February 24, 2007 -- After leaving Guatemala (see my first postcard), our ship turned north for Mexico. Costa Maya is along the Caribbean coast of Mexico, about three hours and a planet away from the spring-break haven of Cancun. When the popular cruise ship destination, Cozumel, was destroyed by a hurricane a few years back, the cruise lines got together and invested in a port in Costa Maya. The town there is actually called Majahual, which used to be a sleepy fishing village until the tourism industry came in. Now all the former fisherman drive cabs--apparently it pays a lot better and takes a lot less work.

The port itself consists of a long concrete pier that is probably half a mile walk to shore. There you find the usual shops and restaurants, as well as beaches and a pool owned and plugged by the cruise lines. There also were a number of typical Mexican stands selling the usual pottery, hats, shot glasses and other tchotchkas--also overseen by the cruise ship companies. So it was a bit of a planned experience, and I was looking to get outside the gates and see the countryside.

I'd found out the night before that the riding tour I'd booked through the ship was cancelled due to lack of interest, so I set out into the port area to see what other opportunities presented themselves. At one kiosk I looked into a day tour of the ruins, but they looked similar to those I'd seen in Belize. After weighing my options, I decided to sign up for a riding tour--the same one that had been cancelled by the cruise line. I paid less than half of what I would have on the ship, which was an added bonus. I purchased a bus ticket (all of $3 for a large, air-conditioned tour bus) to the Tequila Bay Resort where the tour was meeting, and headed toward town.

After my trip the previous day in Guatemala, I was a bit leery of a riding tour that met at a resort. However, the guy at the kiosk where I signed up promised me there were all kinds of things to see and do there. I figured I had nothing to lose.

When I arrived at Tequila Bay, I set off to find a guy named Patricio who hooked me up with a key to a locker and suggested I sit under an umbrella until the ranch shuttle arrived. About 20 minutes later, the van pulled up and three of us got on board for the 15-minute ride out to the ranch where the horses were waiting.

At first I wasn't sure I'd made the right decision: Our guide, John Carlos, was only a few months off the boat from Italy and said he had never ridden before arriving in Costa Maya--though had learned quite a bit riding several times a day, every day for several months. His English and Spanish were pretty good, and he seemed to know the area quite well. He told us about Majahual as he carefully navigated around the deep potholes in the 40-year-old road taking us deeper into the jungle. The two other people in the van were a young couple from New York City that sailed in on another ship. The woman had never ridden before, though she confided it was one of her "life goals" to get on a horse. Her boyfriend said he'd been on a horse maybe once and was looking for a nice, quiet horse and a slow ride.

The horses at the ranch in Costa Maya, Mexico, relax under the shade of the trees. © 2007 Stacey Nedrow-Wigmore

When we arrived at the ranch, it was quite a different scene from the previous day: The horses looked well fed and seemed content dozing in the shade under the trees. There was a large pasture to the left that had some youngsters kicking up their heels and playing. All good signs, I thought.

The horses were a mix of everything from Draft crosses to Quarter Horse ex-racers from Tijuana. They were clean, feet were trimmed and they seemed happy overall. I was introduced to a flea-bitten gray name Paloma. I hopped up in the saddle, and our guide translated to me that I should be careful with his mouth as Paloma was sensitive to the bit. I found out early on that my horse was used to being a guide horse as he struggled to get to the front of the group. But he was easy and sensitive, and responded to whatever I asked of him, though he was indeed fussy with his mouth and not too happy about the bugs biting his legs. (John Carlos stopped to douse him with fly spray at one point, so he was happier.)