by Cyndi Rowat

Poncho has been as much the family patriarch as he has been a 7- Time Peruvian Horse Association of Canada high-point Trail horse award winner.

At age 30, it is difficult to say whether he has endeared himself because he is a great horse for every member of our family or if it is because he has allowed us to be so successful on the competitive trail circuit here in Alberta.

One thing I can say for certain is some of my best moments with horses have come about because of this sturdy and proud gelding.

Poncho came to be ours only a couple of months after we purchased our first horse, also a Peruvian. They are like potatoe chips, you can’t just have one.

Certainly, there were many traits that made me frustrated in the early days. For an example, there was a time where I had to rally three friends to help catch him. I remember a tearful complaint to my soon-to-be hubby Brent, ‘I can’t teach him that I love him if I can’t catch him!’

I recall the horse-eating mailboxes that sent him into a tailspin in the ditches we rode and I recall his headstrong attitude on the trail.

I also remember so many, many rides. My first time riding alongside a herd of running deer and the first time I rode alongside wild horses – that was rather scary, but exhilarating. In any and all accounts, Poncho has been an amazing partner for all of us.

His career, as far as competitive trail or endurance goes, is not remarkable. His competitive mileage is not triumphant when compared to others in the sport, due to my family commitments and, in hindsight, the restrictions I placed upon myself.

But he carried himself with charisma and competed with such joy.

Poncho achieved several top accolades with our provincial competitive trail association, yet many of my fondest memories of our trail adventures together are not about the ribbons or the accolades, they are the stories of Poncho, our friend, competitor and Peruvian Paso.

One of my fondest recollections was of a harrowing incident on a training ride in one of Canada’s magnificent Provincial Parks. Only an hour from home, Kananaskis is a smorgasbord of beautiful mountain trails that exists only an hours drive from our farm. It was early in the season and I had an agenda. As we motored along on unfamiliar trail, we ran upon some snow here and there. After negotiating an icy flow that ran over top of the trail with running water flowing freely beside it, I thought to myself, wow, spring is here.

As we continued down the trail, the blanket of white became more prevalent and we soldiered on. The trail – or was it the trail, it was getting hard to tell - snaked along a small ravine and traversed along the Northern slope. I urged him on and he obliged.

Being only 14.1 hands, Poncho and I had forged rivers and swam in deep pools. His small stature suited me, his presence though, always made me feel like I was riding a much bigger horse.

Suddenly, we sank up to the base of his neck in snow. My feet hit the top of the snow pack. Poncho paused and hesitated. Small or not, Poncho was in a pickle. He lunged to the right and landed again in more deep snow. Then he lunged again. He wasn’t achieving the goal of freeing himself from the snow and, he was heading down the ravine, not back onto the trail. We had many years of trust between us – he had taught me the hard way to trust him more.

Instead of freeing us from the predicament though, he managed to get himself hung up on a downed log beneath the snow. He stopped. I jumped off landing well up to my waist in snow. My feet submerged in the icy water flowing beneath. I shuddered at the cold. I shuddered at my predicament.

My fingers worked nimbly and fiercely to undo his tack. I left it in a heap on the snow, untied his lead rope and secured it to his halter.

Removing his bridle, I assessed our situation. Straight ahead was more ravine. With a small river running beneath the snow and my horse already lodged on deadfall, it was not an option. Neither was going back. Poncho knew which way was out and fighting him to back up hill to dislodge himself from the deadfall was very unrealistic and unsafe. To my right and up about 14 feet was the trail we had been on before the corner full of snow. I positioned myself out of his way at the end of his lead. All the miles, the years we’ve spent together I hoped had created enough trust for him to trust me this time.

I encouraged him forward. He hesitated, considering his options I am sure. Maybe even uttering a few words beneath his breath for putting him in such an awful predicament. But shortly after my asking him to try, that sturdy little horse catapulted himself up over the deadfall and into the deep snow on the other side. I still have no idea how he cleared it from a standstill – the large log had been wedged at his belly. Seeing his out, he lunged to the right and up and up and up out of the ravine. I tried to stay a few steps ahead but fell behind and he wound up pulling me up and saving me in the process.

Poncho would never be the one to say he saved my bacon on that day. I’ll say this, once we got back to the grassy patch on the safe side of the icy flow that started my uneasy feelings, I broke down and cried.

Poncho’s days are a bit less eventful these days. He still loves to go out riding and though he isn’t as fit or as young as he used to be, he still wants to ‘go’.

