Orlaith Duffy gives an account of the Gold Run Challenge in aid of the National Council for the Blind of Ireland

We thought we knew horses and what they are capable of, with most of us hunting regularly and getting into all the associated scrapes. However, this mountain-goat impersonation high in the Sierra Chicas in the Andes was truly unbelievable.

The rocks and rubble we were climbing were lethal. There hadn't been any mobile phone signal since we left Cordoba two days before, and as far as the eye could see there was no sign of life. All you could hope, as you looked at the sheer drop below and the jagged boulders all around, was that the train of horses would make it to the top successfully and that your horse wouldn't slip or stumble.

The adventure had begun almost a year earlier when a few riders in the Louth and Meath area got together to with the national council for the blind of Ireland to come up with a new fundraising idea. In the past 20 years the NCBI has run almost 90 challenges abroad involving walkers, cyclists and skiers, but this was a first for them – a horseback challenge. The word was put out; we got some great feedback, and before long had decided on the mountains of Cordoba in Argentina as our destination.

We soon had 40 riders signed up, and they were busy running their fundraising events, everything from hunter trials to coffee mornings, and garden parties to clay pigeon shoots. We met near Dublin airport on a sunny Sunday morning in November for a fabulous reception sponsored by Sharon O´Buachalla´s Leaseplan. Soon we were kitted out in our “team wear” and headed for Madrid , the first leg of the journey.

The door-to-door journey was 36 hours and we arrived at the Estancia Los Potreros after two hours on a dirt road from Cordoba late on Monday afternoon. The Estancia is a 6,000-acre estate which has been run by the Begg family, which has Irish and Scottish connections, for four generations.

Siblings Robin and Kevin Begg breed cattle and run riding holidays and cheerfully admit that they have never taken on anything like the NCBI challenge before. They use the native Criollo horse and the fabulous Peruano Pasos for their work in rounding up the cattle, doing the trial rides and teaching polo.

The Peruano is really something special, a horse that has been bred to go from walk to canter without a perceptible change of gait. It is incredibly smooth and comfortable and ideal for covering long distances without causing the rider any discomfort. Those of us who are fortunate enough to be allocated one for our challenge have no need for the blister plasters that are being passed around after a few days among those who are riding the Criollos!

On our first morning we are divided into groups of 10, each with an English speaking guide and a gaucho, a native horseman who knows each animal and their quirks intimately and, it seems, every rock and tree on the vast landscape. Three groups go out on a fairly easy three-hour ride to get used to the horses and to the neck-reining style of riding. My group is landed straight onto the polo field for a crash course in preparation for the polo tournament on the last day of our challenge.

The Beggs pride themselves on the level of polo instruction they offer and for the fact that you play a chukka on your first time out – no messing about on hobbyhorses for a few days as can happen at other establishments. The horses are extremely easy to control and Lou, the instructor, soon has to roar at the enthusiastic Irish to behave themselves. It seems that it is rare enough for her to have riders who are so comfortable on the horses after such a short time that they are ready and willing to murder one another with the mallets! Polo it is not – hurling on horseback maybe.

After a very pleasant lunch in the marquee the estancia has set up for us to dine in, we swap around and another group play polo as we meet the horses we will ride for the next four days.

I am given Azule, a feisty Peruano who can't wait to go. He dances around and stands right up as we leave the estancia but our guide, Jono Passaportis from Zimbabwe , remains cool and talks me through it. When my heart stops pounding I decide that Azule and I understand each other perfectly and we're going to get along just fine. As long as the gorgeous Jono stays close!

These are working horses, used to being ridden by Gauchos who round up cattle with great skill and speed. What we are doing may be described as trail riding, but it is nothing compared to what those words mean in this part of the world. The horses are hugely enthusiastic about their business and take off at great speed, going from a walk to a canter to a gallop in seconds, leaving us “serious” riders looking like sacks of potatoes as we rattle around and try to get with the programme.

Jono takes us to the “Top of the World”, the highest point in the area, where we marvel at the view and the remoteness. The next day the real part of our challenge begins. Until now we have only been warming up and we are about to face into some strong riding and the kind of climbing that we never imagined was within the capabilities of the equine. Ride leader Susanne Macken´s group set out first, the beginners looking nervous, but buoyed by her words of encouragement. Susanne, along with Mary Gaskin from Castlebellingham, share the task of leading bind rider Jim Gallagher on the more difficult stretches of the long ride ahead.

The terrain is unbelievably lush and green in the pockets and valleys we cross through at first, then changes into a pampas covered hilly plain before it starts to rise. It is like Conemara with sunshine, someone was heard to say, as the sturdy Criollo and Peruano horses picked their way unerringly, rising higher and higher. The hummingbirds and giant locusts of the lowlands give way to condors and vultures soaring high overhead as we rise.

This particular part of the ride was really tough, especially for the three beginners amongst us – hardly individuals who had learned to ride especially for the trip, and for the star of our expedition, Jim Gallagher from Dublin , who works for the Department of Defence.

