A ride back in time to the forgotten valley.... Andean hospitality and horsebackriding at it´s best.
3 to 5 days in the extremely rustical El Granate cheesehouse 

Once upon a time.... 
we used to saddle up our horses, pack some gear and food on a mule and ride up through thick, humid and lush cloud forest vegetation. A very narrow and steep path guided us through this enchanting and bizarre forest of bamboo, bromeliads, strange colored lichen and ferns. Every now and then one or the other horse slipped a bit and then carried on along the muddy trail through the wilderness. When we finally reached the end of the forest the landscape opened up and the path was still winding uphill further up into the mystic Páramo and the green highlands of the venezuelan andes. 
The breath coming out of the nostrils of our horses condenses in the air as we get to some ruins that indicate that this beautiful spot next to a small creek with crystal clear water once was inhabited ... maybe some centuries ago. Through the mist there is still no sight to this endless seeming ride into thin and cold air. Velvet leaves and yellow friars as we enter a huge rock garden..... finally the pass crossing over to the hidden and forgotten valley of  El Granate. 
As we sacrifice some flowers to the cross and wish for good weather, strength for the horses and a safe descent... the view suddenly clears up and as far as one can see there is untouched virgin nature around. Some round green mountains right in front, the huge valley underneath gets us guessing about the existence of a river, some frailejones and the red fire bush are singing the song of loneliness with the wind. In the far distance maybe a glance of the flatland... sometimes only, when it's really clear after a  rainy day. This is really off the beaten track. Riding downhill doesn't result to be that easy...the steepness is remarkable and make our horses seem like some wild Capricorn's. Falling down could mean death as we follow the mountain wall on one side - and a several hundred metre deep abyss on the other. Don't look down the precipice... right in front there are many waterfalls crashing down over the black walls. A scream in the middle of nowhere. It came from the yet invisible valley bottom. There it is! - a 200 years old, a red tile covered farmhouse surrounded by green pasture and a cold inspiring gray, greenish river behind it. 
Saluting, waving his old black hat over his head... the Cheese maker doesn't know that we are coming but is always happy to share his solitude with some visitors. As we enter the gate in the big rock wall around the house we hear some cows mooing and calf's are jumping nervously around on their back legs. The smoke coming out of the chimney on top of the roof makes our hearts feel warmer. Our sweaty horses deserve some recognition for without their sure footed, strong legs and their big breath we wouldn't have made it. 
The smell of smoke hits our noses and our eyes begin to tear when we finally enter the kitchen asked in by the cheese maker.
Above the low door, which seems to be built for dwarfs there are many horseshoes woven into some metal wire... inside it is completely dark, the walls are pitch-black from more than 2 centuries of smoke and fire. Just in one corner you can distinguish some light source coming from a burning fire. A herbal infusion has been prepared and as we sit down next to the warming flames we are handed a cup to taste some. 
Our guts start to warm again at the same time as our eyes calm down a bit, getting used to focusing in the darkness and start to wander around a bit.  Sparse conversations and short dialogs from the cheese maker cut the rattling and cracking sound of the fire. Our mule has been unpacked and dinner is being prepared. Before you realize it the cold night has fallen outside. We stay in the kitchen where the rum or miche (andean schnapps) goes around and usually never lasts long...tales of El Granate and from civilization start to mix up before  sleep comes around. 
Outside the fog has lifted completely in the cold air and  gives a view of a billion of stars. Tonight the milky way is sheltering us under the roof of this fairy tale farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

Long before you get up the cheese maker has mustered his cows together and smiles at you when you walk out to the patio, milking with his 2  hands a black and white spotted cow. The calf's are outside the stonewall and are waiting restless to feed themselves. The rooster you seemed to hear but were not sure about it is zigzagging through the cows legs....the sun is shining but hasn't reached the bottom of the valley yet....a light blue sky without any clouds promises to become a good day.  Breakfast is served with still warm and fresh milked milk. The cheese maker with the old, funny hat knows each step he is doing. The velvety soft leaves of the frailejones plants are ready, the kettles are clean and some powder is laying on the rock table in the kitchen. Even early morning you enter the kitchen and the smoke....is also there. But you smell it less now. After an evening together with these cowboys and their tales..... and especially that bottle of firewater to keep you warm. 
The horses stand patiently as we swing up the saddles and then ride off into this enchanting valley that seems to be a landscape description from J.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the rings". Closer to the waterfalls, galloping on the highland plains to some small mountain lakes through fields of flowers and green grass. To tickle trout in the pure glass clear and cold water is just one of the things you can imagine to do up in these mountains...and as you try your luck, somebody else is assuring that your mouth will water with this fine delicate fish in the evening.  The scream of an eagle breaks the silence....as we come back to the farmhouse the milk of this morning has already been enrolled with the agreeable smelling frailejones leaves  and has been put above the fireplaces to start it's smoking process. Red cheeks and colored faces we sit down to enjoy our fresh trout for dinner. The fresh air and the high altitude have cleared our thoughts and minds and after playing some games of domino we surrender to the sleep. 

Adios from El Granate has never been easy and many of the few that have been up there have come back to catch a little more air of that heavenly garden of eden. Some remember the dense smoke,  the warmth of the fire, the sky full of stars, the fresh cow milk and cheese, the cold and mystic fog, the beauty of the plants,  the scream of the eagle, the absolute silence of the mountain lakes, the delicious trouts and some to be again with the big hearted and sure footed horses of the 17.000 hectares ranch "Hacienda El Baho". If you would like to know this place... it is for real and still forgotten. It's hospitality is outstanding - city slickers at it's best. 
Very few privileged visitors join us horseback trekking to "the Lost Valley"...and never ever has one come back disappointed.
If you wish to be born 200 years ago we can take you there now and show you how peaceful and harmonious life once upon a time used to be. 

Send questions, comments or doubts to arassari@telcel.net.ve or info@arassari.com   the exclusive representative for a guaranteed excellent horseback adventure. 

Note:
- There were no toilets 200 years ago.. and so it is now. No showers neither, nor big sleeping comfort... and so it is now and so it shall stay. 
- It is possible to cross over from El Granate to the valley El Potrero of Juan Felix Sanchez, known as the artist of the Páramo.
This place has become famous thanks to the chapel built in honor of Juan Gregorio Sanchez. It represents the lifework of one of the most extraordinary men of the venezuelan andes of this century. As this place is also 6 to 7 hours away from the next road conditions have stayed almost as rustically as in El Granate. It is possible to extend the horseback ride and visit this wonderful place witness of strong faith,  human will and naive creativity at the same time. ( 5 or 6 days)