35. Snow mobile outing


Our first prize from the company quiz night at the end of February is an hour ride on a snow-mobile; have I mentioned this? Early March wasn’t very convenient due to visitors, followed by some bad weather then the sunshine arrived but Gareth sustained a nasty injury to his shoulder which we had to let settle. Finally towards the end of March I thought I’d better check how much longer the excursion would be available as the 18,50 resort had started closing down and the buses reduced to a skeleton service, although we still have 3 weeks of guests. They would be closing down in 10 days.

Our fellow team members are both drivers so are rota-ed on until 6.30pm. Consequently their easy-going ‘we can go whenever, just let us know’ was rubbish. We could go ‘whenever’ as we don’t work evenings. I narrowed it down to Thursday or Friday, finally opting for Thursday as Max would cover the last 2 hours of another colleague’s shift on Tuesday so that he would reciprocate, allowing Max to get off early enough on Thursday as 5.30 was the only time available. This information was duly passed to the company owner (CO) who would book us in (and pay).

Wednesday’s forecast for miserable sleety weather was correct, we didn’t venture outside the apartment door all day. At 5.30 we received a message asking why we weren’t stood beside our snow-mobiles.
‘Its tomorrow’ we replied.
‘****!’ came the reply. ‘I’ve booked you on the wrong day. Can you get up there now?’ I looked out at the horizontal wet snow. We would have to catch one of the less frequent buses which meant not getting to the rendez-vous until 6.15, nearly an hour late for a one hour trip. The CO managed to sort something out and not lose his money as predicted (€140!) and booked us for the correct evening, Thursday, when we should have better visibility, fresh snow and a lift in one of the company minibuses.

‘Wait, I thought it was Friday’ came a plaintive text from Gareth 10 minutes later. What? He was the one working late on Friday which is why Max had swapped hours with Gordon (only just back at work following surgery to his shoulder after cavorting in the snow park and almost identical injury to his A/C joint as Gareth) for an early finish on Thursday. Surely Gareth wasn’t serious, he is a chemistry teacher and they aren’t renowned for a sense of humour (which might be why he has given it up to cavort around a snow park on a plank and cause himself more damage than several seasons of rugby ever did.) But it is Wednesday, I thought, staff day off and early evening on a bad snow day so he’s probably been in a bar for several hours and become confused. I didn’t like to imagine what the CO was thinking but suspect that his surrounding air was turning purple, but left that between them. A few minutes later it became evident that Gareth had been on the juice as he admitted that it was a joke. This 6 footer has now been booked onto a kids bike, haha!


I opened the curtains to several inches of snow with more floating down. At least it wasn’t the driving sleet of the previous day. Visibility still wasn’t great but although considerably further didn’t tempt us to plan to ski, unless there was a significant improvement. This was just as well as a text message arrived as we were putting boots on. My guests, who are very nice, weren’t going out either so didn’t want their daily clean until after 12. Oookay, so what if we had something planned for the afternoon? This perpetual ‘on-call’ doesn’t really suit us. I suspect that the guests had said not to bother at all but as we had nothing else planned I complied, leaving Roger to go to Mollard as usual.

I had an hour to spare before donning all outdoor gear for our snowmobile excursion. The temperature had dropped, but not massively, the cloud cover containing some warmth. Eight of us were taken up to the altiport, followed by another 5; guests from one of our other chalets so best behaviour. We paired up and set off on our mounts but quickly came across a tricky sideways traverse followed by a short steep lip which our bike declined to navigate. Roger veered off down the hill and circled round, through untouched snow, to join the back of the line, much to people’s surprise. I think some thought we were doing a runner.

We continued onto the freshly groomed pistes of 18,50, after the lifts had stopped, so no skiers in sight. We chased up and down the slopes, from a different perspective to usual, especially when going up pistes. We took a track across to 16,50 and stopped on a ridge as the clouds began to part in the valley below. Swapping drivers we continued into the centre of the 16,50 ski area and then went off piste, or off the groomed piste at least. I had been a little reluctant to take control but had been persuaded by Roger and our sweeper. My main concern had been how cold my right hand was feeling after repeatedly taking my glove off to operate my phone camera. Once on the handle bars I wasn’t able to retract my fingers to resume circulation.

