That track

A couple of weeks ago I started investigating a track with Gally. Today, I get up early and we ride off into the second plantation, to investigate the track fully.

I have since looked at the map in more detail, and have secret hopes that the track crosses the creek and returns to the first plantation.

After yesterday's experience, I have every intention of taking the whip with me. But the day is so windy, that I decide to leave it behind. I will regret this later.

The track meanders beautifully along a ridge. Then we come to a huge bog hole. There are tracks to the left and right of the bog hole. We take the track on the right, and at the very end it meets up with the bog. Sure, you can pass without getting a hoof wet, but you have to get really close to the big black pool. Gally is convince there's a better way. Like maybe just going home.

I stick my spurs in, and he very quickly starts going backwards. Now, what was it about that whip? I keep my spurs on until he takes the smallest step forward. Then I take a break, and snap myself a little twig. It's like a fly swat against a gun. We fight this battle for a while. Eventually, I win. Sort of. We make it past the bog hole. But not exactly where I wanted to go. Gally prefers to bush bash, than skirt the bog. This will cost me.

However, the upside of the experience is that Gally finds another gear, an extra spark in his step, some extra zest for life. All of a sudden, he is interested in the ride. He wants to do the odd trot when the track is even. He is willing. It's awesome.

As much as I am overjoyed with my horse and his new found attitude, I am disappointed in the track. We can see the creek below, but the track makes no effort to cross it. Rather it meanders alongside, teasingly getting closer and closer to it.

Eventually it comes to the creek's edge. The creek is a mere dry bed. It's not even remotely wet. It would be dead easy to cross, right here, right now. But the track makes no attempt. You can cross at your own peril and bush bash your way home. I look at the typical Australian bush, self similar and dense in places. Not without a map thanks.

I return to the track, which meanders up the hill and crosses a tributary. On the other side of the tributary it goes up steeply. I am willing to go up the track, but should it lead to nowhere, I am not really willing to come back down it. We turn around and head home.

Gally, realising we're heading home, gets an extra spark in his stride, and bravely trots and canters over some tricky terrain. I actually have to slow him down in places. The bog hole causes us many issues, but we get past it eventually. Then we canter on. Slowly I release the reins until I am just holding onto the buckle. Then I sit back and enjoy the most wonderful canter I have ever had in my life.