look out of the windows or go out the front door. But, resourceful troopers that we are, there's always fun to be had. Grab a couple cervesas, a deck of card, M&Msfor chips and poker in the courtyard fills the afternoon. Keep cheat sheets handy for reference on which hand is a winner.  Oh yeah — is it a Spanish thing for the deck to have no 8s? Finally, remember it's socialist poker — the person with the most M&Ms must share with the rest or us!

Dinner -you 'II learn quickly that dinner in Spain is brutal and not for the faint of intestine. Oceans of squid, mountains of meat and endless flan - all at 10pm.  This is where you will meet your guide, cook and housemates for the week. In our case we got Juan and Anka. OK, you might think that choosing a ride in Spain you 'd get a Spanish guide who could give you the low down on Spanish culture and the area where you are staying.  You 'd be wrong.  We got a German girl who's only doing this job to take a break from her real life in Germany. (Bad break up with a boyfriend? — who knows) She speaks some Spanish and some English, but translation is still ify. Not to criticize because her linguistic skills are far superior to any of ours — it 'sjust not what was expected.  Then there's Juan who is Anka's helper/cook/boyfriend/handyman. He is a Spaniard from Cadiz who speaks no English and will be living with us as well for the week.  When we meet Anka is exhausted. She and Juan haven't had a day off all summer. Her affect is not one of "Hey, glad you 're here. This week is going to be great. ", but "Let's get on with this ". She asks each of us about ourselves and the type of riding we do normally. Most give the same answer — we don't -want any loco horses to ride. Speed is fine, but no bucking or rearing. She looks at us like we 're loco. Obviously she wasn 't in Ireland with us. Hit the sack after dinner — there's nothing else to do.

Day 2 - Transfer to the "Pueblo del Rio" where the horses are waiting near the finca of the famous bull fighter Angel Peralta.

You 're driven to a country crossroad where Juan pulls off the road onto the burm.  We look at each other and are told our horses are here. Here? They 're in the large box truck (lorry) also on the side of the road. They 're unloaded — assigned to us and we begin grooming and tacking up. By the way no mention of Angel Peralta or even a greeting from the German owners of the ranch who delivered the horses.

You follow the tracks of "Hermandad de Sevilla" when she starts her yearly pilgrimage to Rocio. The "Camino al Rocio y a la Paloma Blanca" is world-renowned and the largest pilgrimage on horseback and carriage with participation from people all over the world.

Pilgrimage to and for what you might ask So did we - over and over. Even we Catholics remain baffled. Don't expect Anka to explain - she doesn't get it either.    In the shadows of the wide pine forests you reach Villamanrique, a small village that serves as a stopover and is also the home for our horses for the night. After a late lunch you ride to your home for the next nights in Rocio. "El Rocio" is a small village surrounded by pine forests and wetlands in the "Parque Donana". No paved roads, just wide sandy streets.

Home for the horses is somewhere different each night, but all have similar features - raggedy barbed wire fences, old bed frames for gates and obstacles like old appliances or car parts strewn throughout. The horses seem none the worse for wear, but we 're appalled — soft Americans 1 guess.

Then there 's our home for the week. Rocio is quaint. It 's like riding into a cowboy town.  We still don 't quite get that this is a very Spanish type of resort area.  There is street after street of vacation homes. Kind of like condos in Myrtle Beach. Families buy these houses for their vacation get-away or to rent to tourists. There are very few permanent residents.   When we arrive it is almost desolate as the high tourist season has passed.   We quickly figure out that Flamenco is really big here as every other shop seems to sell the outfits. Not sure what kind of house we thought we 'd have, but this is definitely rustic. Sort-ofa medium grade hunting camp meets bunkhouse.  We 're assigned our cots and begin wondering - Did anyone envision this? Am I a baby for wishing there was a bathroom closer to my cot? By the way, just who is this Virgin of El Rocio who is on every piece ofchatske available? What did she do? Is she "the " virgin? These and other burning questions hold our attention for the week

Day 3 - You ride across wide sandy trails to the "Palacio del Rey". Long canters under the pines before a last stop to re-supply the saddle bags, because the supply vehicle can not follow you today. The first highlight of the ride is you enter the Rocio, passing the large church and through the village to a copa with horses. At sunrise you may wander over to the Marimas to view its rare species of birds.

is the day we rode around the outskirts and through Rocio. On this ride we could view the lovely garbage infested farming patches that surround the town.  Quite depressing.  The most fun of this day was "making a gallop " through town and drinking cervesa at a horse sized outside bar.

