Riding High

On a six-day sojourn in Andalusia, Catherine Buni immerses herself in one of Spain's most majesticand vulnerable-national parks.

ANDALUSIA'S DOÑANA NATIONAL PARK-an almost 270,000acre expanse of wetlands, juniper-carpeted sand dunes, forest, and heath-is too diverse for a drive-by, too vast to explore on foot. That's why, on a bright spring morning, I was sitting on a young horse named Morito, who stood knee-deep in a rushing stream. Breathing in the park's sweet air, I reached under his mane and gave his neck a scratch as he drank the cool water. When he'd had his fill, I gathered my reins and Morito leaped up the bank, his coat glistening in the sun. One by one, our group of nine-hailing from France, Haiti, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the U.S.-let their horses pause for refreshment.

Back on dry ground, a grassland dotted with wildflowers stretched before us, and with our host María Elena Dendaluce in the lead, we broke into a run. When we reached a dappled patch of cork-oak trees, Morito cleared fallen branches with ease, keeping pace with a leaping red deer. Farther along, we spotted a wild boar family, the piglets snuffling for roots and nuts beneath a cluster of umbrella pines.

Soon after, we too stopped in the shade for sustenance. Under the trees, we savored creamy local goat cheese, thinly sliced jamón ibérico, and a cold sherry from Jerez, the wine region just south of the park. Raising our glasses, we toasted our generous horses and Dendaluce's guiding partner, Alfonso Gonzalo, who'd trained them.