After a quick lunch at Anglesea, we said goodbye to Ciaran who had to leave for a friend's 30th. We drove to Aireys Inlet for the next part of our buck's - horse-riding.
Horse-riding conjures up all these wonderful images - of the elegant Rohirrim riders of Rohan in Lord Of the Rings or of the majestic William Wallace atop his horse in Braveheart convincing his Scottish countrymen to remind the English that 'they may take our lives, but they will never take OUR ...FREEDOM!'
All the armoured-knight and kilt-laden fantasies disappeared the moment we opened our car door and took a huge whiff of reality - the scent of horse manure. It was a smell we needed to get used to, yet it took all our strength not to close our car doors again.
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| You know, these guys. (P.S. How about your mullet, Braveheart? Can we take that instead?) |
"Horse Poo 4 Sale - $2" somehow didn't have the same poetry as Mel Gibson's stirring speech.
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| Although the horse might beg to differ. |
As beginners, however, we were given the sedate horses. Horses with names like Chucky, and Bayley, and Lorrie (and Sleepy, and Doc and Grumpy).
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| I think my horse was named Chucky because that's what you felt like doing after riding him for awhile. Chucky, hurhurhur. |
We were given a quick ten minute lesson on where to put our feet into the stirrups, how to hold the reins, and how to get the horses to move forward, stop and turn.
Having immediately forgotten everything we were taught, we were then helped up onto the horses, and headed off into the direction of the well-worn trail path with our somewhat sedate horses. (They were really so sedate I'm tempted to call them horsies).
About ten minutes into the trail walk, our instructor turns around and tells us that we were going to learn how to trot now. She taught us how to kick our horses in the side and how to time our rhythm with that of the trotting horse. We were supposed to rise with each trot and fall as the horse lands.
Supposed to, being the operative word here. Having all the coordination of a drunken sailor with a middle ear infection, I somehow managed to sit as the horse's body rose and stand as the horse's body fell. Which is the same effect as having your ass/groin paddled consistently for a 60-second period. Which is bad news for all intentions of having children in the future. (Sorry, Mum).
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That was not the only drama of the day. En route to the beach, where my brother was insistent we would canter with the wind whipping into our hairs while lasso-ing unsuspecting sunbathers, the lead horse suddenly got spooked by strong winds and took off.
The other horses, never having ever had to think for themselves before, bolted as well and soon we were cantering through the small paths in the forest for a good thirty seconds. I was grabbing hard onto my saddle and pulled on the reins with all my might, telling Chucky to slow the hell down. All my horse whispering worked, and soon Chucky slowed down from his blistering pace.
There was an eerie silence as I looked up and saw our instructors' shocked face looking back towards me, her eyes surveying the damage. Her open mouth betrayed the fact that all was not well behind me.
I turned around and saw that two of the riders were on the ground, having been thrown off their horses.
One of them was Hawch, who had taken to jumping off his bolting horse, and attempted to cushion the floor by rolling on his shoulder. The other was my brother, and he wasn't moving at first.
I turned Chucky around and approached them slowly. Both my brother and Hawch soon started groaning and painfully got themselves up, dusting themselves off before checking for damage. Both of them were a little bruised, but thankfully nothing seemed broken.
The mood of the party had dampened then. This close shave served as a reminder about how potentially dangerous today's activities could have been. Hawch and my brother walked a distance before being convinced by the instructor to get back on to their horses, which they did gingerly and a little reluctantly.
It was all a cautious walk with the horses from this point, as both our instructors talked between themselves to figure out what went wrong back there. The trodden dirt paths soon turned into gravel roads as we approached civilisation - we were now in a residential area, giving way to cars, and waiting patiently while the horses pooped or peed at will.
Today's interesting lesson about horses - when male horses pee, their generous penises come out, and then they bucket out their pee, as if they were putting out a small forest fire, and then, just like magic, their penis retracts completely out of sight. That is a party trick I would lov... erm, never mind.
