February, 6 - 13 2027

Estancia Don Joaquín

Corrientes, Argentina

Gaucho life in Argentina's untamed north. Lived, not watched.

Don Joaquín sits in the Iberá wetlands of Corrientes. It’s a family-run working estancia where days begin on horseback, meals are shared around one long table, and life follows the rhythm of the land.

  • Dates: 6-13 February 2027

  • Host: (me) Heather

  • Duration: 7 nights

  • Location: Estancia Don Joaquín, Corrientes, Argentina

  • Ride With: Argentine gauchos

  • Price: From US$2,100 per person

  • Weight Limit: 90 kg / 198 lb

  • Time in the Saddle: Approximately 4-8 hours daily

  • Riding Style: Multiple rides matched to experience and pace

  • Horses: Argentine Criollos

  • Accommodation: 15-room family-run working estancia

  • Languages: English & Spanish

  • Airport: Buenos Aires (EZE/AEP)

This is feral luxury.

The room matters.
The food matters.
The comfort matters.

But the real luxury begins beyond the door.

The horses.
The wildlife.
The open landscapes.

The feeling of being immersed in a place that still moves at its own pace.

FIELD NOTES

Sunrise comes early. By the time the heat settles over the esteros, everyone is already looking for shade. Then, as the light softens, the horses are saddled again.

More than 150 Criollos live here, each matched to a rider for the week. They’re working horses first, remarkably forgiving teachers second.

Some crossings are little more than a splashy canter. Others have you lifting your knees and laughing as the water gets deeper. Before long, you stop wondering where the trail is. There isn’t one.

Every afternoon ends the same way. Boots off. Cocktail in hand. A swim. Then absolutely no urgency to be anywhere else.

Wildlife is never scheduled. Capybara, caiman and hundreds of bird species simply appear whenever the esteros decide. I spent the whole week looking for rheas. Naturally, they wandered through the estancia while I was somewhere else.

You don’t watch the gauchos work. You work beside them. Opening gates, moving cattle, throwing your first lasso badly enough to earn a laugh. You’re going to eat dirt. Wear dirt. Wash off dirt. Then do it all again tomorrow. So be sure to bring multiple bandanas and oversized sunglasses.

The dust has absolutely no respect for personal boundaries.

Back in the Saddle

If you’ve ever caught yourself thinking, I’d love to do this… I’m just not sure I still can; keep reading.

I hadn’t ridden in more than thirty years.

Two years before this trip, I found my way back through weekly riding lessons… quietly rebuilding my confidence and wondering if adventure riding was something I’d missed my chance at.

Don Joaquin proved otherwise.

Of all the rides I’ve completed, this is the one I’d recommend first to riders returning after time away.

The terrain is varied without being overly technical. Throughout the week, you’ll ride across open grasslands, dirt roads, wetlands, and even swim with your horse through the esteros. Each day builds naturally on the last, and with roughly one gaucho for every two guests, guidance is always close by.

My first few days weren’t particularly elegant. The Argentine saddle felt different. The riding style was different. Everything was different.

One of the best things about learning as an adult is that nobody’s keeping score. You ask questions. You laugh at yourself. You get back on and try again. You’re there because you want to be, not because you have anything to prove.

Somewhere during the week, I stopped wondering whether I was good enough to be there.

I was simply enjoying the ride.

Looking back, the hardest part wasn’t getting back in the saddle. It was deciding to.

Of all the rides I’ve completed, this is the one I’d recommend first to anyone returning to horses.

Is this rider you?

If you’re wondering whether you’re ready, you’re probably closer than you think.

The Wild Edit hosted rides are for women returning to horses, travelling solo, or finally saying yes to the adventure they’ve been putting off. Every itinerary is personally researched and experienced first, so you can arrive with confidence and simply enjoy the experience.

Corrientes keeps calling me back to Argentina, and travelling with a small group removes an enormous amount of mental load and uncertainty. Transfers are organized, logistics are handled, and you’re surrounded by women who came for exactly the same reason you did.

It’s the perfect first step into solo travel.
You’ll still navigate airports, new places and a different country, but once you arrive, everything else is taken care of. You’re travelling solo, but you’re not alone.

Corrientes At a Glance

  • Esquina, Corrientes, in Argentina’s Iberá wetlands

  • One of the world’s largest freshwater wetland ecosystems

  • Grasslands, marshes, lagoons and native palm forests

  • Best riding from November to March (rides operate year-round)

  • Hot, humid climate with long daylight hours

Where in the World

  • More than 150 Criollo horses make up the estancia’s herd

  • Built for cattle work, heat, water and open terrain

  • Sure-footed, steady in the saddle and remarkably tireless

  • Argentine one-handed neck reining feels surprisingly natural, whether you ride English or Western

  • Around 20 horses are brought in and matched to each riding group

  • Horses are rotated throughout the week based on workload, weather and horse welfare

  • Their condition tells you everything about how this place is run

The Horses

The Family

  • Family-run estancia owned by the Solanet family

  • Guided by Josefina Solanet and the local gauchos

  • Working horses raised and ridden on the property

  • Small guest numbers with a highly personal experience

  • You’re part of daily estancia life, not watching from the sidelines

Estancia Life

  • 15 ensuite rooms sleeping up to 22 guests

  • Comfortable ensuite rooms with antique ranch-house character

  • Rooms named for the birds you'll see outside the window

  • The swimming pool becomes everyone’s meeting place between rides.

