Ivan was mucking out the stables when I arrived in the morning. As usual, he didn’t hear my first ‘hello’ over the noise of the dumper. H...

There’s a big Repsol garage near La Capitana, Marta’s mother’s farm. RESTAURANTE blinks over the motorway in the early morning light. We’...

On my first day in Sanlúcar, three people mentioned El Rocío and were surprised when I hadn’t heard of it. Apparently it all started in t...

*Warning: this piece contains graphic images and content.* The stableyard on Thursday evening felt just like those wintery nights I remem...

*Warning: this piece contains graphic images and content.*

I don’t know where Guillermo went this afternoon. He put one very long stick, two horses, two saddles, four bridles, and five flatcaps in...

Read 'A Day in the Life' for part 1. We’re back for lunch, and Guillermo’s mother ushers me into the kitchen. She stops by the oven and p...

I’m coming to the end of my second week at the picadero in Sanlúcar. The novelty is wearing off, and so is the skin on my fingers. I’m ha...

The Spanish Championship of Doma Vaquera was held in Almonte this weekend. Guillermo was once Champion of Andalucía, and, even though he w...

A few days ago, Guillermo told me to lunge a dark dappled grey horse. I tacked it up, held its skittish head tightly, and walked it into ...

I got in Marta’s car this morning to find three Americans squashed in together, waiting to be taken to La Capitana, Marta’s mother’s farm...

Today Marta took me to her mother’s farm, aptly named La Capitana. Aurora Algarra is one of the only women in the whole of Spain who bree...

* Warning: this piece contains graphic content and images. * Six o’clock this afternoon brought me and Guillermo to La Cobatilla, the fin...

Fried potatoes. Spanish soap opera. Chicken. Bread. Beer. Got asked if I was Catholic. Surprised reactions all around at my response in t...

Until Sunday evening, when I arrived in Sanlucar, I had had no contact with the man who owns and runs the picadero, Guillermo Macias Guer...