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sunday riding

This was written some time ago…

Sunday Ride

“Do you have any plans for Sunday?” I was asked last week. Plans?? Hmmm… well, I have to do some laundry, sweep my room, maybe catch up on some sleep, but those can all wait. “Nope” I said with a grin. “I thought we might take you for a ride then”. This was MUSIC to my ears! I had been anxiously hoping, that on my final weekend here in the bush I would do what I have hoping I would do all this time!
Ever since my very unexciting ride back o

n Mornington Peninsula I have been desperate to get back in the saddle and really experience a horse ride, on a real horse. ..
I was instructed to come to the house at 8am (on a Sunday!) and wear jeans, long sleeves and plenty of sunscreen. After a not so good sleep, and a chilly early start I skipped over to the house in my most convenient horse riding attire. Thank goodness my jeans are stretch!
After making lunch (should I blog about my cooking too?) which was a pumpkin and carrot frittata and gathering up yesterday’s baking marathon: a fruit and muesli slice, raisin brownies, apricot and orange muffins and double chocolate chunk cookies: I was put into a pair of boot and fitted for a hat. (Not a riding hat, like us Europeans are used to, but a cowboy hat!)
At about 9 am E, K and I got into the Ute and drove off the other yards to collect some saddles, whilst D and C went off to round up the horses. My first shock, perhaps, was that the horses had to be found, and then saddled. I could barely lift the heavy thing out of the Ute (not a good station hand am I?) About 8 horses galloped into the yard: All excited, all frisky, all not looking very calm.
So Oaky was saddled and bridled up and I walked him around a little bit before trying to find a place to climb up so I could get on. Apparently he has an odd body shape, so his saddle rolls a bit as you try to get on. Poor D seemed a little bit unsure of whether to put his hand on my arse to shove me onto the horse, so I had to climb onto a water trough and transfer myself to the horse.
We set off, the children in front, and myself and K at the rear, making sure to keep out father and son horses a safe distance apart as they don’t share much love between them. I needn’t have worried about Oaky’s friskiness, as he was in their words “too old, lazy and unfit” to give me any bother. He was In fact a very gently horse, who when kicked slipped into a reluctant, but smooth trot, which my audience were impressed with. My last official riding lessons were about 20 years, but I still remembered my “rise and trot”, “heels down” and how to gather the reins. Those puzzled me at first, as I had never used an open rein and of course held those all wrong.
Once back in the saddle, the memories I have of always wanting to have my own horse as a child came flooding back, and the enjoyment I have always felt when sitting on one surrounded me as we walked through the paddock under the crisp blue spring sky. We stopped once we found a tree that provided shade and good stump (for me to climb back on the horse) for morning smoko. We ate our fruit, fed E’s horse the cores and the children shared stories of funny horsey happenings in the bush. On we went through the trees for some time until we reached Tiger’s Hole. A damn/creek in a picturesque spot: perfect for our bush picnic.
My saddle bag had a quart pot in it, which we filled with water, and put in the fire the children made for Quart pot tea. Having cleared the ground of ants and sat cross legged in the dirt eating our lunch, whilst the children did running jumps into the creek: I realised I had (had to) let go of a lot of my hang ups which had manifested in adult years. Sitting on the ground where I can SEE ants is one, eating without washing my hands is another, trusting a horse I don’t know, wearing someone else’s shoes, peeing in the bush… all of which might not seem much, but I hadn’t realised how much they had made me restricted.
Before heading back, we mounted the horses (with the help of another water trough) and Oaky and I had a photo shoot, as well as a few little trots for the camera. Everyone wanted me to experience Oaky’s “beautiful” canter, and game though I was after my initial hesitation, it was short lived due to my stirrups being just a tad too long to feel comfortable.
On the ride home, the sun was blazing and all of us here breaking a sweat. I found it hard to imagine mustering all day in much sharper heat, for much longer and at a much more demanding pace than Oaky’s totally chilled out gait. We trotted quite a bit on the way home, and once or twice, sniffing the air of the home stretch, Oaky broke into an unexpected canter, which I wish I could have enjoyed, but my reservations about stirrup lengths and inexperience made me pull him up sharp and we continued at a healthier, slower pace.
Arriving home, I felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure in finally experience something that these bush people clearly love. The conditions were perfect, nothing went wrong, and apart from having to walk around in a John Wayne stance for two days, it was an invigoratingly positive experience.

March moments #4

Bus driving, horse riding and Mornington Peninsula.

As driving is one of my favourite things, I jumped at the chance to drive the school bus/minivan to Mornington Peninsula for a school organised excursion. The crew consisted of three teachers and 6 Colombian students.

The hardest thing for me to deal with was not being able to change gear when I wanted to which made driving out of Melbourne particularly stressful in this matter, as at  traffic lights and junctions I wasn’t able to tell the bus to do what I wanted it to do.

That said, it was an easy drive down to Mornington, with no hiccups other than an unfortunate hangover (not my own) causing one of my passengers to need me to stop every so often for a quick vomit. Fun.

I dropped some off at the beach, and four of us continued to our horse-riding location, where we mounted our horses and enjoyed a leisurely trek through the countryside. I say leisurely and I mean incredibly slow: unfortunately we were booked into a beginner’s hack, which meant I honestly could’ve walked faster than my horse Woody was allowed to go and at times I had visions of kicking his flanks and taking him for a quick canter over the hills. The girl behind me asked if my horse was called Woody because of Toy Story, but no, as I had suspected, he was so called because of something else… 😉

After our little horsey jaunt I drove around looking for nice beaches and picturesque photo opportunities and due to my lack of local knowledge, this involved a few U turns and parking tricks, but fun was had by all. We found an incredibly windy location, which made for a hilarious hair-flying-in-the-wind photo shoot, complete with numerous Marilyn Monroe moments of mine where-by everyone got well acquainted with my underwear.

The bus was delivered back to Melbourne without a hitch only 3 hours later than scheduled. No, this was not due to my incompetent time keeping, but a group decision to enjoy the day and stretch it out as much as possible. This is a common trait of mine, because yes, I do and have enjoyed living in Melbourne, but give me a chance to leave the city for the day and I will make it last as long as possible.