Trail Blazer Magazine: Equitrekking In Ireland- Jan. 1, 2005

by Darley Newman


Upon arriving at Ballycormac House, a 350-year-old inn and horse farm in Tipperary County, located an hour from Shannon Airport, I was greeted by a peacock. As the sun shone through the clouds and a shaggy old barn dog waddled over, the peacock dramatically spread his colorful feathers. Now that’s a welcome, I thought.

My hosts, John and Cherylynn Lang, have owned and operated Ballycormac since 1995. John is an avid hunter and expert jumper and when Cherylynn isn’t riding, she’s cooking up scrumptious meals for guests. In fact, as I was told with a smile, “Dinner is waiting”.

Cherylynn is an exquisite cook, whose worst fear is that guests will leave Ballycormac hungry. You won’t. For the first night’s dinner, we feasted on homemade rolls and whipped butter, salad with avocado, chicken stuffed with Cashel cheese and wrapped in bacon, scalloped potatoes, carrots and peas. For dessert we enjoyed homemade apple pie that rivaled its American cousin. Most of the fruits and vegetables are organically grown right on Ballycormac’s grounds.

Over conversation at the table I met some of the other guests—a husband and wife, who are regular visitors to Ballycormac and another single woman from New Mexico. The jet lag started to set in a bit as I consumed another melt-in-your-mouth homemade roll. I knew that I needed to stay awake a bit longer to get on Irish time, so I headed out for my first Guinness at a local pub with John, Cherylynn, and the rest of the guests. Though I am not a beer connoisseur, I found that Guinness in Ireland tastes somewhat different than it does in the United States, and it wasn’t just because of the atmosphere. After a few sips of the thick, smooth beer, I was ready to fall into my antique four-poster bed and sleep until the rooster crowed, or perhaps longer.

The next morning, after a full Irish breakfast I was ready to ride. John assessed my riding level in the ring and said that Uncle Crunchy, a chestnut Irish Sport Horse, and I would be a perfect match.

If you are thinking of taking a riding holiday, check with the proprietors at your destination for a suggested packing list. A helmet and good riding boots are essential, but I also find gloves indispensable for longer treks.

Uncle Crunchy and I took a spin around the ring to get acclimated. The Irish Sport horses, John explained, are versatile, agile and forgiving. A cross between the Thoroughbred and Irish Draught Horse, Irish Sport Horses get the best qualities of both, the heart and intelligence of the Thoroughbred, along with the calm and sensible temperament of the Irish Draught. They can jump over the stone fences that dot the Irish countryside, hunt or just serve as great riding companions. At Ballycormac, visitors can choose from almost thirty Irish Sport Horses for trail riding, cross-country riding, and lessons in show jumping and dressage. The atmosphere is intimate, making riders of all skill levels feel welcome.

Our group was off for a 10-mile trek to Lough Derg, a mythical lake whose shores have been settled since prehistoric times. Lough Derg’s calm waters now offer a respite for many vacationers. I signaled Uncle Crunchy slightly and we sped off into a canter, through a sea of green fields and endless blue skies.

We seemed to be passing through lands that time forgot, as we ventured towards an old dilapidated farmhouse. Its short stone walls once protected one of the many farms abandoned during Ireland’s potato famine. I could smell peat, as John pointed to a local peat bog where turf is cut for fires.

The ride had not been much of a challenge thus far. Had we requested it, John would have had us jumping over the stone fences in a race to Lough Derg. It was our first day out though, so a simple race around the upcoming meadow was preferable. By the time we reached Lough Derg, we were ready for a cool dip in the lake. At first, Uncle Crunchy was a little hesitant to wade into the still waters. After he realized that we were the last adventurers left on the mainland, he obliged to head in, too.

As our horses drank, we watched the activities on the lake. A small boat floated out in the distance and a family gathered for a picnic at a nearby clearing along the verdant bank. During medieval times, Lough Derg served as a highway to connect the Irish midlands to the Atlantic Ocean. Visitors can still ride the river’s highways and navigate through the picturesque lakeside villages, where famous monasteries, castles, stores and restaurants tempt many to shop, eat and explore.

We rode into Terryglass for a lunch of fish and chips at a local pub. Terryglass has been voted Ireland’s tidiest village, a fact which came as a surprise as both we and our horses were welcomed into the courtyard of a local pub for a round of Guinness. I gave a “cheers” to Elliot, another guest, who was chuckling about having a horse at the pub.

“No,” he said to Uncle Crunchy, as the horse eased his mouth over to sample a taste of Ireland’s native nectar.

After a day of riding, John had a special treat for our group. We were heading to the Birr Equestrian Center, about 30 minutes away, for their weekly club game of polocrosse. Polocrosse is a hybrid of polo and lacrosse, which is gaining popularity in Ireland’s equestrian communities.

I hadn’t planned on playing polocrosse, but John had reserved horses for us all. Despite my strong reservations, John convinced me that I wouldn’t want to be standing on the sidelines. Once the game began, John was right. I tore across the field in a swift gallop, attempting to scoop up the large, white rubber ball.

This group had been playing together weekly for quite some time, so I stood no chance of actually getting the ball. I could barely coordinate controlling my reins with holding the stick, never mind trying to ride, stop, lean over, and scoop, while the better players hit at my stick. We played three on three and as for the rules, well, you had to be there. We all had set positions, like in lacrosse. I played the midfield, which had me cantering up and down the field to chase the ball. Being new to the game, I only caught the ball once in the convoluted net at the end of my stick. I was actually happy to have gotten it at all. Polocrosse is a fast-paced game that is not for the faint of heart.

I sat in the Jacuzzi that night, soaking in the hot water that I hoped would help curb my potentially sore muscles from an intense day of riding. I could get used to this, I thought. Of course I could. I was on vacation in this verdant land of horses, and I had four more days of riding to go.