We stopped again after 10-15 minutes for a final swap before heading back across to 18,50, a closing sweep around the pistes surrounding the runway and back to the HQ where a fire and vin chaud awaited us just as snow began falling again. It had been a great prize, for which we are suitably grateful to our fellow team members for helping us to win and to the company for their generosity. They do get some things right.

Going solo – random travels

Going Solo
I remember my first solo trip in 1981 when I set off as a naive 20 year old clutching an inter-rail ticket and a map of Scandinavia. I couldn’t find any-one else interested in following my plan (with whom I could spend that length of time) but I was determined to test myself; to discover whether I could manage on my own. I could, so the following year joined a group of like-minded strangers trekking around the south-eastern corner of Iceland. We bonded at the time and waved a cheery goodbye to each other at Keflavik airport. Another successful holiday.

I feel sure that I was embraced by other experienced travellers with more enthusiasm as a solo ‘explorer’ than if I had not been alone. The relationships may have been transient but were a pleasurable diversion from the stunning views from the train windows. However, I did miss someone to share the awe of fjords, Lofoten Islands and midnight sun. My diary was a weak substitute and the handful of Kroner coins fed into an occassional payphone my only contact with friends and family. In recent years my travels have always been with selected company and the compromises have brought unexpected benefits, visiting places I wouldn’t have chosen but enjoyed immensely. I never wanted to ‘find myself’ but had no significant other with whom to share these experiences at that time, and didn’t want to miss out.

I travelled alone in the pre-internet and headphone era. Solo travel these days must be so much more isolated where people can be within inches of each other but never engage. Would I be able to approach someone else who appears to be alone but connected to a device, interrupt them, ask them if they want to join me for a coffee/walk/etc. or if they know of anywhere to go or have been? Would I be brave enough to take the initiative and engage with a stranger? The worst that could happen is they say ‘no’ but they may want a personal interaction as well.


Random Travels – Morocco

We took a fantastic road trip around Morocco several years ago in the company of a group of Aussies with Gecko travel. Landing in Casablanca we found ourselves discussing the Milliband rivalry for party leadership with 2 strangers in the queue for rail tickets into the city. I vividly remember passing a recently harvested field where every single stump appeared to have grown a plastic carrier bag, all billowing left in the breeze.
Watching the Saharan sunrise from high on a sand dune overlooking our strings of trusty four-legged ‘ships’ truly is unforgettable. We had pulled the mattresses outside of the Berber tents to enable us to sleep under the most amazing canopy of stars.
A shower hit us before we arrived at Ait Ben Haddou, but it wasn’t raining there. We crossed the dry riverbed on foot to visit the fortress, from where we watched a wave of water sweep down from the rain-soaked hills and fill the chasm. Our return trip was on a mule to keep our, but not his, feet dry. These beasts of burden took the manic traffic of Marrakesh in their short stride, steadfastly pulling their carts whilst jostling with cattle laden trucks, coaches and Porsche Cayennes on frenetic roundabouts.
Every sense was stimulated by vibrant colours of the strata in the Atlas Mountains and sacks of spice in the bazaars. The noise of car horns and hammering of metal accompanied the background calls to prayer. The cool feel of traditional tiles contrasted the soft smooth textures of handbags and slippers hanging in the leather dying sector of Fez, which elicited some particularly pungent smells. Unlike Djemaa el Fna, where the aromas of the food stalls were enticing, but we only dared drink the thirst-quenching fresh squeezed orange juice.

Summer on The Solent

The sea was calm in the flooded Solent valley; soft and smooth as chiffon. Ripples diverged from an arrowhead as an early morning swimmer paced between the groynes. The water was the warmest she’d known for many years. These exercise sessions had become a pleasure since the water quality improved, but now even the temperature was benign. Emerging into the pre-commute air there was no need to leap across the pebbles and wrap herself in the huge striped beach towel to stave off hypothermia. It was as pleasant as on a summer’s afternoon.

This was the prime time of day during the summer of 2018. By afternoon the air would suspend a humid 33 degrees. An on-shore breeze would churn the surface but not be refreshing, more like a full body hair-dryer. The waves would continue to deposit seaweed on the stony shore, the detritus of humankind reduced to an occassional piece of debris as light plastic glared from the deep greens and browns of the ocean’s foliage.