Day 4 - Enjoy different types of forests, travel dunes, dry regions and marshland, as well as see a variety of animal species. The native reserve is completely closed an nobody is allowed to enter here, the only area you can visit is "Camino al Rocio". You have the opportunity to see this wonder of nature on an escorted tour with Land Rovers. The park keeper will show you the best places where animals can be observed: Flamingos, lynx, and hundreds of birds.

You have the opportunity is operative phrase -for an extra 20e each.  The best view on this trip is the park keeper — hot Spaniard in his natural habitat. If you go ask for Gonzo (Giafalma).

In the afternoon you saddle your horse for Vuelta al pueblo ( a round through the village) and the surrounding area.

Did that the day before. This afternoon we move the horses closer to the beach.  Wide sandy trails among the umbrella pines. Fortunately there 's not too much garbage along this trail.   We end up at a "ghost town " where the horses spend the night. Here we meet a "capullo " (crazy person?) who lives alone among the abandoned houses. No ghosts, just the ravages ofunemplyment.

In the evening your dinner is at the Atlantic shore with fresh fish specialties. Actually the shore is down the street and dinner is pork chops.

Day 5 - On your way to "Cabezudos" you cross the route of "Rocio chico". The village is well-known because of semi wild horses living in the area.

Riding in Sligo, Ireland 2002

Revised Description of Markree Castle Trail Ride

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Day 2: Riders are driven by Declan to the riding center in Carrowmore. (Hold on and don't look out of the windshield!)

Here in a large indoor ring riders are introduced to their mount for the week. Declan and Michael, the trail guide, spends the next hour or so evaluating the horses and riders and their compatibility. Then the group is taken out to the nearby pastures to test the control of the riders outside. Riders have the option of jumping over some cross-country jumps.

(Ok - here is where things start off ugly. Riders are given a horse - most of who don't like new people, the ring, contact with the bit or each other. Everyone, horses and riders, is shaking. An unexpected noise sets the rodeo in motion. Bucking, rearing, jigging, spinning and cantering off are but a few of the misadventures riders 'face. Declan desperately tries to restore order by commanding us not to canter and to get to the wall. Only a few are able to comply. Once deemed hopeless, Declan gives the order for us to be taken from the barn.  We look at each other in panic but follow as lemmings.  We naively reassure ourselves that these are professionals and surely this was a prearranged test and we passed! We 're told "Don't worry, the horses are just fresh. They 'II settle down once we 're out of the ring ".

Onto the pasture we go. Envision the scene - an overcast day, a mist floats along the ground and into the horizon.  We pass  through a stone arch into an almost mystical pasture.  Then out of nowhere trot two irate horses whose only mission is to drive us from their territory. They circle us, they taunt us, they kick at us. The scene that erupts makes the ring episode look like a cakewalk. Bucking, rearing, spinning and everyone takes off for the entrance. All but one who stands shaking in terror. Finally, all are through and canter back towards the road.

When asked later Michael says there was a lot of jumping but no jumps.  This is just the morning of the first day.)

After a light lunch we go for a 2-hour ride outside.

(Be sure to specify early who in your group has an aversion to mayo and who are the daytime vegetarians. Don't worry, there's always plenty of beer on tap to get you through -you 'II need it!)

This ride takes us through Rathcarrick woods and onto Gibaralter Strand for our first canters on the Atlantic shores.

(These horses feel sand for the first time and want to go. Michael tries in vain to impress upon us the importance of staying single file. Soon we 're off on our third rodeo adventure of the day. No one stays single file, horses kick at each other and chaos reins supreme. Again we 're told things we 'II get better. What an optimist!

We return to our hotel shaken -yet bolstered by the fact that no one fell off. How could things have gone that badly? Are these horses that wild? Did we overestimate our abilities that much? What excuse can we give to avoid going back? How can I keep from crying in front of everyone? Surely today was a test. Start drinking now, it's going to be a long week.)

Day 3:

Riders are once again taken to Carrowmore. We ride to Knocknarea mountain and climb to the summit to the grave of one of Ireland's greatest warriors, Queen Maeve (circa 3500 BC.) From this vantage point one can really appreciate the beauty of this corner of the Emerald Isle.

