Continued from Part IFor my two days, I was assigned to ride Ambátt, or little maid’s servant. Meike and I chuckled over the name, convinced that some male was responsible for this demeaning moniker. Ambátt, like all the horses, was well behaved and eager to go. I can’t believe I’m saying this: she was too eager to go. Unfortunately she was so hard-mouthed that to keep her in line and out of the poop-end of the horse in front of her, I had to haul on the reins with a force that I consider brutal. I felt awful to be constantly yanking at her mouth.Other than this problem, which most of the other riders seemed to be dealing with also, Ambátt was completely civilized. I came to the conclusion, after the second day, that at the very end of the tourist season, these horses are as stale as American tourist mounts. It’s just that their expression of boredom and discontent is quite the opposite of the dead-slow pace of American trail horses. And who could blame their impatience? For four months they’ve carried their lump-assed burdens—large and small, balanced and tottering—over Iceland’s punishing terrain. In another week they’ll be on their own, free to roam the Highlands till next spring’s roundup when they’ll be brought in, culled according to their brand, reminded by skilled wranglers of their purpose in life, and will spend the balance of the summer as working stiffs yet again.Once I gave in to tugging Ambátt back, she showed me her tölt. It was, indeed, a giggling experience. I could have balanced a raw egg in a teaspoon as we whizzed over rocks and frozen bogs. With her feet pounding like tiny pistons, I skimmed across the rough terrain like a hockey puck gliding over ice. It is difficult for an untrained eye to distinguish between a tölt and a trot. Eventually, I noticed that while the horses and riders in front of me glided across the terrain in a smooth plane, the telltale sign of a tölt is the horse’s tail circling like a spinning top. The sight can’t help but illicit more giggles.
Of the 150 or more horses owned by this farm, all must have good manners and get along with each other as well as with the motley horde of riders assigned to them throughout the summer season. There’s an Icelandic saying to the effect that, “If you bite me, I’ll eat you!” Icelandic horses, having never feared predators, are gentle and curious by nature. The rare horse with a disagreeable attitude is culled from the herd without mercy. And yes, horse meat is a source of protein on the island. I did see it on one or two menus, but I never got around to sampling it. (Whale meat is another staple protein for Icelanders. I did not try this, because I heard grim reports about how whales are harvested and the poor sustainability of the species.)Did I bond with Ambátt? I don’t think two days is long enough to develop a relationship. While I thoroughly respected her, she displayed an air of impatience. She was working the end of her shift and no longer had the energy to feel curious about one more stranger crawling aboard.
I was blown away by the unabashed energy, stamina, sure-footedness, and spirit of these hardly little animals. I appreciate the no-nonsense approach to horsemanship that is practiced at Kjóastaðir; brushing and fussing are minimal, the idea being to knock off the high spots, examine the animal for sores or injuries, throw the saddle and bridle on and be off. Despite the flat saddle, the ambiance was extremely familiar to someone who grew up in the heart of Wyoming cowboy culture. If I am ever blessed with the opportunity to redo this trip, I will spend more time on a horse. I would even consider the six-day trip across the Highlands, which involves sleeping bags and mountain cabins. As always, there’s so much to do, so little time to do it all!
allesistgut said:
As if I’m not familar with horses it’s very interesting to read your adventures on that Icelandind horse, Ambátt. Have a beautiful day. 😀
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rangewriter said:
Thanks for your loyal reading and commenting!
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btg5885 said:
Linda, I love the picture of the young, blond girl among the horses. Her blond mane, with head wrap plays well off the horse mane colors and backdrop of snow topped mountains. And, I love the happiness sign. Thanks, BTG
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rangewriter said:
You have a good eye. The blond girl was our rather taciturn wrangler. She’s from Sweden, I believe. She’s beautiful and headstrong. She would easily fit the profile of some of the ancient women of Icelandic sagas, who were as wild as the country they lived in. Thanks for your great comments, btg5885!
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sybil said:
Oh what a marvellous adventure ! Pity you were at the tail end of the season and the horses we “stale”. While I can understand eating horse meat (if we’re going to eat pigs and cows), but eating whale is beyond reason. I don’t know how they justify it.
Thanks for the lovely photos and video.
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rangewriter said:
Perhaps the horses were tired, but at least I got to see the northern lights. 🙂
Yes, what we choose to eat and not eat is complicated. Of course, I have trouble with the idea of eating cat, dog, or horse meat. But…I realize this is my cultural background and has absolutely nothing to do with nutrition and survival. The whale meat thing, I think that is a historical throwback to a time when whale meat was plentiful and all forms of protein were in short demand on an island with few mammals…(and few legumes!)