The grass adjoining the land-side of the promenade was scorched, parched, looked dead but usually recovered. Some people chose to sit up there rather than down on the unforgiving pebbles, more bodies this summer than ever before. Multi-coloured windbreaks stood guard, but for what purpose? Perhaps just a habit at the English seaside. Barbeques abounded and groups loitered until late into the evening, watching the sun set behind Fawley Power Station. The only time when it isn’t an ugly carbuncle on the horizon. What would Queen Victoria have thought of that blot on her view if she had spied it from Osborne House on the Isle of Wight?

The trees on the island appeared to have retained their various shades of chlorophyll green, high-lighting the straw coloured fields. The water dividing this outpost from the mainland provided a playground for weekend sailors in shorts and T-shirts. No need for so’westers in this tender climate as they dodged the overloaded container ships and towering cruise liners. Those holiday-makers may have been traveling to cooler climes. Not what they’d expected when booking their vacations in the sun.

But for how much longer would these Mediterranean conditions last? How long until the weather returned to normal? Until the wind splatters the rain onto the window pane? Until the blue sea turns to tormented lead? Until the grass resumes its verdant self? Until stoic souls walk the promenade under coats, hats and scarves? Until the gun-metal of Fawley Power Station blends with the skies, even at sun down?

Random Travels – Iceland

Icelandic Trek

35 years ago I took a walking holiday in Iceland. A disparate group of 22 strangers were guided by a delightful Frenchman who spoke minimal English, but we had an unforgettable experience. On the first evening I ordered a local delicacy: baked sheep’s head, in the salubrious surroundings of Rekjavik bus station. Dried food held a certain attraction after that. A recent BBC programme on walking in Iceland’s interior featured the type of mountain huts we stayed in but now as emergency accommodation. These days hikers enjoy electricity, showers and proper beds in wood buildings which defy the word ‘hut’. We used torches, smelt of sulphur after bathing in thermal streams and pulled our karrimats outside to sleep as we were cooked by the heating derived from the adjacent dinner-plate sized hot spring.


Rekjavik, Tjornin lake, Free church (Frikirkjan), National Gallery and Hallgrimskirkja church

Three of we four girls had our birthdays during this 2 week escapade, all Leos?! The melted mars bar, marathon and milky way birthday ‘cake’ was a gastronomic masterpiece. When crossing the bridgeless rivers each of us was escorted by two of the chaps, linking arms as we crossed the fast thigh-deep waters. We wore shorts as there was no point soaking our trousers, even if that did mean braving a blizzard on 31st July bare-legged. But we warmed up sunbathing on 1st Aug, before skiing down a hillside of larva dust.

Mature Seasonnaires

Lunch stop

Is this title a contradiction? No. Age is only a number, not a state of mind. If we are open to new experiences, prepared to be flexible and comfortable outside a routine then working a ski season can bring amazing rewards. We were in our early fifties when we swapped motorway commutes for ski boots and embarked on our first winter season as chalet hosts with a tour operator. This introduction was far from easy but we are heading off for our fifth consecutive season in December (not with that tour operator after the initial steep learning cliff!)

Le Spot to ourselves

I wont deny that there are challenges peculiar to more advancing years but also huge benefits. The winter world is a tough environment, the work is physical (I found being on my feet all the time was hardest – good work shoes would have resolved that) and the hours can be long (but are improving). Life experience can bring advantages, many relating to working practices: reliability, responsibility, commitment, punctuality and professionalism will be attractive to prospective employers. However, these can act against a conscientious employee but unscrupulous employers are being outed, particularly in France at the moment.

Still Christmassy

But what this type of work delivers is a five month period of living in a beautiful environment, pursuing an amazing activity (ski-ing or boarding) whichever days you want (apart from changeover) so you can choose favourable conditions. We choose to only ski when the sun shines. Mix with a group of like-minded people, even if there is a significant age difference. The younger team members are a breath of even fresher air for us oldsters. Ex-pat business owners regaled stories of succeeding with alternative lifestyles, offering confidence that there is a viable alternative to the rat race. Meager salaries ensure that materialism is minimised. We gained maximum pleasure from the non-commercial benefits.

