Blazing Saddles

Kalbarri is a tiny town on the coast completely supported by tourists coming to explore the magnificent gorges of the Kalbarri National Park. It’s almost 100 km off the Brand highway, so once you’re there, you’re pretty much committed to spending at least one night. On the road into town, I spotted the sign for Big River Ranch - a farmstay that also offers trail rides. Ding ding ding! Sold.

It was a bit of a chore to find someone in charge when we rolled up. There were masses of horses in the paddocks, a black lab shaped doormat and a staffie mix who, judging from the scab on his head, had recently been in an argument with one of the other residents. Greta emerged from behind a long line of sheets drying on the line and ushered us into the family suite, attached to the stables. We booked a trail ride for the morning and settled in for the night. 

We were awoken at 5:38 the following morning by the roosters, followed quickly by a heated argument between two geese in the stables right beside my head, and then the kookaburras joined in the chorus. 

This is a tree full of gallahs right outside our bedroom window. They have an extremely loud, screechy call.

There were nine of us there for the trail ride and Simon, the foreman, introduced us to our horses. I got Flash, a big chestnut I hoped was named for the white mark on his head and not his speed (although we did later learn that they are all retired racing horses). After about a km, Simon offered to take us on a canter if we were comfortable and those interested were instructed to peel off to the right. I was undecided until I saw Isabelle go to the right and thought I should be a responsible parent and join her. Rob followed right behind me and it wasn’t until later that I realized we had completely abandoned Sophie in the walking group. So much for effective parenting.

A few shouted instructions from Simon and all of a sudden, everyone was galloping hell bent for leather over the sand dunes. I’m glad Flash knew what he was doing because I sure the hell didn’t. Isabelle was in front of me yelling “Haw! Haw!” at the top of her lungs and Rob was behind me channeling his inner cowboy – me? I was just trying to stay on. After about an hour (or maybe 3 minutes? Hard to tell.), we met up with the walking group and headed to the Murchison River.

The trail ride brochure advertised “a walk through the river” with a picture of a group walking sedately through water up to the horses ankles. In reality, the water came up to the top of the saddle with the horses barely maintaining contact with the river bed. Refreshing, but unexpected.

One of the only pictures we have of the ride - that's Sophie up in front in the white hoodie.

Simon kept up a running commentary about the farm and their animals the entire ride, telling us all the things they like to do to keep the horses active and entertained. One great way to do this is to switch up the trail rides as often as possible. He decreed us experienced enough to go on a challenging path that they seldom use for our gallop back to the ranch. 

Oh my lord, love a duck. 

Again, we separated and raced through bushes, around tight corners and over dunes, just like in The Man from Snowy River. That scene when he goes down the embankment? Really. It was just like that. Maybe minus 45 degrees or so on the angle of the hill. But just like that.

We all arrived safely back at the ranch, sopping wet and exhilarated. Three days later, I am still contemplating the term “saddle sore” and my runners have only just dried out.