Meditation in the saddle.

Step by step in the Pyrenees: The old smugglers' trails riders balance on the border between France and Spain along. Your Wanderreittour leads over ridges and peaks, through fog and rain - and a fantastic mountain landscape.

 

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port - Once known only farmers and smugglers, the paths through the Pyrenees. And even today, on the mountains of France's border with Spain to be little people, but many sheep, cows and horses. All walk freely around. Passengers on a horse fit well into the picture.

On the night before departure for a week riding in the mountains there is a severe thunderstorm. Severe rain clouds on the edge of the mountains from. Also in the morning drizzles it yet. Wrapped in rain ponchos, the riders saddling the horses. The hoofs resound loud on the cobbled streets of the medieval town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in the foothills of the western Pyrenees.

Here begins the stage of the Camino de Santiago etzte on French soil. The famous pilgrimage route across the mountains into Spain. To tick backpacks loaded down with the pilgrims Hufspur. "Also they practice this kind of" traveling at walking pace ", as we are on the horse's back," ponders the Horsewoman Sylvie Chaumien.

The ascent into the mountains is hard work for the horses, the clouds around the riders group. From afar, are tiny white spots in the world to identify greenfield sites - the closer they turn to be a sheep. Your pastor is not far away and unable to pay in accordance with the beret and a wooden stick. "This ride through the French Basque Country is also a journey into the traditions of the Basques," remarked Sylvie at this sight.

Up to eight hours in the saddle

Lunch is on the Col de Munhoa, a peak 1021 meters in altitude, used in the fog. "We have a fantastic mountains surrounded, even if you do not see today," says the Rittführerin Sarah Dubreuil. In such situations only helps the imagination - and wine to warm up. At the end there - typical Basque - Brebis cheese from raw sheep's milk with black cherry jam, and then Basque cake.

From here the path winds through a beech forest in the valley. The rain has the loose soil, the riders get off in order to lead the horses. It is slippery, even for four-legged. "This is not the Champs-Elysees," says Debbie Williamson from the United States. "But it is precisely this challenge I like when traveling on horseback is constantly on the realities of nature to continue."

The group quickly internalized the rhythm of the week, a mountain tour on a horse: mount the morning, five, six and sometimes eight hours on the way, up the mountain, the mountain down. At the sight of the landscape is rapidly meditation in the saddle.

On a day the group rides on the French-Spanish border along which a barbed wire is marked. There is a green border with ferns, flowering purple heather and bell flowers. Far and wide is not a man to see. "In the past, transported here smugglers secretly alcohol," says Sarah, the rides at the top. Today, the drug dealers found new ways long ago.

The Pyrenees feet

Every evening the night horses and riders in a Basque village on the route. Whether Espila, Urepel, Saint-Etienne-de-Baîgorry or Ainhoa: The red and green half-timbered beams and shutters of their houses bite into the eye. The pride of every village is the area for Pelote, a traditional sport and the great passion of the Basques. A training class just loudly.

Although the leather ball quickly through the air shooting, the horse left here. However, the other not from the peace-making walking horse bit nervous as the day that two pigs on the middle of a mountain blocking the path. Because the path is narrow and no one may be, the rider in front of the boar hertreiben.

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Equestrian association in Aquitaine, France

Tourismusverband Aquitaine, France

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Po, France

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Meanwhile the burning sun, the horses follow a path close to the abyss. To stay calm because the riders, the confidence in his horse has - even if the air in their vulture circles. Your view of the mountains and valleys is probably not much better than that of the rider. Then the group reached the ridge of a mountain chain. The wind disheveled the manes. The Pyrenees are the tabs on both sides of the ridge is literally at your feet. The trail leads towards the west, and sparkles in the distance the target: the Atlantic Ocean.

On the next hill, a herd of horses to recognize. "They act like unicorns on a magic mountain," says Sylvie fascinated. The riders come ever closer to them and are soon surrounded by curious Pottok. "This is the old Basque horse race," says Sarah. "These small horses are robust with Urpferden closely related." As in ancient times ponies graze in the semi-original in a mountain landscape that is totally without fences anymore.