In Copán Ruinas, we slept in a beautiful colonial-style guesthouse called Madrugada. It was far from our usual simple and cheap accommodation. Nothing from the outside betrayed that a hotel lay behind the facade — it looked just like a regular yellow house with no signs.
But once you gathered enough courage to step inside, you could take a glimpse of how the household of a former tobacco plantation owner looked like. The rooms formed a semi-circle around the green wild garden, which stretched until the river bend somewhere down the hill. The garden formed a proper mini jungle with all kinds of plants- a lot of them had pretty colourful blooms. Often, you could see the caretaker of the house, a tall man with a bush-like moustache, watering the plants or taking care of the green corner.
The common area, a shared balcony with straw furniture, hammocks and boardgames, screamed peace and relaxation. When we entered our room, we were pleasantly surprised. It was clean and spacious, whitewashed walls decorated with pictures. Everything was stylish and fitting so that it felt to me that I was transported back to our grandparents times.
Clip-clop, clip-clop behind the window
If you’re familiar with our blog, you can be surprised at our choice. Whatever happened with the stingy nomads who slept in humid concrete cells? Well, Workaway happened. To stay in this historical household, we had to mop the corridor floors every other day. Which left us plenty of time to roam the streets of the cute town we resided in, Copán Ruinas. It was definitely our favourite Workaway experience.
But let’s go back to our room now. It was early, the curtains were still drawn, and we slept between crisp white sheets. It was quiet. All we could hear was our breathing. All of a sudden a loud clip-clop, clip-clop woke me from my sleep. Horses walked on the cobblestones just behind our window.
I couldn’t fall asleep anymore. After all, it was the day we too were going for a horse riding trip to the nearby hills.
Horses in the workshop
I have to make one thing clear here. I have never been one of these girls who go crazy about horses. The ones who annoy their parents endlessly, talking about how much they want to take horse riding courses. Or worse, demand a pony as a birthday gift. Sure, I had my pony as a 10-year-old, a pink toy that I loved. I also remember a trip to the zoo when my sister and I sat on horses. And on the picture, I’m smiling my biggest smile. So surely horses were a big thing, I was just not obsessed with them.
I managed to grow up and travel a bit without any close contact with a horse until our trip to Central-America. Or, to be more precise, until we volunteered in Guatemala.
We had chosen to do Workaway in Poptun because we heard other Workawayers talk about how they rode horses there. And surely, we worked very closely to the horses. Sometimes they peeked into our workshop. At other times they pushed their noses against us to take a better look of our work. Occasionally, they just plainly barged through the workshop for god only knows why. Probably to find better grass somewhere they shouldn’t have gone.
But horse riding was the thing that didn’t happen back then. The one time when we got close to going on a trip with guests, I was in no condition to jump on a horse and discover the cave systems. Bad diarrhoea forced me to spend more time on the toilet than I would have liked to.
But something had shifted inside of me. I started to feel that I would really like to try horse riding. And from then on, I put all my hope in Honduras where, according to Lonely Planet, outdoor activities are cheaper than in any of its neighbouring countries. And of course, we didn’t leave this piece of information unused. We rented a kayak in lake Yoyoa, booked a bird watching trip there as well, rented bicycles in Utila and took a kayak to go to find a lonely beach.
So no wonder that as soon we saw that the travellers’ cafe ViaVia offers horse riding in Copán, we decided to go for it.
Mariposa, Rei and Niño
In the morning when we heard the horse behind our door, I felt nervous. After all, horses are tall, and they’re no bicycles or motorbikes. They are animals with their own mind, instincts and fears. What if the horse would get scared or would fall? These were the things I worried about.
My stupid habit to research everything I do before didn’t help much either. For example, an article about what to wear when you go horse riding gave me bloodcurdling information that I shouldn’t wear any scarves or I can accidentally hang myself should I fall from the horse. Great! One more thing to worry about.
Instead of making horror stories in my head, I should have just listened to the kind owner of ViaVia, who said that even his mum did it. And once I saw my horse, a little brown beast with long bangs covering his eyes, I was much calmer. Niño (child) was just a tiny bit taller than a pony and seemed harmless.
There were two more horses tied to the fence when we arrived: Mariposa (butterfly) and Rei (king). Next to the horses stood their owner, an old man with a cowboy hat. He said he had eight horses and we could really see the experience shining in the man’s eyes. He gave us a brief overview of how to stop the horse and how to make it turn left and right.
Horse riding in Copán Ruinas
It didn’t sound too complicated so we jumped on our horses. Once we got used to the new way of moving, it honestly was not scary at all. Or maybe Niño was so small that I sat not too high from the ground. In modern dance classes, I have been practising a lot how to fall, so maybe I could use this skill if things would go really bad? Later, we learned also that people in Copán use smaller horses because it’s easier to navigate them through the hilly landscape.
Anyway, it seemed like my horse was smart. He reacted nicely to every stop sign. I guess he was even smarter than me because even when I messed up my left and right, he could turn the right way. Thank you, Niño, for ignoring all the false signals I gave you.
We walked quite peacefully, but sometimes the guide still hurried our horses, and they galloped, or at least that was how it felt. That was pretty scary- I was literally jumping on top of Niño. Did I tell you already that Niño was a black horse? And that in spite of his cuteness, he also had an evil side. It turned out he was no angel — every now and then, he enjoyed bullying Tom’s horse Rei. So Niño pushed Rei to the other side of the road until the poor (but much bigger) horse didn’t have anywhere to go. Also, Niño often snorted loudly. “Don’t let him behave badly,” the guide said. But I don’t remember anymore what I had to do to make him behave better.
Bombas
After an hour of enjoying the peace and beautiful nature, we reached La Pintada, a small Maya village. The peace was brushed from the earth as if it had never been there. A rowdy gang of children welcomed us with bombas (firecrackers) and tried to sell us cheap mass-produced handicrafts.
A regular reader of this blog is probably aware that we really hate bombas. I don’t mind fireworks in the darkness, and I can admire the patterns drawn into the sky. But making a lot of noise with seemingly no other aim than to make noise- no, not our thing. I flinch at every loud sound, and when I see somebody throwing bombas, I just want to go back and take another street. Sounds bad, right? It’s a thousand times worse when you’re on top of a horse. Because the poor animal is even more scared than you. My poor Niño jumped of horror. It was not pleasant to sit on a top of a scared horse. So our guide attached the horses on the fence, tried to explain to children that they shouldn’t make so much noise, and we continued on foot.
We checked out a sacred place for Mayas in the mountains. There were plenty of stones and sculptures where Mayas used to pray. Looking to the other side, we could see the archaeological site of Copán Ruinas through the trunks of the trees. A pretty impressive and special moment. It’s always so cool to see the touristic site from another angle, as a part of a landscape instead of something that looks like it’s built for tourists. Standing here, the ruins felt almost like a living thing, something that the village people have seen since they were born. But have they actually been there, climbed and touched the ancient stones? Probably not. Doesn’t matter that they are Maya, the successors of people who once built it. Now some other people make money off their heritage.
Slowly, we turned back to our horses, to descend the mountain, and find our way from the long-gone civilisation back to a small bustling town in the 21st century.
Horse riding in Copán Ruinas: practical
Price? 15 USD per person for 2,5 hours. Book with Via Via Copán.