This is from Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom, the sort of thing you learn when travelling with a 4 and 2 year old. Somehow seemed to be the theme song for Home Valley, our next stop after Drysdale Station.
We were really only stopping there as a staging point to El Questro. We didn't expect much as our research told us that there was little exploring we could do here on our own. This place had been set up as a tourist resort so everything was packaged into costly tours.
Home Valley is nestled next to the imposing Cockburn Range. As we approached we were treated to sweeping views of the misty blue, flat topped range. It felt like we had entered a western movie set. This theme was only enhanced when we arrived at the resort. Old historic wagons, western saddles and plenty of cowboy style hats in view. The restaurant was a large, open corrugated shed. There promised(or threatened) to be live music of an evening- country and western obviously. Ugh!
We had planned 2 nights here so there was some discussion as to the activities for the next day. The Barra fishing was a no brainer. See my blog entitled " How to catch a Barra." Brit was happy to relax at camp with the kids.
The other activity that caught my eye was a sunset trail ride. Love fishing and horses so a double plus for me. I was a bit surprised when both Brit and Torb decided to join me. Simon and Pauly delegated the child minding duties for this one.
Down to the stables half an hour before the start time to get set up with horse and gear. Our guide was a young woman from the NSW high country, just here for the tourist season. The horses, with the exception of one or two, were all ex stock horses enjoying a semi retirement. They were all "aged," the oldest 23. Bit like Torb and I really. These horses were trucked to Catherine for the wet season and then trucked back to Home Valley. The wet at Home Valley was considered too harsh for them.
In deference to the range of riding ability this was a gentle ride through the rocky scrub, a wade through a creek and a climb to a rise to watch the setting sun illuminate the Cockburn Range. At the view point was a table and chairs and drinks and nibbles provided. These had been transported on the pack horse, which seemed a bit on the eccentric side. He was tied to a tree as we relaxed and managed to get stuck under a branch, then break branches off the tree. After our guide had sorted him out he just lowered his head and watched her mournfully as if to say " I couldn't help it!"
Our small group comprised some experienced riders and real beginners. A young German fellow confided that he had never been on horse before. You could tell- the veritable sack of kartoffeln. His partner was clearly very at home in the saddle. She absolutely beamed with happiness the whole ride.
Our guide's knowledge of each individual horse was phenomenal. Some had colds, one liked to splash in the stream and would roll in the water given half the chance, one always farted when he coughed, my mount(a grey named Pearl) would stumble if you didn't keep her alert, one had tumours but every time he lost condition and they talked about putting him down he rallied...and so on. The pack horse drove her nuts.
As we wended our way back to the stables I reflected on the day. Fishing in the morning, fresh barramundi for lunch, 3 hours with horses in the afternoon. Not bad. Wagons are rolling...
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