Ever dreamed of being a cowboy – or a gaucho, the South American equivalent? We lived the life for a few days in the pretty hills of northern Uruguay and found a warm welcome down at the ranch.

Juan said I rolled my eyes but I am sure I didn’t. My husband and I had preceded the Intrepid group by several hours and were curled up on the shady verandah when they arrived. Suddenly we were a group of 17 people, all gathered in the wilds of nowhere for a taste of the gaucho life.

Gauchos are to South America what the cowboy is to North America, and they developed in much the same way: horsemen herding wild cattle on the plains of Argentina, Chile and Uruguay. Eventually the land was enclosed and the gaucho these days is confined to individual ranches or estancias, but there remains a strong culture, and they will frequently be seen trotting beside the road on their tough criollo horses which are descended from the original Spanish mounts.

Panagea sits in some of the prettiest country I saw in Uruguay, a land of rolling hills and gentle valleys only an hour northwest of Tacuarembo. Juan, our affable host, owns the ranch which was originally purchased by his grandfather. It covers 970 hectares and has some 1,100 cattle, 1,800 sheep and 74 horses. Juan classified it a medium size operation as ranches go and he runs it with his Swiss wife, Suzanne, and a gaucho, Bilinga, whose wife, Rakel, does the cooking. Our little hire car coped admirably with the 12 km of rough gravel access road which included one river crossing – apparently this can flood but there is a back way in so it is impossible to be trapped.

One hour from town but a lifetime in contrast. The estancia is very off grid: electricity is supplied only in the evening from sunset to 10 pm by generator and one is requested not to use a hair dryer or hair straighteners as it cannot cope. But if you are the sort of person that needs these, then perhaps Panagea isn’t for you – as Juan tells later at the introductory talk:

“We are a bloody ranch, not a 5 star hotel!”

But in fact our colourful room is more than adequate, comes with feather pillows and candles, and there are solar or gas heated hot showers. However, some degree of self sufficiency is helpful: ‘if the hot water for the coffee is empty, walk to the kitchen and bloody fill it up – this is not a crisis!’ Juan assured us that 1.7% of the group would hate the place but looking tellingly towards the Intrepid group, told them to complain to their tour leader, not to him.

DAY TWO

The next morning, suitably attired in gaucho wear thoughtfully provided by the ranch, we gathered in the corral. It all sounded more interesting when it came to the horse side of things: a sign warned us that it was impossible for them to foresee everything that could go wrong and to use common sense. Nevertheless, Juan emphasised the basics, to the extent of repeating them up to four times:

“Horses kick, don’t walk behind the horse: if you get kicked it is your bloody fault for putting yourselves there!”

“To stop, pull the reins!” This was also written in 7 different language on a board.

He demonstrated how to saddle the horses up gaucho style, with two saddle blankets followed by the saddle which is secured by a large girth. The trick is to pull this up as tightly as possible: pull it as tightly as you can and then some more. A sheepskin is then thrown on top and secured by another girth, creating a comfortable seat. Bilinga was there to help and after a final girth check we were ready to go.

Some half an hour after our arrival, a motley assortment of riders largely wobbled out of the corral. Our first outing was a gentle acclimatisation ride, giving us an opportunity to appreciate the sometimes rocky terrain of the ranch. I was impressed to see a stone corral which was very picturesque with its old walls providing a toehold for a variety of plants and cacti. A nearby wall was beautifully built though crumbling in places and a distinctive stone topped hill was the site of an old cemetery. Our horses were well behaved and it is to their credit that we were able to spread out and not follow a nose-to-tail regime.

After a BBQ lunch under the shady trees in front of the house we enjoyed a siesta until 3 pm when we saddled up again and set out to collect some sheep. In reality, Bilinga and his two dogs could probably do the job single handedly, but we enjoyed the pretence that we were being useful and I think everyone enjoyed the experience of taking part in genuine farm activities whilst on horseback. We were marginally more useful once we had the sheep corralled in the yards, holding lambs while Juan wormed them as someone else marked their heads to show they had been done. Anyone not prepared to get their hands dirty need not apply and indeed many were happy to just be fascinated onlookers.

