Riding out with the Costa Rica cowboys
By Andrea Wady, Telegraph.co.uk

I was being followed by a man riding an ox. It was a big ox, complete with horns, but perhaps more worrying was the fact that he had a mobile phone in one hand and a drink in the other.

What was he controlling the ox with, I wondered? I reflected that this was not what I had in mind when the cowboys, who work for my husband and I asked if I wanted to take part in "The Costa Rican equestrian event of the year!"

I had grown up watching the Horse of the Year Show at Earls Court, and thought: "This should be great — and I get to ride in it". Upon asking what equestrian feats would be expected of me, I was given a bemused look and a curt: "You ride your horse!"

Central America is very traditional and Costa Rica is no exception; horses and farming are two cultures of which Ticos (Costa Ricans) are very proud. Unsurprisingly, women riders rarely feature in this very macho part of the world and this was my chance to show the local boys how well us English girls can ride.

Our decision to open a horse riding centre for tourists in the town of Playa Hermosa, in the country's Central pacific region, after decamping from St Agnes in Cornwall three years ago, has provided a constant source of amusement for the locals. So I had a lot to prove.

I discovered that 'The National Tope' is an annual event attended by all the country's top riders. Many of the most valuable horses in Central and South America take part. Television cameras transmit the spectacle into nearly every household with electricity in the country. Over 4,000 horses are ridden in this event, — at the same time. But this is no Horse of the Year Show; in the Tope, as had been indicated to me, you just ride and wave!

We passed along a four-mile route little wider than a Cornish country lane, bordered by a fun fair and 20,000 boisterous onlookers. All this, coupled with the fact that it was sponsored by Ron Centenario, (makers of some of the finest rum on the planet) and had no visible exits, made for a hair-raising afternoon.

Take the bull by the horns; There’s more than one way to get round the course at Costa Rica’s 'equestrian event of the year’

So I just followed the crowd, not that you have any choice when 4,000 horses all move off in one direction; you are going whether you like it or not. To say it was crowded would be an understatement of epic proportions.

There is no British happening to compare this with; the closest I can come is to say: imagine the Grand National with 1,000 riders and sponsored by Glenfiddich. All jockeys attending are positively encouraged to down as much as possible! They then set off around the course trying their hardest to stay in the saddle and waving at passing television cameras — all without spilling their drinks.

The 'Tope' was unlike anything I had previously experienced. Everyone was friendly; the cowboys cheered me and some Argentinian nobility teased me, wanting to know why Prince Charles wasn't better at polo! The overwhelming impression I was left with was a lack of the elitism which is commonplace in the British equestrian world.

Everyone here is welcomed from the famous and flamboyant horse trainers to the manual workers from the fruit farms. At one point, I had a breathtaking million-dollar Andalusian stallion prancing on my right side and a humble downtrodden mule shuffling along on my left.

My only saving grace, after four hearty rums in the midday sun, was that the procession was conducted at a sedate pace. And my alcohol intake was meagre compared to some of my fellow riders. I passed several people slipping quietly off their horses into the melee. Luckily they were always pulled out of harm's way by the jovial crowd, most of whom had consumed far more rum than me.

I got round relatively unscathed apart from bruised legs, life-threatening sunburn and the unwanted attention of a coffee grower from the Central Valleys.

There were no winners and no-one was being judged. For some of the riders, this was one of their few days off in the whole year, and they were making the most of it. But did I impress our cowboys? No, I don't think so; they didn't have time to notice me, as they were too busy trying to catch up with the scantily dressed "Ron Centenario Cowgirls" and trying to remember which cantina forecourt they had tied my horses to!

I'll be back next year and in my possession is the phone number of the distracted ox rider. He thought it would be impossible for a woman to steer such a beast of burden around that four-mile course. Well, us Cornish girls are not the ones to back down from a challenge!