Gisela Schleske participated in the Costa Atlantica trek in April 2025. A few days after her return, she sent us a lovely email and a story about her experience that we're happy to share on the blog because it answers the questions everyone asks before leaving.
If you're wondering what one of our treks is like and how our horses behave, here's what someone who's had the experience can tell you.
Gisela's word
After experiencing the seven-day trek along the Atlantic Coast Ride, together with “my” Aragon, I would like to share with those who will leave after me the answers to the questions that were swirling in my head before leaving.
What will the food be like? Will I be able to rest? What will my relationship with my horse, the group, and the guides be like? And how will Morocco welcome me? Here's what I can tell you now that I'm back home, after this wonderful experience.
My starting equestrian preparation
I'm sixty years old, live in Freiburg, in southern Germany, and don't have a horse of my own. As a child and young woman, I often rode outdoors, self-taught. After a long twenty-year break, I started riding again five years ago. For the past two years, I've been taking regular lessons with a dressage rider (Tamara Kubias, who specializes in vertical riding), who has taught me a great deal about how to ride harmoniously and respectfully. As an observer at Manuel Oliveira's courses in Waal, I've also learned something valuable from him: the proper way to interact with stallions.
Eating and sleeping: here's how it went
From the first meal, with the view of the ocean near Agadir, I was struck. And not just by the beauty of the landscape. As a doctor, food is always a priority for me, and what I found here exceeded all expectations. Two hot meals every day, always prepared by the same chef, with fresh ingredients: vegetables, legumes, fruit, meat, fish, eggs. There was always a full vegetarian option. For breakfast, there were freshly squeezed juices (up to four different ones every morning) and homemade pancakes. Throughout the week, no one in our group had the slightest discomfort. Water, always in sealed bottles, was plentiful.
Sleeping in a group, in a tent, was one of my main concerns. Instead, I slept soundly, every night. Perhaps it was the comfortable mattresses, the Berber rugs on the floor, the colorful fabric walls, or perhaps the sea breeze and the calm breathing of the horses just outside the tent.
Even the camp bathroom was always clean and odorless. And everyone, including me, noticed how smooth our digestion was throughout the trip. This was probably also thanks to the quality of the food.
How physically demanding is it?
The saddle was surprisingly comfortable: never a sore spot, never a mark. Only two days after returning did I feel a little sore. During the trek, however, I felt so good—in body and spirit—that I could have continued riding for another week. Before leaving, I was worried it might be too demanding, but I was surprised: the enthusiasm for the landscapes, for the horses, for every day in the saddle, outweighed any fatigue.
What are the horses like and how are they treated?
All the horses were in splendid shape: shiny coats, lean muscles, lively eyes. Energetic, eager to move, yet confident even in the most challenging passages. What struck me was not only their health, but the beauty with which they carried themselves: elegant, collected, proud. Not horses dulled by schooling, but lively, responsive companions, deeply connected to their riders.
My horse, Aragon, let himself be touched everywhere and saddled naturally. But it took me a while to figure out which brush he preferred and how hard. At first, he was a bit distant. Then he began to relax, enjoying the touch. One day, while I was combing his mane—curly, very long, almost 50 cm—he fell asleep under my hands.
Not all stallions, however, are cuddly. A traveling companion wanted an affectionate horse, but hers wasn't that type. Mustapha, one of the companions, helped her find a new way to interact. And in the end, she found cuddles with two other horses, always open to receiving them.
Regarding their diet, Omar, the stables' owner, showed me how much he values variety. Each horse receives a carefully selected mix. I was struck by how little they eat and drink compared to our horses in Germany. They aren't competitive with their food; they don't try to graze while walking. And even with long breaks between meals, they remain calm, centered, and balanced.
How do horses behave in groups?
I was really curious to understand what it was like to spend seven days in the saddle, among 16 stallions (one of the horses was a gelding). What I learned immediately was that the distance between the horses is crucial. It takes a good eye, but also sensitivity: some seek each other out, others need space.
Aragon, my horse, always watched the entire group, but he responded so well to my assistance that I could easily push him off the pace of the others. Even at the gallop, we chose our own pace, without being distracted by the herd. On the beach, for example, he would let me slow down even if the others overtook him. But when I let him go, he would gallop for a long time, with strength and joy. Always manageable, even in the heat of the moment. His energy seemed inexhaustible. Even after long stretches on the dunes—which felt like descents through fresh snow—he never tired.
