Wales by Rupert Isaacson

The Black Mountains rise abruptly from the lush woods and fields of central Wales, a long spine of steep-sided heather moorland criss-crossed by ancient drover’s tracks. The high country, which can have snow flurries even in summer, is very exposed and windy, but heaven to ride. The drover’s tracks follow the contours of the hills, allowing long canters ending in steep scrambles, and sudden descents where the horses have to sit back on their haunches and slither, the rider doing his best to stay out of their way. It’s rough, exciting riding - a bit like going hunting, but without jumping or spilling any blood.

Ellesmere puts together very small groups of experienced riders to ride through the Black Mountains and Brecons for between 2 to 5 days on good Welsh Cobs. One doesn’t have to be an expert horseman, but one should be able to canter over rough ground and be up to spending about six hours a day in the saddle.

Myfynwy, who leads the rides, is as Welsh as they come replete with flaming red hair, and she knows a good deal about the local folklore, as well as the ways through the mountains. One of her routes goes past a ruined house set in a secluded valley at the edge of the forest. In the 19th century Lord Powys installed his mistress here and built a special turf road over the hills wide enough to accommodate his carriage. The mistress stayed in the house into her old age and after her death it was never passed on to anyone else, but allowed to fall into ruin, Lord Powys apparently being unable to tolerate the idea of anyone else living where he had loved.

Having arrived in Llangorse the night before, one is introduced to one’s mount, and encouraged to feed, groom and tack the horse by way of introducing oneself; then one sets off from the stables in the village and climbs along increasingly narrow lanes they peter out on the open moor. From here the climbing gets much steeper, with ground so extreme in parts that the horses literally have to pull themselves up by their front legs. However, these locally-bred cobs are made for the job. As long as one stays forward in the stirrups and doesn’t tip back on the horses’ hindquarters, there’ll be no problem. Once on the high tops, Myfynwy puts on the pace and one canters for miles at a time, in and out of belts of forestry, occasionally followed by groups of wild ponies. Buzzards and the occasional red kite wheel overhead and the views open on either side, patchwork fields and hedgerows a thousand feet below stretching off into the haze. All one can hear is wind and the deep thumping of hooves on the old turf.

To my mind, Myfynwy’s best route takes one to the 12th century abbey of Llanthony, where one can spend the night in a hotel set within the abbey ruins. On both days one stops at pubs serving good real ale, the horses tied up outside. Again, at the end of the ride, one is expected to untack the horse, groom it, feed it, and put on the rugs that have been sent in advance by car with the luggage. Next morning one goes out to the field to catch the mount, repeating the grooming and feeding chores before heading for home.

If you have been taking riding lessons and want to apply your hard-won skills on the open moor, Ellesmere’s rides are perfect, because with groups so small - maximum 5 people including the guide, one can get tuition along the way. Myfynway lacks the bossy horsiness that often detracts from one’s enjoyment of riding - there are no barked orders or braying exhortations to ride better - only help and guidance if wanted. For those who really are experienced, the ride will not prove a disappointment: the pace and the routes taken can be made as challenging as one likes. Myfynwy has a couple of quiet horses for relative beginners, but the others are fit and forward-going, despite being well-schooled. After two days over the Black Mountains on Myfynwy’s cobs you will have learned something about how to cross-country on horseback.