Morning commute after fresh snow

If you think you would enjoy this lifestyle but are too old, think again. Don’t hesitate to get in touch or read the blog/background if you would like to know more about how we turned our lives on their heads, without any regrets. If we can do it so can you. We are regular people who just wanted to try something different before it was too late. We would be delighted to provide any help we can to assist you explore your dreams.


21. Another Goodbye

imag4059We have left our final place, a little earlier than expected but not due to any adverse circumstances on our part. John, our boss, is leaving to find paid work. He was ‘managing’ the ranch for Ray who has gone off for some other work as well, so things aren’t working out there quite as planned. Ray pays John and our costs so we have no further food or fuel and one of the trucks has died so things are a little complicated and we thought it might be a good time to depart. We have had a very interesting time here. John has developed his own way of breaking-in and training horses which he has used for 45 years with a significant degree of success, albeit with some mishaps but perhaps that is just horses for you. We just couldn’t accept wearing flipflops around horses (not to ride in obviously!) in order to make one more aware of one’s foot position! He obviously likes his animals and trains them with tough love, Ray just appears to be tough.

Monday wondering why the gate is closed.

Monday wondering why the gate is closed.

Monday, the chestnut, is a case in point where he wants to allow the horse to use their own brain and personality; Monday has plenty of both, even if he is quite young, reminding us of a certain Freckles at Bodalla. We have left him with Jamie, who is a big help and Shauna, who isn’t! They will be continuing to pack John’s life into the storage garage but as John is fairly incapacitated and she is unable/unwilling to do anything resembling work it will mean that Jamie (who is as thin as a lathe) has a lot of lifting and shifting to do moving furniture, ontop of doing a double shift to compensate for her lack of productivity, which he does to ameliorate the hard time she’ll give him if he doesn’t. Perhaps that is another reason why we were ready to leave, coupled with the fact that she refused to talk to me for the last 2 days as I suggested that she shouldn’t be so wasteful with food when we were running out! i.e. not boiling the limited eggs and then eating only the white and chucking the yolk out to the hens when others would eat the yolk and the snakes or iguanas are eating the eggs before we even get to them! Heyho

imag4057There are a few things I wont miss, like the mouse in the bedroom, tucked behind the case and exposed on our final morning or the rather large cockcroach which materialised beside the bed (mattress on the floor, very comfortable and at least we didn’t need to check under the bed for beasties, they’d be in with us!) on our penultimate morning. Also the ants, which would swarm out from between the wall panels of the bedroom during the course of the afternoon. When we started to help clear out the sheds John was very insistent on us being careful when we opened any kind of container to check for snakes, none were revealed but this rat skeleton in an old washing machine tub is fairly illustrative! imag4050We were observed, throughout these tasks, by a little kooki which appeared most afternoons and although sitting on a fencepost, not an old gum tree, he did seem to keep a proprietorial eye on all our activities.

Roxy, Jolti and Ice

Roxy, Jolti and Ice

We will, as usual, miss our 4-legged friends. John’s very well behaved cattle dogs (apart from Jolti who would get too excited and come around in front of the herd and Roxy, who copied Jolti) but they were good when they were back in the yard. Also the yard paddock horses whose whinnying would wake us in the morning, but not too early.

Dallas, Omega and Monday

Dallas, Omega and Monday

Omega is the last of that blood line, hence the name and, whilst still in possession of his bits, not for much longer and despite being a good 2 years old is still unsure what to do with them (Pip, our little filly would tell him if she could!) Dallas is one of Ray’s horses, brought back here to finish his training and is lovely and friendly although we are not allowed to pet him when he isn’t working. John was very concerned that we may fall over a sleeping horse when we retired to our cottage at night in the dark. This seemed unlikely as horses sleep standing up don’t they? Not this bunch!