He has always been an endearing ambassador to the Peruvian Breed – I have fond memories of our Reining to Music performance to Batman that culminated our first couple of years of showing. He was never the best gaited but to those who didn’t know about the breed, he sure could show them! I can’t even count how many riders I would pass along the trail and they’d comment ‘that looks like a nice ride’ and I would just beam from ear to ear and say “It Is!!” He competed every mile in the very first Peruvian saddle we ever purchased.

He is always a great ambassador to my favorite sport (and, I think his too) of competitive trail riding. Riding new and different trails 25 miles at a time.  

Always a perhaps overly cautious competitor I kept Poncho in the Novice divisions hunting an elusive win, until the year I got pregnant with our second child. Brent, who would have weighed about 50 pounds more than I, took over the reins and set about to prove to me that I was holding the horse back.

And to my surprise and great joy, he won that competition in Intermediate with my hubby aboard and we never looked back!

It wasn’t until 2002 that I finally got the courage to try a 50 miler.  By then, Poncho had been doing 25 milers for 8 years. He placed 7^th at that ride and in 2005 I tried again to do a 50 but his heart just wasn’t in it.

In 2008, Alberta hosted the Canadian Long Distance Championships. One of the events added to the line-up was a Ride n Tie.

Ride n’ Tie’s aren’t common in our area – we had only done a demo Ride n Tie in 1996, the summer our first son was born – it was a good reason to get back into shape….quickly. Requiring one horse and two riders per team ride n' tie teams start out together: one on the horse, one on foot. The horseman rides ahead and at predetermined spots chosen by each team, or just when they choose to, the rider dismounts, ties the horse and continues on foot. The other teammate mounts up when they get to the horse and eventually pass their teammate on foot again. This piggyback format continues throughout the race.

We decided to pull 23 year-old Poncho out of semi-retirement to condition him for the Ride n Tie.  With our culminated age between my husband and I and our horse we were a hundred and eight years old and the oldest team there by a long shot. But we were flying!! Poncho absolutely loved it; as soon as I got on him he was ready to go.

Close to the finish, and on foot for the last stretch, I could hear the cheers and I glanced back to see Brent and Poncho hunting us down. I caught Brent’s eye and I knew the chase was on – he wanted to beat me to the finish line…our own little extra competition – it was a photo finish at the line!

We placed 2^nd overall – two minutes behind the winners. What an exhilarating and exhausting accomplishment; a true fitting finish for the culmination of a distance career that spanned fourteen years.

Poncho celebrated his 30^th birthday last summer. We shared some carrots amid the August afternoon. His muscles are a bit flabby now from lack of work, but so are mine. He lives with his equine buddies and has nice big fields to run in and lay around in the pasture.

I am so very proud to say that because of him, I am a better horsewoman. He taught me so much of what I needed to learn.  

My family has been so blessed to be a part of this fabulous gelding’s life. Because of him, Peruvian horses will always be a part of ours.

by Julie Suhr

The one hundred mile, one day Tevis Cup Ride is recognized as the toughest endurance course on earth. Starting at Lake Tahoe, it challenges horses with 17,000 feet of climbs and 22,000 feet of descents in altitudes between 8700 feet and 1500 feet. Its heat, rocks, and river crossings test the physical fitness of a horse as no other ride in the world. I forced this challenge on my Peruvian Paso mare, *Marinera, on two occasions.

This small blue roan mare from Peru, without a buck, rear, shy, or stumble in her repertoire, brought me to the finish line both times. I may have been a good rider, but I was not a good horsewoman and there is a vast difference. The burden carried on her back was offset by her stamina, physical fitness, and courage. She finished 22nd out of 92 entries in 1966 and 24th out of 125 in 1968. I’d give anything to have had the knowledge I have at this time. I could have done much, much better!

In 1968 *Marinera finished 3rd out of approximately 60 horses at the Castle Rock Challenge 50-Miler and won the award for Best Conditioned Horse, defeating some of the sport’s biggest names. She was lame only once in the 24 years I owned her, after climbing a very steep hill with a gang of riders going much too fast. After about six weeks of rest she was fine. To the best of my recollection, none of my other Peruvians was ever lame or injured despite being ridden many hundreds of miles in rough country.

*Marinera’s progeny inherited her longevity. From this computer desk, I can look out at my barn, paddocks, and pasture and see where she lies with her daughters, Danzarina and Carolana—who lived 30 and 24 years—and her grandson, Carioco—who lived 24.

