Gíslastathir: worth learning to pronounce

We stayed at several farms while we were in Iceland. One of them was an actual farm farm, like with cows and sheep and hay and other things you’d eat. Or something you’d eat would eat. But twice we stayed at horse farms. My favorite was Gíslastathir, run by horse breeder and artist Ellen and her family. She keeps a little guest house which was perfect for the five of us. It’s a funky place, with a working art studio where she encourages each of her guests to paint a picture to leave as a guestbook of sorts. You can see some of the work adorning the walls of the kitchen. This place wins first prize for the most picturesque spot I’ve ever hung out laundry. And the first time I've ever been able to reach out and pat a horse while doing so.

We were there a couple days, one of which the Little and I spent out riding with Ellen. The others passed—we’d just been riding a day or two earlier, and were still saddle-sore. But for the two of us, it was wonderful: more riding lesson than riding session.

Ellen gently taught us the fundamentals of good body position and how to maintain proper tension on the reins so that the horse would know that we were neither a total pushover nor a nervous rein-tugger. Best of all was when we tolted, experiencing one of the two special gaits only Icelandic horses have. The Little and I decided we’d go back someday, and stay for a week to ride more, and to play with the dog and the rabbits that share the barn with the horses. Remind me to get my saddle muscles in shape first, though. Ellen's saddles have extra padding, but still: tolting can tough on tender tushies.