At a Walk, Just the Two of You

There is exactly one horse breed in the world bred so its rider can hold a glass of wine without spilling it at speed. The Peruvian paso horse does not trot: it has a fourth gait, lateral and low, that the rider's body barely registers. You can ride alongside someone else, at the same height, and carry on a sentence without the gait breaking it. It is, without meaning to be, the one animal designed for a couple's ride.

The route leaves from a hacienda lined with eucalyptus planted more than three centuries ago, and drops toward the Urubamba along dirt trails that appear on no tourist map. At some point the path crosses the river on a narrow hanging bridge, the kind that sways a little, and that is where most couples stop without anyone suggesting it — the water below, mountains closing the valley on both sides, no other rider in sight.

The picnic, wherever the trail decides to end

There is no fixed spot. Lunch is laid out according to how far the ride reached that day: a blanket spread on the grass, high-altitude cheeses, bread still warm, seasonal fruit, a glass of something cold. Nothing elaborate — the elaboration is that the table appeared exactly where the two of you chose to stop, with no one else knowing you would.

The return is slower than the way out. The horses already know the road and barely need guiding, which leaves your hands free for something other than holding the reins.