We all stopped our horses at a car park near the beach. The wind whipped strongly against our faces. Our two instructors, already wary from today's accident, had a discussion between themselves and then decided that it was probably unwise to continue on to canter on the beach.
We all agreed, being a little shaken by the incident, although my brother was still keen to go ahead as he wanted to complete our experience.
Majority won in the end, and we turned around and walked our horses back the way we came. The trip home was less eventful, thankfully. We even managed to trot for a bit of it, our collective confidence returning.
One of the unforgettable moments we had to capture with the cameras of our minds was the breathtaking view of the lagoon shimmering in the evening sun beneath us as we made our way down the hills.
We all made it back in one piece, and were relieved to get off our horses, our gait a little unsteady from being on the rocking horses for a good part of two hours. We each let out a laugh of relief that we weren't too severely injured, and removed our protective helmets and boots, taking photos before heading for our next destination.
About ten minutes into the trail walk, our instructor turns around and tells us that we were going to learn how to trot now. She taught us how to kick our horses in the side and how to time our rhythm with that of the trotting horse. We were supposed to rise with each trot and fall as the horse lands.
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| Apply generously to bottom. |
****************************************
That was not the only drama of the day. En route to the beach, where my brother was insistent we would canter with the wind whipping into our hairs while lasso-ing unsuspecting sunbathers, the lead horse suddenly got spooked by strong winds and took off.
The other horses, never having ever had to think for themselves before, bolted as well and soon we were cantering through the small paths in the forest for a good thirty seconds. I was grabbing hard onto my saddle and pulled on the reins with all my might, telling Chucky to slow the hell down. All my horse whispering worked, and soon Chucky slowed down from his blistering pace.
There was an eerie silence as I looked up and saw our instructors' shocked face looking back towards me, her eyes surveying the damage. Her open mouth betrayed the fact that all was not well behind me.I turned around and saw that two of the riders were on the ground, having been thrown off their horses.
One of them was Hawch, who had taken to jumping off his bolting horse, and attempted to cushion the floor by rolling on his shoulder. The other was my brother, and he wasn't moving at first.
I turned Chucky around and approached them slowly. Both my brother and Hawch soon started groaning and painfully got themselves up, dusting themselves off before checking for damage. Both of them were a little bruised, but thankfully nothing seemed broken.
The mood of the party had dampened then. This close shave served as a reminder about how potentially dangerous today's activities could have been. Hawch and my brother walked a distance before being convinced by the instructor to get back on to their horses, which they did gingerly and a little reluctantly.
It was all a cautious walk with the horses from this point, as both our instructors talked between themselves to figure out what went wrong back there. The trodden dirt paths soon turned into gravel roads as we approached civilisation - we were now in a residential area, giving way to cars, and waiting patiently while the horses pooped or peed at will.
Today's interesting lesson about horses - when male horses pee, their generous penises come out, and then they bucket out their pee, as if they were putting out a small forest fire, and then, just like magic, their penis retracts completely out of sight. That is a party trick I would lov... erm, never mind.
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| Haha! You thought I was going to put a picture of a horse's you-know-what here, weren't you? I think this one's best left to your imagination! |
We all stopped our horses at a car park near the beach. The wind whipped strongly against our faces. Our two instructors, already wary from today's accident, had a discussion between themselves and then decided that it was probably unwise to continue on to canter on the beach.
We all agreed, being a little shaken by the incident, although my brother was still keen to go ahead as he wanted to complete our experience.
Majority won in the end, and we turned around and walked our horses back the way we came. The trip home was less eventful, thankfully. We even managed to trot for a bit of it, our collective confidence returning.
One of the unforgettable moments we had to capture with the cameras of our minds was the breathtaking view of the lagoon shimmering in the evening sun beneath us as we made our way down the hills.
We all made it back in one piece, and were relieved to get off our horses, our gait a little unsteady from being on the rocking horses for a good part of two hours. We each let out a laugh of relief that we weren't too severely injured, and removed our protective helmets and boots, taking photos before heading for our next destination.
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| No one died! High fives all around! |
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