Before I forget it all, I've decided to write down the details of my trip to Ireland this past April. I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to go with my aunt and two great friends and enjoy it while I was in my 20s. This trip surely would have been much harder had I been older, and I give my aunt a lot of credit for sticking out the entire journey. I consider myself a generally fit person and have weathered a marathon, but nothing could have prepared me for the hours spent on horseback in some of the most breathtaking country I've ever seen.
The trip was booked through an American company, Equitours, which put us in contact with a riding outfit in Sligo, Ireland. Sligo is located in the Northwest corner of the country, about a 3 hour train ride from Dublin. It is a lesser-traveled region of the country, spared from the throngs of tourists clicking cameras feverishly on Hop-on, Hop-off buses. According to one of the Dubliners which we ran into at the airport, "[Sligoers]...they eat their young up there."
The riding outfitter, Sligo Riding Centre, is run by the charming Declan. The main occupation of the centre is to train riders in the art of show jumping. Declan also sells jumping horses, and travels the globe to attend shows and rub elbows with some of the biggest names in the jumping business. The Ireland horseback riding tours are more of a side business to provide an unforgettable experience to tourists with riding experience. My horse riding repertoire included a bit of English riding as a kid, a lot of "hacking out" (trail riding) and a year of western pleasure riding on the UMASS Western Riding team. Of course, our riding team was the first established collegiate western team on the east coast, so we weren't very good. I felt comfortable on a horse at the walk, trot and canter, but had not had much experience really letting loose in the country and allowing a horse to stretch his legs. The description of the trip demanded a rider who could 1) ride confidently in English tack at all paces, 2) ride for 5-6 hours a day, 3) post the trot for up to two miles, 4) ride comfortably at a canter and gallop. It was a 7 day riding excursion which would take us from beaches, to mountain tops, to castles and back country roads with one day of rest squeezed in. I was more than a bit nervous in the days leading up to the trip.
My friend Leslie, a much more knowledgeable rider, recommended that I buy paddock boots and gifted me with a pair of full length chaps which became extremely useful on the trip. I brought with me an array of clothing for the weather, from under-armor type shirts to long sleeved cotton to North Face fleece and down jackets. The weather would be anywhere from 40-70 degrees, often rainy, and with its fair share of wind. Luckily, I packed the right items.
Day 1: You are collected and driven to your accommodations.
My aunt and I arrived in Dublin at 5:15am on Sunday, April 14th. In the wee hours of the morning, we took a taxi to the train station in the pouring rain. In our sleep-deprived and jet lagged minds, we expected the train station to be open and welcoming, with big cups of steaming coffee just around the corner. Unfortunately, it didn't open until 7:30am, and we hoisted our luggage up the frozen escalator onto the platform which opened into the train station. The doors were locked firmly and we hunkered down on top of our bags under a small overhang, trying to stay warm in the rain. A few strangers wandered in and out, asking us what time the train station opened, lighting up cigarettes in the slowly growing light. One man stood with us for some time, talking to us about this and that. He had just come back from a trip to see his daughter and was heading back to his home in Sligo. We stuck with him for the entire train ride, and he told us stories about the area as we went. He was the first of the extremely kind and talkative strangers that we would meet in Ireland. It bode well for our trip.
I snapped pictures like a typical tourist on the train, without knowing that the best scenery was yet to come. Declan met us at the train station and drove us to our accommodations in Sligo center, a lovely hotel called The Glass House. The purposely misshapen building leaned over the little downtown and overlooked the Garavogue river which wound its way lazily through the city. The river occasionally picked up steam after intense rainfall, which was inevitable at some point in the day. Weather in Sligo was extremely variable, changing from sunny and warm to drizzling in one minute flat.
My aunt and I went to our 4th floor hotel room which was laid out in lime green, tan and brown and unpacked our things. The real fun would start the next day, when we were matched with our horses for the trip. Later that evening, Kat and her mom Ruth arrived. Everyone turned in early to catch as much sleep as possible in preparation for the week ahead.
