Riding in Turkmenistan on the legendary Ahal Tekke horses
.Long blue shadows draw across the sandy track and the sun sinks in an orange glow, light picking out the wispy bushes along the sand dunes. A breeze cools down the day and only the soft hoof beats of our horses gleaming in the late sun’s glow breaks the desert’s silence.
The magic of Turkmenistan thankfully is still a secret. Very few foreigners came and so it retains it’s exclusivity. People who have ignored the usual and misinformed travel fears of this region find themselves enthralled. I have been seven times now and Ashgabat feels like my second home. The moment I saw an Ahal Tekke horse (Maksat) I knew that I had found what I’d been looking for. From then on I’ve only painted these horses and knowing the land where they came from and the people who bred them has been a revelation.
As darkness fell we arrived at our camp to the smell of fresh shashlik barbecuing over a wood fire. The horses were still quite hot from the 25 km ride, most of which was at a steady trot and canter. We took them to roll and as true desert creatures they clearly relished the sand. They are tethered by a head collar and rope and expertly pick their way out of tangles to avoid rope burn. Gelding horses is forbidden in Turkmenistan and apart from the breeding season, the stallions rub along together fine.
Once we saw a herd of wild horses and the magnificent black stallion certainly looked as though he’d fight his patch.
We didn’t bother with tents and since there were no insects or predators and the night was balmy we could watch the shooting stars, hazy with vodka and a delicious dinner to the low melodious voices of the men. The next day we rode on another 20 kms, the horses somewhat fresher than the riders and I wished I’d ridden in England at least once or twice before this trip. Stiffness soon relaxed with the steady rhythm of the easy canter as we rode in pairs along limitless soft sandy tracks.
 Autumn had just brought down the temperature from the fierce 50 degrees of the high summer to a balmy 30 but by midday it was getting hot and over the dunes we saw camels and a small hamlet.
 Turkmens are a proud people and this is manifest in the way they live. The mud houses were freshly painted and a tree in a courtyard gave shade to a family of chickens.
We saw within cool dim houses, women kneading dough and  roomfuls of watermelons.
The head of the village invited us to a mid morning snack of camel’s milk, green tea and freshly baked bread. The villagers keep sheep and camels, the women make carpets and everything is spotlessly clean.
We ate a delicious vegetable stew lunch and lazed away the afternoon on felt rugs shaded by an awning from the side of the lorry.
The horses staked out the sun ate alfalfa and slept, bothered occasionally by a passing donkey or curious young camels. All the children from the village came down to have a look at us and I showed them my watercolours and they made beautiful delicate pictures of birds and flowers.
 As it grew cooler, around four o’clock, we saddled up and set off again, another thirty km for our next camp and presently the sun was rising in a flush of pink and we returned via a large grey green lake edged with reeds to the horse farm.
Sha Mengli  horse farm has accomodation  in traditional turkmen yurts and comfortable western style hotel rooms with showers. There is a carpet factory next door to the stables and we watched women weaving carpets in a scene that must be centuries old.
You need to be able to ride confidently to fully appreciate these incredible horses and the surroundings, but it is possible to stay in a walk if you are nervous. There are various levels of comfort ranging from linen sheets and champagne to the basics, for which we opted.
 Holidays should be arranged through Ayan Travel since you will need letters of invitation and the bureauracy is quite complicated. They provide an english speaking guide who will look after you and interpret.
I love the mountains and having ridden through them in the spring was curious to know what the vegetation would be like in the autumn.
Katya has her stables  in the shadow of Mt Dushak, the highest peak of the Kopet Dag range and her nimble, sure footed mares pick their way through impossible ravines yet will take you down the finishing strait at Ascot on a flat area with relish.
We rode through wild and bare hills where the only sign of life in this prehistoric landscape was the occasional eagle or fox.
Turkmenistan is the holiday of a lifetime.

Bridget Tempest    September 2004

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