I had *Marinera for 24 of her 30 years during which she was the trainer and I the student as she taught me to become a horsewoman. She showed me what it was to be thirsty, hungry, too cold, and too hot—but not give up. It was a privilege to own her. Many horses have passed in and out of my life, but *Marinera is my email address as well as the name of my ranch, my publishing company, and the street where I live. If I had to describe her with one word, it would be gallant.

I think *Marinera was an exceptional Peruvian from the point of view of endurance racing, but I also think there are more *Marineras out there. I hope the lucky people who have them enjoy the breed as much as I did.

by Verne R. Albright

Following their children’s births, Ruth Catlin honored husband Chris’ request and sold her Morgan gelding. Later, Chris kept his promise and Ruth chose a black Peruvian gelding as her first horse in thirty years. After retiring at age 55, Chris picked another breed and joined his wife in what was a new activity for him.

“I’d follow Ruth on her Peruvian, and her only movement was a little side-to-side sway, while I was bouncing all over the place,” he later recalled. “In time I sold my first horse and bought a Peruvian gelding, CBB Alcalde. Suddenly, riding was the most enjoyable activity I’d ever tried. I found myself saddling up day after day for long rides, and soon Ruth and I owned 6 Peruvians.”

Later the Catlins qualified for Folsom Lake State Park’s Trail Patrol, which oversaw 100 miles of park trails. After serving as sweep rider during the park’s endurance rides, Chris decided to try his luck as a contestant. Weighing over 200 pounds in a sport where winners are usually half that, he was out to enjoy himself—not win. But he wanted to give a good accounting of ‘his’ breed.

Chris and Alcalde tried 25-milers and finished 11th out of 39 contestants and then 8th out of 38. Next Chris moved up to 50-milers. In his first 2, he placed 32nd out of 59 and 41st out of 59, then completed about a dozen more. Most ride veterinarians had never seen a gait like Alcalde’s. But their skepticism turned to respect. And fellow contestants—unaccustomed to seeing gaited horses in endurance events—were soon enviously calling out, “That sure looks like a comfortable ride.”

In 1996—looking for new worlds to conquer—Chris, Ruth, and another rider took 3 of their Peruvians on the Tahoe Rim Trail Ride. With 45 riders from 5 states, they crossed 6 counties, 3 National Forests and 2 states in 10 days. They rode through a raging hail-and-thunder storm, saw smoke from 8 different forest fires, passed a woman hiking from Mexico to Canada with a Llama, and counted shooting stars during their portion of the night watch. All 3 of their Peruvians were among the elite 18 that made it all the way.

Next year they finished the Caballeros del Sol ride in Arizona. A year later they competed in a 10-day ride in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, riding from Yosemite to Mammoth and climbing above 10,000 feet.

For 3 years Chris and Alcalde were one of 35 horse and rider teams that make up the Placer County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue Team. Always interested in new experiences, Chris also tried cattle drives, then parades where Alcalde’s high stepping style was received with enthusiastic cheering. Alcalde also won prizes at Peruvian Paso horse shows.

But going out on the trail remained his favorite equine activity.

“With trail riding, I win every time,” Chris explained. “Peruvian Pasos are widely-known for their smooth ride, but they have other important virtues. They’re easy-going, willing, eager to please, smart, quick to learn, surefooted, strong, and they seem to get along very well with other horses. Best of all, there’s no pain after being in the saddle all day. I wouldn’t be riding if I hadn’t found Peruvians. My only regret is that I didn’t start until I was 55 and missed many years of enjoyment.”

by Verne R. Albright

Riding in Idaho’s Snake River gorge, Cheryl Hymas and Judy Harrison decided to explore Devil’s Corral—several hundred acres and a lake inside towering cliffs. From the entrance, they saw an expanse of prickly tumbleweeds gathered below by the wind. Judy stayed behind while Cheryl rode her young Peruvian stallion, Expectacion, down for a closer look. Then something startling happened.

“She and her horse just vanished,” Judy remembers. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. One second they were there, and the next they were gone.”

The trail had given way beneath Expectacion. Moments later Judy saw Cheryl frantically looking for her horse in ten-foot-deep tumbleweeds. When she found him, he calmly waited for her to get him out of the mess she’d gotten him into, then followed her up a steep rock wall using footholds created by erosion.

“I knew he was sure-footed,” Cheryl says, “but this was a mountain goat! It wasn’t the first time I appreciated the Peruvian’s ability to negotiate rough terrain. My idea of trail riding isn’t to follow a well-groomed path. I prefer to strike out on my own. One time my daughter, Michelle, and I rode two stallions—Chatar and Avatar—on a narrow, ledge-type foot path blasted into a cliff above a lake. Without realizing it, we passed the point where we should have dismounted and led our horses. By then, the trail was so narrow we couldn’t do anything but continue as we were. I’ve never been in a more dangerous situation. Looking back at Michelle, I wondered if she was frightened, but she was enjoying it as much as I was. I laughed out loud, realizing that I love the dangerous parts most of all. How wonderful to ride with my daughter, who was equally unafraid.”

