40 horses ahead, on the ridge.
Slowly up the hill towards the top of the herd.
Looking down at them, free with 100,000 acres of Argentine wilderness and the Andean mountain tops.
Time to go.
I yell a round up call. Each rider has their own mantra to move a herd. Youuuuuuu-whoooop.
Down the hill they scatter, the other riders wait ahead to keep the direction consistent.
The dust rises to the horses necks as we speed pass. We keep to our sides as we spin our reins around, making our horses go faster. To keep up.
Blurs of movement are kept steady by the mountains in front of us. We look at each other smiling. Free.
Without boundaries. Free.
The horse’s back opens up, the gallop is smooth, in step with each footing, moving with the herd, moving together.
Not in control or without it. Only in motion together.
Into the estancia, slower now, pat on the neck, thank you for allowing me to be as free as you.
Thank you for one of the deepest memories I own.