Emily's Meren Stallion
I'm in love with a new breed of horse, the Meren. Actually it's one of the oldest breeds in history but a new and delightful discover for me encountered on a recent trip to Nice, France. I've always adored black horses. It must be a Black Stallion fascination and if I could have a riding horse now it would be a Meren. Little girls always dream of having their own pony and I guess I'm still a little girl at heart.
Shopping and the beach don't really do anything for me so I rented a car with the intention of going horse riding, and to the races at the famous Hippodrome de la Cote d' Azur. Horsie women are usually independent and stubborn enough to find a way and the GPS is the greatest modern invention of liberation. If I can drive in New York I can drive anywhere.
The staff at the Marriott front desk were helpful but horse riding isn't a request they often get at a beach hotel on the French Riviera. Most of the equestrian establishments in town were for boarding horses and arena lessons but it was a learning experience of a different kind I was seeking. Having searched on the Internet and found five places I had the French speaking desk clerk call for me. A Cheval Sur Les Monts was the only place that would do a trail ride. Trail ride was my request but mountain trek is far closer to the description and it's the best riding adventure I've had to date. If you think riding and Arabian in a Middle Eastern desert is romantic, playing "The Man from Snowy River" in the French Alps was even more fun.
The ranch was just below the village of Tourrette-Levens, a historical sight on the map which didn't name the road but there is only one going up the mountain, Avenue Du Haut Pays. After twisting my way up the narrow road I came upon a sign at the end of the driveway with a graphic of a horse's head on it and attempted to make the hairpin turn. I had to back up and try again thinking oh shit you have to be kidding me, I can't believe they keep horse here and we think we are tough in Australia. Earlier in the week I'd been to Gourdon at 4380 feet and frightened the life out of myself on that road. Why do I do this, why do I stress myself like this, why can't I be happy to wander around town, take bus tours and lay by the pool like everyone else?
There is nothing like the excitement of finding a new place and driving up, very up in this case. I'm always skeptical about what kind of riding establishment it's going to be. If I survived the driveway I'd be fine and driving those roads gave me some understanding as to why the locals believe in God. They must pray while they are climbing. I parked next to a horse van and a huge stack of hay, always a good sign. There were horses in yards on the side of a hill where I would not have imagined keeping a horse but then I'm from flat city, Perth, Australia and the Darling Range is no mountain. ALL of the horses and mini horses, had just been fed. They were fat and happy, THAT is what we like to see.
Merens eat breakfast in their pasture under trees that provide essential shade for the black mountain horse.
I was greeted by a couple of friendly dogs that looked scary, Alsatian Sheppard types, who escorted me further up the hill to the barn area. Kittens with short stubby tails played outside the office door and I was invited in by Emily, the proprietor and offered a coffee. I only decaf and that is pretty much frowned upon in France so I declined, I'm an excited tourist at the best of times.
It was early in the morning and there was no one else around. Emily must have fed all the horses herself up and down the hill, and she didn't have a golf cart to do it. She said I would need to move my car further up the hill oh shit. Her "Little English" was very good and although I don't speak a word on any language other than English, I'm fluent in Little English. My face gave me away so she offered to move the car for me.
When she jump in she said: "It's automatic, my first automatic."
We looked at each other in astonishment.
"You drive horses up these hills in vans all the time?" I said.
"Yes but we take precautions inside with the horses," she said.
French women have big balls to drive those roads. Sometimes you can't even tell you are still on what they consider a road until of course, you pass some guy on a bike. It doesn't matter were you are in France there is always some guy doing the Lance Armstrong thing on a bike. I think there are a few pissed off Frenchmen on the roads I left behind but what the hell? It would have been a lot worse without an automatic.
The cats were entertaining as we waited for more people. I was early as it wasn't far out of Nice. A couple of locals arrived, I was the only "American" tourist snapping photos like crazy. One lady joined the group with her own pony from a nearby ranch. Everyone could ride and although I'd never been up terrain quite like that I guessed I could stay on. I don't look as pretty on a horse as I used to but I still know what is underneath me, and they always put you on something bomb proof anyway and make you where a helmet. I hate helmets but Emily had a really cool one she said she bought in Italy. It was a crash helmet inside a leather cowboy hat. I've searched all over the Internet for one like it with no success. FYI the Italians make the best cowboy boots in the world.
Emily and her horse
"Annie, we pick horses now." Emily called.Which in any language translates to stop taking pictures and get over here. On the ride I totally filled up my cell phone. I would have taken a big camera had I known there were saddle bags on the heavy French western tack, not unlike the American version only without the horn. I hate western saddles too, because they are so big and unnecessarily weighty but trekkers seem to like them.
I didn't expect Emily to believe I could ride since I've little muscle tone these days and she assigned me a sixteen-year-old mare that had recently come down from the mountains where she was being bred. A true Meren pony/horse is born in the mountains and runs loose to breed without much interference from humans. That is how all good stock horses and Merens, learn to be surefooted which is their prize feature. So, like the stock horse, when riding them you just let their head go and they take you down the mountain because they know where they are going. Emily would love the movie, "The Man From Snowy River." She and her little stallion had a loving trusting bond you could see it in his big black eyes that followed her all around the yard as we tacked up. That's the type of devotion you usually see in dogs not horses. Emily was kind and genuinely caring of all the animals. A kitten got on the stable roof above her horse and she climbed up a tree to retrieve him.