Thanks for dropping by!
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Glenda Hornig said:
Great pictures as usual! I love the beautiful shaggy little guys! What a great adventure!!
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rangewriter said:
For some reason, that little strawberry roan foal reminded me of Fireball! It was a great adventure. I’m so glad I did it.
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Robert Brownbridge Writes Stories and Poetry said:
You have a unique way of including us on your grand adventure with both your words and pictures. You’re not just telling/describing; you’re bringing me/us into your experience. Great stuff. Fun stuff.
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rangewriter said:
Thank you and you and you! 😉
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deansgreatwahoo said:
I’m sure enjoying your reports from Greenland, Rangewriter. What horses! And LOL on the forests!
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rangewriter said:
I think I’ve bled Iceland dry. Time to come up with a new topic. LOL. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
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Doreen Pendgracs said:
Cool pics! You still haven’t won me over with the lure of Iceland (I’m all for warm destinations) but I’m loving your photos and the spirit they are sharing.
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rangewriter said:
Oh hey, I get that, Doreen! Especially for someone who lives as far north as you do.Some people are built for cold. Some for warm. My travel companion came well prepared with warm clothes. However, I think she was really challenged by the cold…which didn’t even seem cold to me. Different strokes…! 😉
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alinktothematt said:
My life is so boring compared to yours.
Is it bad that I’m just a college student writing a blog and working on a book?
Is it bad that I’ve never ridden horses in Iceland?
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rangewriter said:
Your life is not boring. Don’t make the mistake of comparing yourself and/or your life, and/or your writing to someone else’s stuff. Remember, you’ve got a lot more years ahead of you than I do. Lot’s of time to dream up and live your own adventures. Actually, very few people have ridden horses in Iceland, so it is not bad at all that you haven’t done this. Heck, do you even enjoy horses or riding?
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alinktothematt said:
I was just using your example to prove a point. Haha. I wouldn’t know how to ride a horse if confronted with one.
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rangewriter said:
Well, I just want to make sure you’re giving yourself the credit you deserve. 😉
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George Weaver said:
What wonderful little ponies! They do look sturdy. I loved the video of them grooming each other! Great post, Linda!
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rangewriter said:
Thanks, George. Glad you enjoyed the mutual back scratchers. 🙂
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Sandra Parsons said:
I have to agree with Doreen. Although the pictures look enticing in a way I was cringing at the thought of spending 6 days in the saddle freezing my thighs off – and then going to sleep in a cabin. I did enjoy horseback riding in Guatemala but I have to admit that I am nothing less than an expert rider. It is very special to see these horses through the eyes of someone as adept as you, Linda. Thank you for the insight.
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rangewriter said:
Ah, sweet. I’m happy to share my joy, even though I know it’s not for everyone. That’s what’s so cool about us all, though. There are so many different ways to float our boats. Me, I’m not much of a beach person, but I enjoy seeing it through your eyes.
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Freud Fission Chips said:
Greetings from an African adventurer.
I happened upon your blog this morning and what a marvellously serendipitous discovery! Time constraints (for now, anyway) prevent me from savouring more than the first two chapters of your rather chilly equine expedition, but I lenjoyed your account and your photography immensely.
Having recently returned from a trip where the temperatures were 52C or 125F in the shade I confess that I’m not sure I’d survive those brittle-cold plains of Norway – well not without the obligatory fortification of porridge and appropriate clothing. However, thank you for a captivating account of your journey. I look forward to visiting again.
Best wishes
FFC
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rangewriter said:
Pleased to make your acquaintance. I just poked around rather randomly on your site and liked what I found, sophisticated humor…well, sorry, but I loathe American sitcom humor, so by comparison, clever humor takes on a rosy glow…interesting sights, tastes, and smells…well, I didn’t exactly find smells, but I suspect they’re there. Great photos. My mother visited Kenya when she was in her 70’s. She took a horse-back photo-safari and came back full of wonderful stories.
Glad you enjoyed my photos from Iceland. It was a camera troubled trip. First, I dropped my DSLR in the ladies bathroom. Ohhhhh. Then I had to resort to the iPhone, which does really well in some situations, but is mighty hard to hold onto with frozen fingers and a horse jiggling around underneath you. But it was an awesome trip. I hope to do it again some day before my teeth (or my brain) fall out. Thanks for stopping by.
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