  • The kind of place you settle into by your first afternoon siesta

  • Fully all-inclusive — meals, wine, horses, and transfers included

  • Two rides daily, timed around heat, cattle work and weather

  • Long days in the saddle, several hours at a time

  • Argentine tack and saddle, ridden one-handed with neck reining

  • Come from English or Western riding; the horses sort you out

  • Open pasture, dirt roads, marshland and water crossings

  • Canters across open ground and through the esteros

  • Cattle drives, rounding up horses, horse cutting and lasso work

The Ride

The Wildlife

  • Rhea stalking the grassland

  • Caiman surfacing in the lagoons

  • Capybara families gathered at the water's edge

  • Golden dorado jumping at sunset, jabiru storks lifting off

  • More species of birds than you will ever be able to name

  • One lagoon you don't swim in (piranhas — and yes, they're real)


Out Before the World Wakes Up

You're up at 5:30 a.m.

Coffee first.

You sit on the veranda watching the sky over the wetlands begin to do something spectacularly unreasonable. You’ll become the sort of person who starts setting an alarm for dawn. The sunrises here are absurd.

Your horse is waiting.

As the first light breaks across the esteros, you ride out into the grasslands. The air is still cool, the horizon feels endless, and the scale of it all makes you feel very small in the best possible way.

By mid-morning, the heat is beginning to settle over everything.

You’re back at the estancia for a long brunch, more coffee and perhaps a glass of prosecco. No one here seems particularly concerned with arbitrary rules about appropriate drinking hours. Then comes the daily routine that quickly starts to feel non-negotiable:
A swim.
A siesta.
Absolutely no guilt about either.

In the evening, you ride again.

The light turns gold, then copper, then disappears altogether. You're moving through the esteros with water up to the horses' chests, the gauchos riding ahead as though they've travelled this route a thousand times before. Because they have.

Some days you're moving cattle. Some days you're learning to throw a lasso. Some days you're crossing open water in the last light of the day while the gauchos talk quietly among themselves in Spanish.

Low. Easy. Familiar.
You don’t understand every word.
Somehow, you understand the moment.

The Landscape Changes you

The closest comparison I can make is Montana crossed with the Okavango (despite having visited neither).

Big sky. Open range. Then suddenly you’re riding through a wetland with birds lifting off around you and water stretching to the horizon.

It’s subtropical. Warm, green, noisy with life.

The Iberá is the second-largest wetland system on Earth, with vast lagoons, native forests, open grasslands, and an astonishing array of wildlife. Capybara drift through the marshes. Caimans slip beneath the surface. The birdlife alone could become a full-time occupation.

And many of us gave it a respectable attempt.

There are birds you hear long before you see them. Birds so brightly coloured they look entirely made up. There are pink ones. Even their bills are ridiculous.

It didn’t take long before the gauchos started hopping off their horses to collect the bright pink feathers whenever they spotted one, handing them to us before climbing effortlessly back into the saddle.

Parakeets nest in the trees around the estancia, filling the mornings with noise. We became mildly obsessed with collecting their fallen feathers, often trying to beat the gardeners to them.

Not because we were interested in gardening.

Because feathers.

Don Joaquín is run by the family who call this place home. The gauchos have worked this land for years, and they ride alongside you throughout the week. You share the work, the miles, the stories and, eventually, a drink at the end of the day.

Meals are never hurried. Lunch stretches into the afternoon. Dinner rarely starts before 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. Wine appears on the table before anyone thinks to ask for it. The food is generous, deeply Argentine, and followed by enough dulce de leche to make leaving feel genuinely inconvenient.

There’s a cooking class if you’re inclined. We learned to make empanadas.

Some were perfectly respectable.
Some were absolutely terrible.
The ones at dinner put ours to shame.

A week earlier, finishing dinner close to midnight before setting an alarm for 4:45 a.m. would have sounded completely unreasonable. By the end of the ride, it feels perfectly normal.

That’s what makes this place different.

You’re not observing ranch life from a comfortable distance.

You’re part of it.

My first trip to Don Joaquin consisted of two pairs of friends, one pair of sisters, and the rest of us showing up solo — thousands of kilometres from home, in a country with a different language, to go horseback riding.

To go to horseback camp.

Which, when you think about it, is a wonderfully unhinged thing to do.

Around that table sat decades of experience, endless curiosity, and enough laughter to fill the room. If we’d put our heads together, we probably could have solved most of the world’s problems, but oversharing and stories over long dinners felt like a much better use of our time.

You don’t have to wonder if you’ll fit in.

You’re surrounded by people who thought, “Horseback riding in Argentina? Yes, please.”

One thing to expect is flexibility. The itinerary may change, but the adventure doesn’t.

When a heat dome kept us out of the saddle, we spent the day exploring Esquina instead. We visited Talabartería Doña Irma, where boots, hats, and belts proved far too tempting, and more than a few of us went back for a second visit. We learned to make empanadas, explored the river by boat, went birdwatching, and watched golden dorado leap from the water.

With the right people, even a change of plans feels like part of the adventure.

Book the flight.


Do the thing.

See what happens.

A week in Corrientes has a way of making one trip feel like the beginning of something much bigger. It leaves you wondering where you’ll go next, and how soon you can get there.

— Corrientes, Field Note · February 2025

 

Where in the world?

Maybe you've never done an adventure ride.

Maybe you haven't sat on a horse in twenty years.

Maybe you're wondering whether you're ready.

I wondered that too.

Whether you’re returning to horses after years away or already dreaming about your next expedition, I’d love to have you along.

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