A very experienced rider, who was participating with her two daughters and works in the equestrian world, told me something that struck me: in her opinion, all the horses were extraordinarily well trained and, with a good rider, responded with great sensitivity.
Perhaps what truly makes a stallion special—besides his elegance—is his courage. None of the horses has ever been frightened: not by fluttering bags, nor by buses, trucks, carts, nor by sudden encounters with donkeys, camels, dogs, sheep, or tourists on the beach.
What are the guides like?
Erica, Hassan, and Omar were with us on our trip. Erika and Omar are the owners of the stables: two wonderful people, united in life, and it shows. They have a natural, simple, and affectionate kindness. Hassan, Omar's older brother, often led the way with a young and demanding horse. Watching him in the saddle was a pleasure: never forced, never tense. He never held the horse's neck, he let it go, calmly, with trust.
From the beginning, he told me that Aragon would be a great opportunity for me. And throughout the tour, he never stopped encouraging me with kind comments about the way we interacted. Mustapha, who this time was part of the ground crew, was also ever-present. On the second day, I tried to be more authoritative with Aragon, who initially whinnied loudly and often. But Mustapha told me, “Give him sugar, not harshness.” I interpreted this as an invitation to choose gentle firmness, to convey security without rigidity.
So I started asking him for more: a few small exercises, a transition from a walk to a trot, then back to a walk. And within two days, Aragon no longer felt the need to attract attention with his neighing. He began to be more calm even during breaks, without scratching the ground or snorting to attract attention.
How does the horse-rider pairing happen?
As soon as I signed up, I was asked about my experience with horses and what I wanted for the pairing. For Erica, this is crucial: the horse and rider must truly connect. Before leaving, she takes the time to figure out who would be a good match. She also always discusses this with Omar, who has a keen intuition for reading people and animals.
For each horse, Erica tells a little story. It's not just a name and a number: it's a character, a way of being. She explains how she prefers to be treated, what makes her feel comfortable. By the end of the week, all of us—there were fourteen of us—felt we'd found the right horse. Each of us, in our own way, had formed a bond.
Of course, not everyone spent the same amount of time with their horse, even out of the saddle. But those who wanted to were always free to groom, feed, and spend time together. No one supervised you. No one told you how or how much. The guides were always available, ready to answer a question or check if everything was okay. But the relationship, the real one, was built by you.
Personally, I felt that my desire to get to know Aragon better—even outside of the trek—was something they understood and appreciated. So, day after day, the trust between him and me grew. And the more we got to know each other, the more natural the bond became. It was clear that the horses were also happy; they willingly participated in the tour and seemed to enjoy the strength and rhythm of the herd.
How was the journey?
The course isn't easy, and that's precisely what makes it fascinating. It's varied, at times challenging. The horses that tackle it aren't beginners: they're well-prepared, sensitive animals, who deserve to be ridden with a light, independent stance, and a lot of confidence. Aragon, for example, when faced with a difficult descent, always took a moment. He observed, reflected, and only then decided where to place his hooves. In those moments, pushing him forward would have been a mistake.
Trekking in terrain like this—sometimes truly challenging, with steep descents—means relying on the collaboration between man and horse and knowing how to count on their ability to carry us safely.
I was surprised and fascinated by the variety of landscapes. We crossed fields dotted with herds of goats and sheep, alternating with arid, almost desert-like areas that sloped down to the stormy sea. We saw frightened camel calves running for shelter from their mothers, who greeted us with threatening hisses—completely ignored by the horses. We saw goats climbing argan trees several meters above the ground. Every lunch break and every place we slept was immersed in extraordinary natural beauty, always with magnificent views, often of the ocean.
What's it like traveling to Morocco as an unaccompanied woman?
This was my fourth time in Morocco. Twenty years ago, the salespeople were more direct and pushy. Today, however, the country seems to have found a balance in the way it welcomes visitors, especially Europeans. In Essaouira and Marrakech, I moved freely and felt at ease.
Modern restaurants and cafes are everywhere, offering a wide variety of choices that rival those of New York. At the same time, traditional shops and restaurants still exist. Since I've known Morocco, the condition of the roads and street lighting have also improved significantly.
One thing that always strikes me is the kindness of people. Whether it's a farmer, a beggar on the street, or a shopkeeper: a smile or a greeting is always returned with another smile and another greeting, without exception. They're small details, but they say a lot about this country.