20. Bush fire!

imag4034By the time we left the yards on our way back to house, approximately 10km along a winding and undulating dirt track, it was getting quite dark. This wouldn’t normally be a problem unless, of course, your lights didn’t work! Added to this was the complication of very light drizzle and guess what? the wipers didn’t work either! We had set off in the ute, in front of John and the others towing the float (horse box) but with his lights shinning past us on either side, the road ahead was complete darkness so had to swap round. Following his tail lights wouldn’t have been too bad if we hadn’t had to lean out of the windows on either side as the windscreen was almost obliterated by damp dust! At any left hand bend Roger lost all view of the tail lights and I had to shout (because both windows were down and the engine noise was almost overpowered by The Who backing track which seemed to be stuck on a loop on the CD player) directions to stay out of the undergrowth until he resumed visibility.

imag4035As we neared the house we could see enough to notice the orange glow in the sky, not too far away from where the rubbish had been burnt the previous night. This had been eventful enough for the boys when some unspent cartridges, aerosols or other pressurised containers exploded. The dump is just over the side of the road about 2-300 yds from the house. When we had retired to bed that night I did wander around the corner of the garden to check the state of the previously towering flames, under the impression that all would have died down, only to note that the flames, which must have been over 10 feet tall, were still visible. The boys returned to throw some buckets of water on to it and all seemed to be ok.

imag403624hours later the glow had shifted along and after dropping everything off Roger and I went out with John to investigate. We jumped back into the ute but before going any distance both of them leapt out, leaving both doors open whilst John yelled at me to put the break on. I stupidly tried the hand break but nothing happened as I trundled towards the fencing! I should have remembered that it didn’t work as I’d nearly been run over by it previously when I’d had trouble opening some ‘gates’ which were actually just the join in 2 fence panels so John had got out to help me, not really noticing that we were on a bit of a slope until I was just about to be nudged into the panel by the front bumper!

Anyway, the starter motor had failed so they were fixing that before setting off to check the fire which transpired to have spread along the bottom of the gully and ignited a little copse of trees further along that track. We drove past, noting the flaming tree trunks adjacent to us, checked its furthest limits and returned, just somewhat hampered by 2 trunks which had fallen across our path in the few minutes we’d taken to turn around and come back!

imag4037We returned to the house and John rigged up a pressure tank with hose which worked off the car battery. As the wiring was a bit dodgy and the cable traversed the passenger side of the ute we 3, now joined by Jamie, had to stand on the back of the flat bed whilst we drove past the burning trees again! At least we were able to gain full advantage of the lovely aroma of burning eucalyptus!!

The plan was to set up a back burn i.e. burn off all the highly inflammable fuel (grass, weeds, etc) in the path of the fire by burning back towards the main body but damping down the edge where we wanted it to stop. I was to operate the pump switch from the passenger seat which I had to climb in to from the drivers side, without knocking it out of gear as that was the only breaking mechanism! As these trucks have long gear sticks it left me about 3 inches through which to wriggle my leg, (maybe once a long time ago!) Also I had to ensure that I didn’t cause it to stall as it probably wouldn’t start again. All this within a few feet of a blazing bush fire, headed towards me before I could reach the switch which operated the water pump! No pressure then?!

imag4038Somehow I managed it, but am still unsure quite how, then Roger jumped in beside me to drive up and reverse back along the advancing fire line which Jamie was exacerbating by igniting frequent bunches of dead grass under direction from John, who was soaking the front line from the tank on the back of the ute, powered by the car engine. Amazingly it all seemed to be working well, even though we were unbelievably close to the inferno, studying particularly burning tree trunks which would reach us if they fell towards us, until the engine stalled and died spontaneously!



John calmly said to wait 5 minutes and start the engine again by knocking the starter motor with a big metal crow bar as the key was turned. This happened 3 times in total with each engine sound becoming progressively more ropey with each restart. Finally John was happy that the fire was contained enough for us to leave it before the vehicle gave up completely and we returned to the house with me still trapped in the passenger seat. I had already decided that I would sacrifice the pump’s power supply if I felt in any immediate danger! We returned to the house relatively unscathed but after a long day in the saddle, up the hill, fencing and having our ‘lunch’ at 6pm, followed by a hairy drive with no lights through woodland and 2 hours fire-fighting I didn’t feel like waiting for an evening meal so collapsed into bed, after what had been a very eventful day in the outback. Thank goodness they haven’t all been like this!