Horses were then saddled again and the sheep returned to a distance field. There was one casualty due to a loose girth who thankfully escaped with just a bruised ego. Riding back to the estancia in the soft evening light, I think we all felt we had done a good day’s work and later we were able to compare notes over a hearty casserole supper, harshly serenaded by the ibis‘ putting themselves noisily to bed in the surrounding trees – indeed these also made a very good alarm clock, completely drowning out any gentler dawn chorus!

When the generator snapped off at 10 pm, I think most people were ready for bed and we nodded off to the now beautiful silence of a country night.

DAY THREE

The next day saw a rather reduced number in the corral as the after effects of the day before began to be felt, but those that remained saddled up more confidently and rode out to gather some cows. Simon and I were sent up to the back of the field but when we reached the far corner we discovered that a dividing gate had collapsed so there was some confusion as to which cows we were supposed to collect. With Bilinga’s help, we bought down a small reluctant mob, sweating with the effort under very hot skies – at which point, Juan informed us that we would have to get everything in from the field so we had to head back and start again. Most chose to wait under some shady eucalyptus as we sweated some more, my poor pony in a lather, but eventually the entire mob was gathered and we were able to take them back and corral them in the yard. Much water was taken at lunch as we rehydrated ourselves.

In the afternoon, the cattle were dipped to prevent ticks and some of the calves sent in a different direction for weaning. Here Simon’s outback cattle experience came in useful and he worked in the yard with Bilinga separating the different animals – I am not sure if any useful Spanish was learnt but they seemed to get on quite well together. It was funny to watch the cattle jump into the dipping water with a great plunge, though the older hands slid in more gracefully and were thus able to at least keep their heads above the water!

Another late afternoon ride saw us relocating the cattle which we had sorted out. We saw many nandu, or rheas, a type of South American ostrich – it is apparently bad luck to eat them, though not their eggs which has a perverse type of logic to it. The females lay in one nest and the male incubates the eggs: we saw one sitting very tightly as we rode past, his many feathers spread protectively over the eggs.

Once back, we took the opportunity to have a quick sunset walk to the old cemetery on the nearby conical hill. This predates Juan’s tenure and the plaques on the few iron crosses we could read seemed mostly to be from the early 1900’s but the place may well be older. Surrounded by a thick wall, with the most wonderful 360 degree views, it was a magical spot. Indeed, if visitors did not want to ride, there are some wonderful walks in the area with interesting bird life.

That night, people stayed up chatting by candlelight until well after the generator faded to silence – I think people were reluctant to bring their experience to an end. Juan produced a bottle of grappa con miel, a beautifully smooth grappa and honey liqueur – apparently the Vesuvio make is the one to buy.

DAY FOUR

People were flagging by this stage and only a handful of Intrepid riders saddled up on our last morning. We collected sheep from a nearby field and then took some cattle out which were left from the previous day’s work. As we rode back, it was amusing to see two of our erst while novices finally coax their horses into a canter, despite Juan telling us that gauchos never canter as they have to preserve their horses. It was impressive how far people had progressed in such a short time and a credit to Juan’s slightly unorthodox methods that complete beginners were now confidently riding off in the wild blue yonder at speed by themselves. In fact, they were so far ahead that by the time we had returned they had all unsaddled their horses and retired, leaving a hardcore bunch of 5 to sort out the morning’s sheep. Simon and I got dusty in the back yards, leaving Bilinga and a Dutch doctor to manhandle the sheep, treating them for sores and worms.

A final ride to take our sheep to a new field and our work was done. Juan said Simon could stay – after 19 years he had finally found himself a foreign gaucho! I was sorry to untack my little horse who had been a most obliging character; I watched as he merrily took a dust bath and galloped off into the herd. A final lunch and we were off.

Juan later emailed us to say how much he’d enjoyed having us which was nice of him. He added that he was just about to go to a neighbouring ranch with the aim of buying some more horses and that it was a pity we were no longer there to go with him. I think it was just as well: we may have been very tempted to buy one! A riding trip around Uruguay on our own horses – now that’s a thought…!?