Flying finish!

Some years ago we spent a weekend at a friend's farm near Tulbagh. I was (obviously) much younger then and had fond memories of my teenage horseriding years, and we were easily persuaded to go on a outride across the countryside on the farm horses. I made it quite clear that I wanted a placid, obedient horse, as I was not particularly fit and hadn't been in the saddle for 20 years or so. I was assured that my mount was so docile as to be almost asleep and that I might have trouble keeping it going.

All went well as we ambled along, with a little trot from time to time, although I noticed that my horse wanted to be right behind the leader. Hooves clip-clopped gently on the stony track, with the horses occasionally pausing to grab a quick bite to eat. The ground looked particularly hard, with no soft sand to break a fall, but as things were pretty quiet, we enjoyed the majestic mountain scenery and kept our mouths firmly closed against invasion by the endless swarms of tiny midges that surrounded us. But then it was time to turn for home.

I might be forgiven for thinking that someone had inserted a lit firecracker up my horse's rear end, as it changed character the instant I pulled the reins to turn it around. We took off as though it was the start of the Durban July Handicap, with the only handicap being that the horse had a rider! Hooves thundered along the ground, sparks flying off the rocks as we belted for home, nose in the wind and fast overtaking the rest of the  field. Not being the smooth grass of a racetrack, the horse stumbled several times, narrowly missing a connection of its nose with the track, and if I hadn't had years of training on how to hold on with my legs, I would have been cartwheeled into the veld. This horse had a homing instinct that a racing pigeon would envy and he was going to be first across the finishing line, riderless if need be.

There was absolutely nothing I could do to rein him in. He must have had a mouth like concrete, or else had been trained to go faster as you gathered the reins. I doubt whether I portrayed the smooth style of a championship jockey, but I stayed on until the finish line outside his stable due only to fear of falling off and knocking my teeth out. I was determined that was not going to happen.

The stable boys pretended surprise and amazement to learn of my steed's uncharacteristic return trip, but I strongly suspect they anticipated and enjoyed it in direct contrast to my experience!