19. Extreme Fencing!

imag4017Well this was quite an eventful day. We were going fencing, right up to the top and back of the paddock where we had previously looked for elusive cattle. So armed with our coils of wire slung over our heads and one shoulder and my trusty steed acting as pack horse with 3 different sets of fencing pliers in saddle bags, we set off. John had been a little critical of some ‘backpackers’, the ubiquitous term for us lot, (although some people do struggle with referring to ourselves by this even though I am using a backpack) having wrecked the horses by making them walk slowly instead of the purposeful rhythm they are trained to adopt. I ended up in front so was determined not to be accused of the same so set a decent pace assisted by my familiarity with the country. I was also quite chuffed to be the person who spotted the aforementioned escapees, despite having relinquished pole position to John by that time.

imag4024When we reached the back fence we commenced our ascent along to the left and soon rose to some giddy heights. As I/Quantum was tool carrier we had to follow John even to less hospitable places than the others, but she performed with the steadiness and steadfastness which is essential for stock horses in this country. We negotiated a basalt bluff rather tentatively, apart from yours truly, bringing up the rear with confidence in my 4 legged carrier. She did however make a huge stumble at one point but immediately righted herself with a  vigorous buck to release her back end, which is just as well as some stock horses get shot if they are prone to falling over on difficult terrain!

imag4023The fence damage was quite extensive and by 4.30 we had used up all the spare wire and most of the daylight prior to our return journey. As we had eventually set off at 11am, having breakfasted at 7.30, we were pretty hungry, as lunch was back at the yard! By 5pm we were starting our descent but John was continuing around the top boundary to check the condition of the fence further on. He arranged for Roger to trot all the way back to the yard, once we had reached relatively level ground, so he could grab the ute (utility vehicle) and meet him at the far end of the paddock. The remaining 3 of us were to take it steady as Shauna was riding poor old Bungee, who had toiled up the hillside with relative ease, despite her disgust at riding an old horse. She did however, see fit to keep whipping him all the way back even though he was keeping up! hmmm! That was in between comments akin to ‘are we there yet!’

imag4022We finally reached the yard paddock and I was able to open and close the gate from my saddle which I was quite pleased about (Roger had managed the same a bit earlier from Star) despite Jamie’s puppy-like eagerness to do everything for everyone. This time I had just managed to get it closed as he hit the ground from his dismount. Heyho.

18. Mustering

imag3986Fortunately this didn’t work out quite as hard as we thought it would be for 2 reasons. Firstly we managed to find most of the cattle reasonably easily and they came without too much trouble. They are trained to the dogs and horses when they are young, moved around just to  become used to it. Secondly we lost a horse so there was one less mount than riders. A gate was inadvertently left open the night before we were due to start so the working horse decided to explore new pastures and not come back nor be found. Consequently, on that first morning we offered to do half a day each, sharing our horse, as we thought we may struggle with the intensity of the riding.

imag3990So my first job was to bid farewell to Roger and the others as they set off with the dogs and sat in the shade of the Koolibar tree with my book. I was entertained by some beautiful blue kingfisher type birds with bright orange undersides to their wings, dipping and diving, possibly in a mating ritual, but flashing brilliant colours in the reflected sunshine. I was ‘serenaded’ by the indigenous kookaburra, now that we know what that is. We had become aware of the sounds in the trees resembling a group of monkeys ooh, ooh, ooh, ahhing to an ever increasing crescendo. At Bodalla we asked Rob what this ‘monkey bird’ was as we had managed to confirm that there were none of the aforementioned primates in the vicinity, only birds. He was rather surprised and amused at our ignorance of this Aussie icon as he explained it being a kookaburra and even after our description couldn’t hear the resemblance. We were reprieved by our compatriots thinking exactly the same as us before we enlightened them with our new found knowledge. It may sound a little bit like the laughter of a ‘merry merry king of the bush’ but he must be slightly hysterical or even maniacal.

Poor sweaty horse!

Poor sweaty horse!

At lunchtime on this first day Roger and I swapped our, at that stage nameless, mount who transpired to be called Bungey. He was an excellent horse, a fast walker which is very important and a real worker. This was fine apart from the fact that he could have been somewhere between 18 and 20 years old. I had been told not to take him up into the high country but thought that the slopes he negotiated, amazingly steadily all things considered, were too steep for him but I was apparently being too soft. imag4004We were trawling steep hillsides which were cut with even steeper gullies which we descended and ascended with increasing regularity, sometimes not even being able to see any ground ahead of us as horse and rider plummeted down the slopes before jumping across the ditch at the bottom and leaping up the seemingly vertical wall on the other side. I quickly realised that the best tactic was to let him do what he’s good at and just make sure I stayed on. I’m quite proud to say that I didn’t even need to use the sh*t strap, so called as its requirement is usually when one is thinking ‘oh sh*t’! Obviously though these were not really photo opportunities for a rider of my standard but I did just manage this one on an easier gully.

