Exciting arab horse riding through unusual Turkish landscape with Afghan guide

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What sounded like extreme weather came bursting through the bedroom window at around 6am this morning. I thought it was a massive wind-storm but it sounded weird and I just couldn't place it. The only solution was to look through the window and what I was confronted with was an invasion of hundreds of hot air balloons.

I have never seen so many balloons, the whole town was covered at every angle, it was spectacular to see... and Glyn and I were very envious. I thought at first that Glyn seemed better as he managed to come out and photograph the balloons, but a toilet trip soon made us realise that things were still not good and we asked again if our hotel would let us stay an extra night.

Glyn was still too poorly to go out and wanted to sleep, so I went out alone as he attempted to get better. I thought of getting transport to Derinkuyu but that was two buses. I thought of going to Uchisar, but being a Sunday it was ages until the next bus and to be honest, I wasn't that bothered about seeing another historical place, at least, not without Glyn.

Goreme was quite as all the trips start in the morning and all the tourists were out. Then I heard horses, I'd seen riding excursions advertised and all the horses I'd seen in town were in good condition, yes they were thin compared to UK horses, but then, so are the people here. So this was an idea of something to do by myself as I used to ride and do miss it (its so expensive in the UK and most places are geared to only children). I asked about prices in a few places and one of the good things about being a woman alone is that you can get away from the haggling by saying that you need to go and discuss it with your husband, that always ends the conversation nicely and you can escape.

By lunchtime Glyn decided that he maybe able to risk an overnight bus to Pamukkale, but was worried about being able to carry his luggage as well as himself to the bus station, so it was agreed that I would be able to carry the main luggage if he took the camera bags - we had packed light after all.

So I headed to the bus station full of hope of being able to move on, but out of all four bus companies, not one had space for two. And no one wanted to help. I came back to the hotel deflated. We tried look for alternatives to the bus online, but the planes were too expensive, the trains not direct, car hire impossible.... and all with Glyn still being weak, we had to give up on Pamukkale as much as we hated to.

So I decided that we should appreciate where we are and make good with what we had. We just about managed to book a bus to Bodrum for tomorrow (but it was almost full), if we couldn't get that, it would mean missing Laura's wedding in Kos, so we were anxious for a while. We then booked a balloon trip for tomorrow morning and a tour, hoping that Glyn was up to it. And lastly, Glyn was happy for me to leave him in peace as I went horse riding.

I was taken to Goreme Ranch, just outside of Goreme just after 5pm when it was cooler. I was given a one-size fits all hard hat, that would only give the most dim of tourists a sense of security. I know my travel insurance would not cover this. No one asked if I could ride or had any experience, so I expected to be given a really slow and docile horse. I mounted and we were off - no one checked my stirrups... or anything.

It turned out that it was only me and a guide from Afghanistan, he apparently had no family apart from his horse. I explained that I'd not ridden for a few years, and he took that in. He didn't have much English but assured me that my horse wouldn't rear like his kept doing. I didn't get his name, but I liked this guy. It was a bit weird at first, just the two of us and barely being able to communicate. But he knew what he was doing, he dismounted and fixed my stirrups with no asking from me, he kept checking on me and assessing my riding. And he had control of his nutty horse.

I wish my guide could speak more English than the usual "Where are you from?". I think he wanted to talk more, I know I did. I've not really met anyone from Afghanistan before, let alone spent 2 hours with them and there's lots I would like to ask.

I've not ridden such a forward going horse since I was on a riding holiday in Jordan in 2007. I'm mostly used to British riding school horses, who are so lazy that asking them to get a jog on is such hard and repetitive work, it really would be less strenuous to carry them instead of them carry you. Like the horse I rode in Jordan, Yildiz is an Arab horse who will keep on going forever and I constantly had to hold him back. I can imagine that a tourist with little riding experience would have been terrified, I do have a healthy fear, having fallen off in the past plenty of times, but Yildiz was a good soul and my guide had a constant eye on me.

We saw various scenery and stopped to look at a church carved out of a rock. We passed a group of riders with a guide that knew my guide plus hikers and quad bike tours. My guide stopped and picked me grapes fresh and dusty from nearby plants, which I shared with Yildiz after seeing my guide share his with his horse.

I asked if it was ok to go faster and we trotted then cantered, and then being as we were on nutty Arab horses, they wanted to race and it got scary and exciting. My guide steered his horse to block mine and slowed them down. I know that Arab horses will gallop until their hearts give out if you don't stop them. My guide constantly had his hand out to grab my horse's reins (just in case!), lord only knows how he copes with a group.

We arrived at Cavusin hilltop alongside the riding group we had passed. We dismounted and my guide's horse bolted past all the calm and tied up horses. Only the tourists were concerned. I went to look at yet another abandoned church as instructed by the other guide who spoke a fair bit of English. When I returned, guide number 2 was one my guide's horse as it leaped and bucked around the hill top dangerously close to treacherous drops that a Philippino lady was distraught about, why no railings? Indeed, they would never allow the public at such a dangerous sight in the UK.

I spotted my guide on another insane horse bolting off at the bottom of the hill, he's not one to sit around. So I chatted to the Philippino lady until I heard "MISS!" and my new friend said "That's you going then!".

Most of the ride back to Goreme was a very erratic and fast trot/canter. I'd not packed with riding in mind and only had 3/4 length jeans, on so my lower inner calves are rubbed red raw. But that didn't matter, it really was a wonderful experience, to go through such an unusual landscape on an Arab horse, the like of which I would not be able to get near to in the UK. I came back to the hotel with a big smile on my face.

Whilst I was away, Glyn had managed to eat some crisps and did seem a bit more chipper than before, so all in all, a better day than yesterday.

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