From Ducati to boda-boda bicycle...the Billary Effect

My vet told me I could start riding Joya again, as she is over her bout of billary (tick-borne disease, nasty!). Yesterday we went on a short hack, mostly walking with some trotting and a few very short canters.

She was fine, but the difference between Joya in top condition, and Joya after an illness and three weeks off work, is huge! Since I'd recently been wrangling with my husband and son about which is more fun, motorcycles or horses (I know, stupid question), the comparison that came to mind was between a Ducati and the bicycle taxis here, which are called boda-bodas.

Because one thing horses teach you is to look at the bright side of your setbacks -- a great gift, really -- I have decided to take advantage of Joya's rather low-energy state to work on the things she just doesn't tolerate working on when she is feeling strong. Getting on the bit while at the walk, for example. Smoothing out her turn on the forehand. Really straightening out our signals for turn on the haunches.

Meanwhile, I'll be dropping my stirrups more and doing more sitting while trotting.

Goodbye Riffraff

I did say that I would be going on and on about my great S. African safari, didn't I?

This will be it, though, I promise...

I just wanted to mention two particular moments that will stick with me for a long time.

The first is from our longest wild charge down the beach.  Just before giving us the Go signal, Howard told us all, "Just one thing to watch out for. Sometimes there might be a baby seal on the beach this time of year, and when they see the horses coming sometimes they move. Nothing to worry about, but your horse might be startled."

I immediately filed that under the things guides tell us to make us think we might have an adventure...like the elaborate inspection of any bush you are considering going behind to have a quick pee when out in the bush. "Lions. You never know." I just never believe that there's going to be a lion.

Silly me. Two minutes down the beach, and a baby seal -- just as cute as you might expect, if not cuter -- makes a mad dash for the sea, right in front of us. None of the horses spooked, and he wriggled safely out of our way.

The second was on our last day of riding. We had gone with Howard to one of the farms where he pastures his horses to bring a bunch of expectant mares and a few older foals over to Farm 215. Howard was riding his boss mare Nona, who looked about ready to give birth right there in the road, and the rest of us were on our regular rides. Howard and Nona led the way, the other mares and foals following, and the rest of us behind to discourage stragglers.

One part of our path took us alongside a big reservoir of water for the farms nearby. Because it's been raining so much, the path along one side of the reservoir was actually under about two feet of water. It was just so much fun watching the foals and their moms splashing through the water, then following them, everyone just having a good time. Then our final long canter along the shore of the reservoir... right by a pair of blue cranes, enormous strange birds, making their rackety clackety sound.

Hanging out with Riffraff, continued....

Our five days of S. African riding was centered on the Stanford/Hermanus/Gasbaai area. According to the Farm 215 website, Hermanus hosts the only traffic light in the entire Overberg region, and that is NOT meant as a compliment to Hermanus.

Between Hermanus and Gansbaai is a beautiful stretch of sandy shore that is a nature reserve. Howard's company is allowed access to the reserve for riding. On our first day, that beach was our destination, with our minds on a wild beach gallop to test our horse/rider partnerships, and our nerves.

A plan that was made without regard for the WIND. It was howling off the ocean that day (this is spring in S. Africa, and the weather tends towards the psychotically changeable). As we trudged through the dunes edging closer to the shore, the wind grew stronger and stronger, picking up more and more of that fine white sand. We struggled to find things to wrap around our faces, going for that Lawrence of Arabia-meets-Hidalgo look, managed a few minutes actually on the beach, and then retreated, joking about how we hadn't been told about the free micro-dermabrasion treatments included in the safari.

From there, we trekked to a beautiful self-catering guesthouse behind the dunes, which came complete with a herd of eland outside, satellite TV inside. Inside Sven, the mainstay of the safari support effort, was putting out the sour-cream-and-onion flavored potato chips and cooking pasta, also uncorking a nice bottle of S. African red (all the best stuff stays in the country, very selfish of them). 

Howard's wife and daughter were also there to greet us, along with their brand new puppy. I wish I could tell you her name, but each time I asked, I got a different answer...Chewy and Panda are the two I remember.