(UK, mountain is an understatement. Picture straight up, no trees on top, rocks and billy goats - th--"'-what we climb.  The panorama at the top is breathtakin we realize we must come down! Michael says they never left anyone up there but he doesn 't specify just HOW thev all get down. Life flight maybe.   We take to singing tunes from the Sound of Music. Do-a-deer, a-female-deer... .etc.

Singing becomes a mainstay of the week to calm the nerves. When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom Let it be.

Thank you Paul McCartney)

We have lunch at Strandhill, a seaside surfing village. After dinner, guests are given the option of going to Sligo to have a Guinness in one of our oldest traditional pubs where one is free to join in the sing song.

(Lunch brings the opportunity for another pint, quickly becoming a noontime fa\>ohte. A chance to go to a pub for more beer - can't miss that. Here we have the chance to loosen up the Germans. Drinking -singing-more drinking - what could be better? When they tell you it's time to close - don't beliwe them. Tell Declan vou want to go dancing and he 'II keep the party rolling down the street.)

Day 4

A day off for the horses that worked hard the last few days.

(Timed just right, since it's hard to ride with a hang-over and butt-rubs. Be sure to ask Michael for his opinion on you sweater choices.)

Day5

Have a large breakfast this morning because we don't stop for lunch today. We ride from Carrowmore through Union Forest (a large pine forest) and along old forest paths into Markree Estate. We ride through the castle grounds and to the stables where the horses will spend the night.

(First the thought of no lunch, and worse no pint, was scary.  We pack snacks as if we might starve.  Then comes the realization that there are no official "rest stops". Oh no - we have to pee in the woods! I seem to be the only one worked up, however, as someone who has been popping laxatives all week like they 're candy, this could present major problems.  The Uri funnels are useless in this situation. So much for useful products from the travel catalog.

We master peeing in the woods and staying single file on the horses. We 're much more confident and think that maybe we 'II live through the week. When we ask Michael for an assessment of our progress he 'II only say that the week isn 't over yet. I think he has doubts.)

Day 6

Our ride takes us up Ballygawley Mountain traversing old bog roads once used to bring turf down from the mountain. We pass Lough Lumman, a bottomless lake where one can often see deer grazing. A picnic lunch is taken here where one feels totally isolated from the real world with all its stresses and problems. After lunch our ride takes us through Ballygawley forest and to Carrowmore where the horses speh the night.

(So we start the ride with a story about a Canadian that didn 't follow directions and got sucked onto thebog. Do you think we were told this story because we didn't follow directions on the first day? Thethought of veering off the path has us shaking and canting "Skippy-1 'm scared!" A downed tree presentsanother challenge.   "When I find myself in times of trouble...... "

Once past that obstacle we make it up the mountain and to lunch.  Beer and candy fortify us for the afternoon.  More cantering in preparation for tomorrow.  Tonight we spend at the castle.  Lots to investigate.  I get a little creeped out, but I’m the only one.)

Day 7

Our last day’s ride is spent all on the beaches.  We ride all around the knocknarea peninsula from Kellystown to Culleenamore beach alon the strand at Strandhill onto Cumeen Strand across to Carty’s Strand.  This is a fantastic day’s ride – very exhilarating and physically challenging.

(Once again we’re met with a story – this time about a Texan that didn’t follow directions and rode off into a canal.  There’s no cause for concern at this point.  Skippy could be a cult leader and we’d follow him anywhere – hanging on every word.  It’s no a coincidence that you’ll canter most of the last day.  Not because you are mentally and physically prepared, but because at this point your butt rubs are so bad you can’t sit in the saddle.  The sound of “single file” gets us ready. 

Exhilarating and physically challenging don’t begin to describe the experience.  At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it’s almost a life changing experience.  For someone with intermediate skills at best, the completion of this ride is transforming.

Dinner and drinking conclude our stay.  Declan and Michael finally fess up what they really thought of us that first day.  Not a pretty picture.  We’ve come a long way baby.  Be sure to pack Prozac because Saturday will bring depression at the thought of leaving this beautiful and magical place.  Once here, you’ll want to return.  Happy trails until we meet again.

"When I'm out in the street, I walk the way I wanna walk.
When I'm out in the street, I talk the way I wanna talk".........BSpringsteen, 1980.
Welcome to the street in my head