Steady pace ... Reynella riders among wildflowers in the Kosciuszko National Park.
Mountain men walk differently; they swagger, with their thumbs pressed into their pockets. With feet planted apart, duck-like, they pull the saddles from their mounts and hammer out their horseshoes with straight backs and elbows tucked in, a posture as natural as breathing.
I'm just outside Adaminaby with the riders of Reynella, ready to gallop into the wild valleys of the Kosciuszko National Park and camp under the stars. Leading us on this adventure is John Rudd, Kevin's cousin, a sheep and cattle farmer who has been taking guests on rides through Kosciuszko for 38 years.
Rudd has a quiet assuredness to him and the weathered skin of a life lived outdoors. As our group of seven heads into the hills, we are accompanied by three Reynella riders to guide us along the trail. As we assemble on the edge of Kosciuszko, we try to squirm into borrowed chaps and riding helmets, while Rudd and his long-time saddle partner, Conrad Maphias, disappear into the scrub to round up the horses.
There's a chill in the mountain air as we wait for them. I'm a little excited, a little apprehensive – apart from novelty afternoon camel rides in the deserts of India, my riding experience is, ahem, limited. Minutes later, Rudd and Maphias walk back into the open. Rudd walks towards the gate and closes it, muttering: "Here they come."
And on cue, a mob of black, grey and chestnut horses gallops through the gully towards us, raising a cloud of dust, nostrils flaring. They circle us, snorting.
I've been told that horses often choose their riders. Rudd and Maphias note my trepidation about being the last kid picked for the team and make the decision for me, choosing a stout little horse called Oscar. We'll do this in true bushman style, Rudd says. "We'll eat when we're hungry and sleep when we're tired." I slip in at the back of the group with my instructor, Lesley, a Canadian with a soft drawl and a big black hat. He tells me to keep my heels pointed down and to clench my upper thighs against the saddle if I want Oscar to speed up. I'm more than happy to trot and begin to realise how hard it is to sit in a saddle.
As we plough through a creek, I tuck my elbows in, concentrate on my feet and try to ignore my legs as they gradually go numb. Only occasionally do I look up from Oscar's twitching ears towards the valleys of alpine scrub and the streaks of snow still lingering on the hills. As the sun peaks in the sky, we switchback through the dense bush, swerving around the limbs of white-barked snow gums on Gang Gang Mountain.
The isolation is broken only by a far-off vapour trail. We catch glimpses of mountains on the horizon, ringed by the hollowed corpses of trees burnt during the 2003 fires that tore through the national park. I get snagged on branches a few times as we level out on the clearing at Gavel's Ridge and stop for a well-earned rest. Chatting over a lunch of gourmet sandwiches and fruit cake, I'm told of the wild brumbies that run in the national park in their thousands. Rudd estimates there are at least 2000 wild horses still tearing through the mountain valleys.
I hear stories of Rudd and Maphias's brumby rides as younger men, when they would spend all afternoon circling a herd to try to round up a single wild brumby. Despite the romanticism, Rudd tells me he has probably lost more of his horses to wild herds than the other way around.
Over tea he asks how I'm going and I nod confidently, though clearly Oscar is the one in charge. As we put out our fire, Rudd reassures me that "they're bigger'n us but we're smarter'n them; remember that and you'll be fine".
I try to keep those words in mind as we continue through the afternoon, cantering beneath a canopy of gums to Nungar Plain, a low valley stripped of vegetation by the harsh winter frosts. As the other riders open the throttle on their mounts, I watch Lesley beside me and, like him, I stand in my saddle a little. As my hips tighten and my cramping heels press into the stirrups, I reach forward and grab Oscar's mane. Before I know it, the horse is ploughing through the grass at a gallop. I'm thrown around inelegantly but manage to stay aloft and we gallop across the open valley of wildflowers, past the isolated Gavel's Hut, with Yankee Hat Hill in the distance.
We begin to descend and here we can see curling mountain streams on our right. In the distance, a gap in the bush reveals our Ware's Yard campsite. After a full day in the saddle and 30 kilometres of mountain trails, we reach our destination under stringy barks and towering gums.
The fire is lit and we sit on camp chairs in the fading afternoon light with red-necked wallabies dashing just beyond our tents. As we kick off our boots, we are joined by Brendan Warren and Cathy Grace, two more of Reynella's riders. They boil the billy and talk with excitement of the stallion they broke in last week.
The complications of a global economic meltdown are irrelevant here. Warren and Grace ride like nomadic Mongolian horsemen, ready to pick up and ride off at a moment's notice.
The sun retreats behind the trees, beers are cracked and a bundle of fresh trout is barbecued on the fire. The riders tell stories of nights spent in the huts of the national park while on cattle runs from Adaminaby, sharing their food with fellow horsemen while out on rides and one peculiar tale when Rudd's father found a brumby in a tree; it was frozen 20 yards in the air, lying lifeless in the branches after the heavy snowfalls of the season had melted.
I ask where the pillows are. With a laugh I'm told: "You sleep on your boots in the bush!" I'm so tired I could sleep on a fence. It's then, when I stand up to say goodnight, that I notice the pain. My back is ruler straight, locked into saddle position. And as much as I try to resist, my feet splay outwards, just like a duck, and I swagger towards the tent like a mountain man.
Ben Stubbs travelled courtesy of Reynella Rides and Tourism NSW.
FAST FACTS
Getting there
Cooma is four hours' drive from Sydney. From Cooma, head north towards Adaminaby, 50 kilometres away. Before reaching the town, follow the clearly marked sign for Kingston Road on the right for about 9 kilometres and turn left into the Reynella driveway.
Reynella Rides has three-day, four-night homestead rides starting on October 2 and during the October school holidays; $767 adults, $574 students. It has numerous three- to six-day safari rides into Kosciuszko National Park for beginner to advanced skill levels from November 1. A three-day beginner to advanced ride costs $1133, including food, horses, accommodation and camping gear. Phone John and Roslyn Rudd on 1800 029 909 or email reynella@activ8.net.au.
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