"E is a leetal babee and we moost, 'e doesn't know." She said.
The kittens hissed at the dogs but were not afraid of the horses
We picked out the strong blue hooves of our mounts, which were all shod, and brushed and cleaned them before tacking up. It had rained the day before and they were muddy but this was part of the ride. The Merens have exceptional temperaments and were good to groom and it gave Emily a chance to assess how comfortable we were around horses before she got half-way up the mountain with us. On the walked down the steep driveway leading the horses they slipped a few times. You had to let them have their head completely so they could balance. Then we across the road and mounted. The horses wore hackamores, bitless bridles which would prevent a nervous or aggressive rider from pulling on their mouths. Mine was still getting used to neck reining Emily said. I never know what to do with the free hand but on this occasion I had an iphone camera. In any case Kaur, my horse, didn't really need steering. Although, a couple of times she wanted to take the more difficult step to the side. I guess she was used to having a foal with her and letting him take the easy step.
We followed a road for a while and reached the edge of a national park. When Emily said, "We go oop now, the way is very oop," she meant it. Over rocks and boulders and "oop" they went. I was smiling thinking it doesn't get any better than this, a Meren and country I never would have imagined a horse could go, and with such ease, it was truly amazing. I know people who have been around horse all their lives that would never have experienced anything like that. It was awesome and I was loving it, so worth the drive. Horses climbed like mountain goats as shoes clipped rocks that gave way underneath them but the sturdy little steeds didn't seem to be fazed with their heads low to sniff the ground. I wasn't worried because I'd ridden Australian stock horses and in their country they know what they are doing. You are not actually riding you're a passenger and you just have to trust them. There is a reason why early-man drew these horses or horses very like them on cave walls.
We stopped to rest the horses and the medieval castle in the town of Tourrette-Levens was visible.
Tourrette-Levens
Still further 'oop' in the national park looking back towards Nice you could see all the way to the Mediterranean Sea.
The view to Nice and the sea.
At the very top we rested again and water the horses at a well where Emily pulled up a bucket on a line. It was the first time I've ever done that on a ride and I was very impressed. We hadn't just been walking all the way, Emily led us into a canter whenever she though it was safe.
Emily watering a horse at the well
The wild flowers and butterflies were amazing, ones I've never seen, and the wild lavender, or savage, as the French call it, really does smell so much better than cultivated. I couldn't get enough of the savage lavender oil in the stores of the medieval villages. I'm a perfume junkie.
"We go doon now," Emily said. "The way is very doon."
Now your weight had to be back in the saddle as opposed to forward on the ride oop. I think the way down was even steeper that the path up but the ponies wore cruppers to keep the saddles from shifting forward on their round bodies.
I'm not a fan of big warmbloods, not that they don't make fantastic dressage horses and show jumpers, it's just too much horse for my pleasure. I like something closer to the ground and I'm over hotblooded ones that don't like to stand still. I didn't know you could get a small elegant warmblood. The Meren runs 14.1 to 15.1 hands but is very sturdy and placid, just right for 'this' little bear. Emily said the kittens liked to swing in the horses long tails when playing and they didn't kick them. I can see how this breed make great vaulting horses. Not that I ever vaulted or plan to. Apparently the Meren was on the verge of extinction in the 70's with only 40 horses registered in the stud book. Members of the hippie movement, who resettled in the Ariege mountains are credited with restarting breeding programs. I believe Emily also has many breeding horses in the mountains on other farms.
Back at the ranch we had to hand-walk up the paved hill and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Now I know what it was like for the horses. We unsaddled and hosed down our own mounts, which doesn't always happen after trail rides either. Being from a racing background I don't feel right putting a horse away without hosing him off so I was glad for the opportunity to give mine a bath. These black coated horses that fair well in server winters on mountain slopes are not resistant to heat. The cool water helped reduce their body temperatures. After scraping them off they went into stalls and were fed again. This time a mixture of pony cubes, grain and bananas, yes bananas. I've never seen that before but potassium is what they most need after a work out so why not? I looked in the feed bin of an empty stall and saw the left-over stones from fruit. My Welsh Mountain Pony used to eat fruit off the tree and spit the stones in her water bucket. Fruit was plentiful in the region I guess and Emily took very good care of her charges. You never stop learning with horses, I wouldn't have thought to give them bananas.
Bananas in their food
Scraping off after a bath
I didn't want to leave I was so enthralled with the Merens and their beautiful long manes and tails, such a great day. I highly recommend A Cheval Sur Les Monts, even for those who are very, very experienced it's something different like no other. I consider myself extremely lucky to have found Emily and her special horses.Emily's mini horses
Where I stopped for lunch in the old village of Tourrette-Levens
Once my strength returned I walked the hill to the castle stopping to see a magician museum, a prehistoric man museum and an extensive butterfly exhibit. There in the most perfect setting, the castle garden, a stage was being erected for an intimate concert that evening. How nice it must have been with a champagne reception overlooking the valley.
Contact: A Cheval Sur Les Monts, 708 Avenue du Haut Pays, Torrette-Levens
Tel: 06 82 45 66 20
www.randonnees-equestres06.fr
contact@randonnees-equestres06.fr