During summer Cheryl regularly rides 12 or more hours a day—5 or 6 days a week—in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area. For safety’s sake she seldom rides alone. People usually join her for a day or two and are then replaced by the next shift of companions. Many weeks, she and her horse wear out three sets of horses and riders.

Cheryl and Michelle once rode Chasqui and Fortaleza deep into the rugged Sawtooth Wilderness Area, where they shared trails with mountain goats and bighorn sheep at altitudes of 8,000 to 10,000 feet, as many as 25 miles from the nearest road. Several times Cheryl had to use the saw she carries to cut through fallen timber. They camped out every night and rode hard every day for a week—several times until long after dark.

With one difficulty and another, they fell behind schedule and arrived home the night before Cheryl and husband Forrest were to ride in Sun Valley’s annual Wagon Days Parade. In one of those amazing transformations Peruvian horses make so well, Chasqui and Fortaleza changed from trail horses into high-stepping, fire-breathing, crowd-pleasing parade horses the next morning. Cheryl and her group rode the entire route carrying full glasses of champagne to demonstrate their breed’s smoothness and were clearly the spectators’ favorite entry.

Cheryl’s other hobbies include taking photographs for post cards. “I’ve taken some best-selling shots of Idaho’s natural beauty from horseback,” she proudly reports. “You’d be surprised how many of my best memories involve Peruvian Horses.” 

by Verne R. Albright

Lynn Kinsky of Santa Ynez, California, bred Peruvians for ten years while her stepdaughter did most of the riding. One day Lynn decided she wanted to ride more and applied to join a Peruvian Paso demonstration group. She was told her gelding, El Sinchi Roca, wasn’t good enough to promote his breed before the public.

“A fellow at work urged me to get involved in distance riding,” Lynn remembers. “I took his advice and before long realized this was an activity where Sinchi could do a splendid job of representing his breed.”

By 1997, Lynn had completed over 50 NATRC (North American Trail Ride Conference) sanctioned rides, which she once wrote are, ‘in effect road rallies on horseback—not races. It’s an activity that simulates what the Peruvian horse was originally bred to do, and the fact that Peruvians are incredibly smooth riding is a huge bonus.’

“From the beginning, NATRC old-timers were extremely helpful and courteous,” she remembers, “but they obviously didn’t think my horse would last out his first season.”

Sinchi did better than that. He became the first Peruvian Paso to earn a 1,000-mile award. Four different years, he was 5th in the year-end standings for the Open Heavyweight Division in NATRC’s Region 2. On the way to his best-ever year in 1993—and in contention for a National Championship—he was kicked by another horse and suffered a broken foreleg.

The leg was pinned and eventually healed well enough that Sinchi returned to competition. But the long recovery had taken its toll. He never returned to previous form and was retired at age 16.

“After that,” Lynn remembers, “he was my pleasure horse, parade horse, mentor for young horses in training, and demo horse for people who’d never ridden a Peruvian Paso—as well as the horse I rode when marking trails and timing for NATRC rides.”

by Verne R. Albright

*Laurel’s owner, Alfredo Elias, an all-time great breeder, trained his horses on the trail—not in an arena. After *Laurel was 1969 National Champion of Champions Stallion, don Alfredo demonstrated the durability of his bloodline by sending the beautiful chestnut stallion to Peru’s national show on foot, to defend his title.

From Ica to Lima, *Laurel and Tate—a gelding—crossed 182 miles of hostile desert, averaging 26 miles for seven consecutive days. And *Laurel had enough energy left over to escape his rider, Juan Ortiz, one afternoon and joyously frolic in that barren, sizzling moonscape for hours before allowing himself to be caught.

Thunderous applause greeted *Laurel as he came down the road toward the arena where Peru’s National Show was already underway. With two day’s rest, *Laurel entered that arena to compete for Champion of Champions. He lost to a competitor that arrived in a truck…but won a place in equine history as perhaps the only national champion stallion of any breed to ever defend his title two days after such an arduous journey.

*Laurel was later exported to the United States. Following years as a breeding stallion and riding horse, he returned to the show ring and was 1981 U.S. National Reserve Champion Stallion at age 17, a year before his fatal accident.