This entry conjours up visions of an outback holiday.
Imagining my ideal holiday
Dawn breaks with the smell of greenery, horses and a campfire being nudged into life. Soon we will have some coffee brewing. This is life. Well, no, but it could be life for a week or two, a horseback holiday I have often dreamed of taking.
There would be just a handful of riders, with our guide an easy-going guy who sleeps with his hat on or a woman with a greying ponytail and a horseshoe tattooed on her arm.
We would ride through scrub and forest, maybe even along the beach, the soothing rhythm of the horses beneath us, occasionally stopping for tea or a packed lunch. By late afternoon we would reach our destination for the day. This could be a hut with bunk beds and running water or just a big tree or a creek where we could pitch our tents. Always, there would be a campfire.
Tired but happy, we would spend our last night at the homestead of an old farming family. They would treat us to a home-cooked dinner and tales of the old times, when life was slower and closer to the earth. Maybe someone would play the guitar and sing a song. We would start our last day fortified by hospitality, gratitude, and eggs courtesy of the farm chooks. And as we ride into the risen sun, life would be good. We would go home with the smell of horses lingering in our clothes for days to come.