Poor Bungey was given a reprieve the following day and Dallas had remained elusive. Ray’s daughter wasn’t joining us so we were still one horse down and guess who dipped out again as I had wanted to ride all day this time. I wasn’t too pleased at this as there were at least 2 other people, both complaining of aches and pains, who could have taken a turn to sit out but declined, so I missed the next morning’s ride. Fortunately Jamie went off with Ray to take the weaners in the truck back to his paddocks so we were back to the same number of riders as horses in the afternoon. I rode Quantum Leap who I should have ridden in the first place before it was determined that Shauna wasn’t quite as accomplished rider as she claimed to be. They were both experienced English style and arena riders but this wild/rough riding on stock horses was a very different method which Jamie has picked up quite quickly even if his cattle experience does only extend to 3 days unlike my 7 months! but that’s another story!

imag3995imag3998The cattle had to be sorted in the yards which Roger had done at Bodalla and in Canada last year but was new to Jamie however the 2 of them did seem to be able to take on a calf successfully! There was also a tiny calf who was struggling to feed as all 4 of mum’s teets had prolapsed and each was about the size of an udder, dangling rather close to the ground. The poor little mite couldn’t get low enough and certainly didn’t have a large enough mouth to latch on independently. This difficulty was compounded by the flap of loose skin these Brahman breeds have hanging from their necks, to aid heat loss, which is at the wrong end but suckling babies don’t seem to be able to differentiate back from front initially!

imag40083 days of riding, mustering, searching and driving were interspersed with the yard work so we are quite relieved to find ourselves remarkably unscathed, if just a little saddle sore. We had a super time on the last day when we spent nearly 4 hours checking a paddock where there may have been some elusive cattle hiding out. imag3994We didn’t find them but enjoyed the ride, particularly when we were sent off on our own to check 2 fence lines. On return from that we went straight out into another smaller paddock and collected 172 (I had to count them in the sorting) head, not including calves, from that and an adjoining paddock before finally stopping for a break and well needed water. Roger has been lucky enough to enjoy a few canters on his new, fairly inexperienced mount, Star, and now has another equine shape engraved in his heart. In tyring to keep the cattle fairly calm and steady one does have to keep the speed down. Chasing after them just makes them run away faster and the terrain is so rough that a horse tripping at speed could result in fairly nasty injury so the opportunities to canter are few but grabbed when possible.

Monday offering to drive!

Monday offering to drive!

After more sorting and worming we drove 75 of them back down the lane into yet another paddock to join the 8 bulls which we had brought in the previous day. John’s only precaution with these huge beasts was to get the hell out of there if 2 bulls were sizing up for a fight. Fortunately we didn’t have to take this evasive action but were on our guard anyway. I had taken over the herding of a cow and calf from Ray as he would be more useful elsewhere. This particular pair were rather slow as the the little one had been attacked by dingos, not uncommon unfortunately just more rare that he survived. However he had a big abscess on the side of his hip and a chunk out of the top of his rump. We were heading up slowly, quite well behind the main herd when they all turned to charge us down, or so it seemed. What was actually happening was that the dogs were keeping them in a group whilst others joined them. As the cattle wont stand still in these circumstances the dogs keep them moving back and forth as a complete mass. This was a little disconcerting as I watched over a hundred head running straight towards us, quite spread out so there was no way I could evade them at either end so decided to stand side on (bigger area) and hope that Quantum stayed still. Fortunately she is an old hand and never flinched a muscle despite my probable tension. Anyway my charges were swept into the mele and were only disgorged at the end of the day when babe became separated from mum and had to be taken to the rest of the herd by transport, having his abscess lanced with a penknife (causing Shauna to vomit!) before being released for mum to lick clean. We aren’t going to think about what will happen to the little girl whose mum has the swollen teets 🙁