At the top we pause and rest and look back at the hardly believable ascent we have just made, but our relief at arriving safely is quickly swamped by the thought, how the hell do we get down? But the horses know what to do and they are equally careful on the descent, their small feet almost dainty as they pick their way down the far side of the mountain range. We feel like true pioneers when we arrive on the valley floor.

Some of the gauchos have arrived before us and have a smaller version of our dining tent already erected and will call for all hands on deck later to put up our sleeping tents. For now we tie up the horses in the shade, strip and dive into the rock pool, heat and exhaustion forgotten. We enjoy the wonderful sunshine before heading for lunch and the second ride of the day.

The ride takes us on down the dirt tracks criss-crossing the valley to the historic church of Cadonga , a well known image used by the Argentinian Tourist board on many brochures. The ride back is fantastic, through a shady forest alongside a riverbed. As the light fades we see a few pinpricks of light and at first think it is the horses' hooves sparking on the rock. But the few became a few thousand and we quickly realise it is evening fireflies, a magical sight.

We have a moment of high drama when one of our group takes a tumble, due to a saddle slipping, as we negotiate a particularly steep rocky mountain slope in very poor light. The rider is winded but unhurt, and later we agree the fall was worth it to see the gauchos spring into action. They take off at speed after the bolting animal and have him rounded up in seconds and bought back to us with great flourish.

It is completely dark as we ride back to the welcome sight of a campfire, the aroma of huge vats of chicken stew and the sound of local musicians who have ridden in to entertain us for the night. It is 8.30pm , but it feels like we have been riding for a week since we set out from the estancia at 9am that morning.

Despite singing and dancing with the musicians till midnight , we don't get much sleep in the tiny pitched tents on the hard ground of the mountain side and we are all up and ready to begin riding again quite early. It has been wet and stormy during the night and the day is noticeably cooler as we ride over a mountain pass, a bit like something you would find in the Twelve Bens.

Lunch is a picnic in a thicket of trees and, when we remount, the horses are remarkably fresh and take off at a great pace. The riders on Criollos are complaining about their posteriors again and saying that those of us on Peruanos are having it easy. It is another long hard ride and, as evening falls, we start seeing signs of civilisation again as we approach the small town of La Cumbre, where we will be camping for the night in a disused old boarding school.

Despite our tiredness, the sight of town revives us and we are soon ready for a fix in the local bar and some shopping for souvenirs. Back in the school dinner awaits, along with some more local musicians. The guitar players among the Irish, real ones and air guitarists alike, are madly envious of the finger-picking skills of the locals.

After a while, the narrow bunkbeds suddenly seem very appealing and people drift off to bed early, once it has been established that school rules apply – boys in the boys´ dorm and girls in the girls´ dorm!

After another stormy night we head out on what turns out to be the longest and most difficult day because of the change in weather. We cross over the pampas-covered mountains, leaving behind a town with a decided British colonial stamp on the buildings before arriving at the town of La Falda , which is Germanic in its Architecture. Our lunch stop is at the almost derelict Eden Hotel, which had its heyday in the 1930s when it is rumoured to have been visited by Hitler.

The last leg of the journey back to the estancia is in sheeting rain, the clouds descending on the mountains with speed and reducing visibility to almost nothing. Surprisingly the horses are in remarkably good condition, still stepping out well and willing to gallop whenever they are allowed. It is in their nature to give everything.

We riders are less willing and it is a wet, bedraggled and miserable crew who stagger off the horses, trying to feel pleased that we have completed the challenge we set out to do for the NCBI. Two of our novice riders (definitely no longer beginners!), Paul and Ciara Moore from Termonfeckin, are elated and happy that they chose to support a charity and learn to ride to celebrate their 20 th wedding anniversary.

Our last day at the Estancia is taken up with the polo tournament, the final challenge for the 40 riders before going home to Ireland . Three of the groups have still to have their training sessions, so my group spends the morning on a last trail ride to a waterfall and rock pool at the edge of the estancia. We tether the horses in some trees and begin a very steep descent on foot down into a ravine wondering all the while how our VIP (visually impaired person), Jim, had managed it a few days earlier. Apparently some of the gauchos made human chains of themselves to protect him from the drop below.

The polo final in the afternoon is a howl. Croke Park has nothing on the shirt-pulling, cursing fouling, name-calling and general misbehaviour that is displayed, and that is among the women! As a way of releasing steam following a gruelling week, you couldn't ask for better, and all the riders promise they will be playing the sport again.

We finish with much splashing of champagne, the presentation of medals, and a final surprise. The Begg family offers to donate a week at its estancia for two people, worth €3,000, to the NCBI.

We are overwhelmed by their generosity and the wonderful welcome they gave us and promise that the newly named horseback fundraising arm of the NCBI, “The Galloping Gauchos” will be back. Hasta La Vista , Baby.