The horse has always been man’s faithful companion in Patagonia. On its back, infinite distances were traveled, crossing pampas, rivers, and mountain ranges under a climate as untamed as the spirit of those who inhabit it. For weeks, gaucho settlers advanced guided by instinct and necessity, until that way of life became custom, and custom became culture.

 

A culture that breathes in every campfire, in every saddle strap, in the whistle of the wind, and in the gaze of horses. A way of living that transformed into tradition and today seeks to be inherited by new generations, so that its essence—made of earth, sweat, and tenacity—does not dissolve into oblivion.

 

“Tierra de a caballo” is a horseback journey organized by the rural tourism agency Aysén Somos, which invites participants to relive that ancient bond between man, horse, and nature. A three-day, two-night experience that traverses the open pampas and windy mountains of southern Chile, where the heart of rural life still beats.

 

More than a journey, it is a way of preserving who we are. Its purpose is clear: to keep rural Patagonian culture alive.

 

In its third edition, held in 2025, more than 130 riders of all ages and from all over the world participated. Complete families who, year after year, return to live this unique experience, woven with camaraderie, effort, and a sense of belonging.

 

The presence of children and youth transforms this horseback journey into something more than a simple trek: a bridge between generations. Through them, the aim is to keep the gaucho and rural culture of Aysén alive, ensuring that the legacy continues in the memory of the youngest.

 

Its creators, Francisca Stock and Javier Galilea, dream that each participant becomes immersed in this way of life: “We want those who participate not only to ride a horse, but to feel what it means to live in the countryside, share it, and respect it. To understand that here, in this land, tradition is not the past: it is present and future.”

In the early hours of the day, neighing mixed with the whistle of the wind. The horse handlers, with their finest gear, fed the horses under the first dawn of the journey. There was anticipation in the air: a new edition of Tierra de a Caballo was about to begin, this time in the surroundings of Puerto Ibáñez, following the “Estancias del Chelenko” route, where the wind gives no respite and Lake General Carrera—the second largest in South America—stands imposingly with its majesty, displaying its turquoise and pure waters.

 

Javier and Francisca, hosts of this horseback journey, welcomed the 130 riders with the serenity of those who know the way and the excitement of those sharing it for the first time. Men, women, youth, and children gradually joined their herds: adjusting saddles, checking reins, and greeting old trail companions. There were also new faces, coming from different corners of Chile and even from abroad, drawn by the same passion: love for horses and the longing for adventure.

 

We set off, leaving the starting point behind, to slowly enter the mountains. The first kilometers were filled with reunions and crossed conversations amid the sound of hooves and the wind's breath. They recognized each other, laughter mixed with the dust of the trail. There was a silent complicity, the kind that arises when the journey is shared, and the love of riding is celebrated. Because here, more than riding, it’s about accompanying the rhythm of the horse, listening to the earth, and letting the journey do its thing.

 

The first destination was Estancia La Pirámide, dedicated to livestock, with open views toward the hills that dominate the Ibáñez Valley. The route ascends along the hill of the same name, an emblematic massif in the area, at 1,743 meters. Halfway through, a beautiful lagoon with clear waters appeared among the scrubland and forest. We circled it along one side, advancing to La Pedregosa, the second field of the route.

 

After eight hours of riding and twenty-two kilometers covered, the group arrived at dusk. The horses rested, and most of the riders returned to Puerto Ibáñez, as bad weather was forecast for the night: strong wind and rain. The horse handlers, however, stayed to care for their horses, taking shelter in the stables.

The second day dawned radiant. From La Pedregosa, we set off along Lake General Carrera, that vast turquoise mirror that seems endless. The trail wound between ascents and descents through the Patagonian steppe, opening before us riders impressive views to the south and over the lake. From atop the horse, perspectives impossible to contemplate from any other angle were revealed: long single-file lines advancing through the hills, zigzagging over thousands of tussock grasses, in a spectacle unique to those who dare to live this journey.

 

There were also stretches of greater difficulty. The wind blew with force and constancy, and the slopes demanded precision and calm. On the steepest descents and ascents, the support of the staff and horse handlers was essential; with their experience and composure, they guided us step by step, ensuring that each horse reached its course and we could all cross without incident.

 

The descent took us to the farms of La Maroma, where an afternoon of rest and games awaited us. While the horses grazed, all the participants searched for where to set up camp, among the trees, sheltering the tents from the unceasing wind.

 

That afternoon was one of fellowship and complicity, a moment to share, converse, and recall experiences. As always, the elders told the youngest about their adventures, teaching them on the spot what it’s like to live in the countryside: how it feels to inhabit a culture of love, work, and a profound sense of peace. It was a true transfer of knowledge, the kind learned by doing: showing in practice what it means to live in the countryside and its noblest values.

 

We played “three-legged races,” where pairs ran with one foot tied and their eyes blindfolded, and we also had the horse handlers recognize their horses only through touch. Others formed pairs to play “truco,” that classic game of strategy and bluffing. Laughter was abundant, spirits didn’t flag, and the good energy, after a long day, remained bright. The sun fell slowly over the lake, and the day closed with the serene calm of simple things.

 

 

The third day began early. Although the wind gave no respite the previous night and many barely slept, spirits remained intact. At dawn, the troop saddled up again with the same energy as the first days, preparing to close the journey. The route continued through the fields of La Maroma, La Pedregosa, and La Pirámide, skirting the Palavicini pass. To one side, Lake Chelenko accompanied the march with its deep blue, reflecting the steady pulse of the group advancing, little by little, but at a good pace, toward the place where it had all begun.

 

Along the way, a group of guanacos suddenly appeared and stopped for just a few moments. Their serene movements, characteristic of virgin and free nature, gave us a unique, silent, and almost magical moment, as if nature itself invited us to stop and contemplate.

 

The wind, this time head-on, made itself felt with force. Gusts struck relentlessly, and advancing required patience and courage. Every so often, a beret flew off, swept backward by the wind. Each rider leaned over their mount, following the firm step of their horse, while the landscape seemed to slide by in slow motion.

 

When the sun began to set, the group reached the final destination, parading through the streets of Puerto Ibáñez before returning to the point where it had all begun. The smoke from a roasted goat announced the perfect closing. The fire, guitar songs, good food, and laughter blended in an unforgettable harmony. The conversation extended as night fell, closing the day with emotion and satisfaction. Once again, many of us completed the journey without incident and with full hearts, while others relished the joy of living this adventure for the first time.

 

Thus concluded the third edition of Tierra de a Caballo. Three intense days of wind, effort, and companionship, in which the youngest became immersed in this culture, observing how parents, mothers, and friends live and teach by example. A journey that not only traverses the landscape but inhabits it. Because here, between the horse and nature, what matters is not only arriving, but understanding—even if just for an instant—what it means to travel the same land as our ancestors, to feel atop the horse’s back, and to let its history pass through us.