With hindsight, attempting to clamber back into the saddle three wines down was bound to end badly. I don't even drink at lunch. No, really.
Just as my left foot hit the stirrup iron and I went to lunge off the ground and leap aboard in one graceful movement (in front of about, oh, 20 bystanders), my mount Coltie sidestepped that critical half-inch – just enough to see me come floundering down.
Packing for a four-day horse trek through Tasmania's rugged central north near the aptly named Meander River, I thought I'd covered all contingencies: from SPF50+ sunscreen to neck-to-toe oilskin, gloves, riding helmet still in warranty, boots with heels and fine-seamed jeans that wouldn't chafe. The prospect of drink-riding never occurred to me.
Out of curiosity, I casually phone the police on returning home to ask: "Is there a legal alcohol limit to riding a horse in Australia?"
Long awkward silence: "Ah ... are you ringing to report something?"
Oh whatever. It was only three glasses.
As a pony-mad girl (a few decades ago now), I kept two horses on the north-western outskirts of Sydney. Back then, anything went, including a guy who kept an ex-racehorse in his parents' suburban home, locked in the laundry at night with some straw and the sink filled with water. His mum loved that the horse kept the grass down around the Hills Hoist.
These days it's more difficult to hitch a ride, as ever-ballooning housing developments and business parks squeeze livestock further beyond city limits – and horsey people give up riding and start breeding cats.
So being phoned by Kate Pilcher from Globetrotting horse-riding holidays out of the blue and asked to report on their four-day Tassie Tiger Trail ride was akin to being sent Pegasus in a pink pop-out cake.
"What are the horses like?" I ask, thinking this is surely too good to be true. Having signed up for various trail rides over the years to get my horse fix, only to end up weeping over the fate of your average riding school plodder, I'm equine risk-adverse.
"Don't worry, they're fantastic – you won't be disappointed," Pilcher volleys back. "Purebred and part-Arabian endurance horses: competition fit and raring to go." I'm in.
A childhood passion rekindled
At 11.30pm the night before my 6am flight to Launceston, the bed is still covered with four colour-coordinated riding outfits (including socks) on which I'm conducting a final fashion check. My husband groans and heads for the couch.
By the time I get to the airport, I'm effectively 12 years old again. The plane can't get to Launceston fast enough. I haven't been this horse excited since the pre-release screening of the Phar Lap movie in 1983.
I meet Pilcher in Launceston airport – she's flown down from her home on the Sunshine Coast. A former journalist and editor, Pilcher started Globetrotting in 2007. Similar to international sites such as Ride World Wide, the idea is to match first-rate horses with beautiful locations. Today, she has almost 30 rides across more than 10 countries, including Mongolia, Argentina – and new for 2017, on exotic Sumba Island, a 45-minute flight east of Bali's Denpasar.
In Australia, you can ride with Globetrotting in Noosa, the Kimberley – and the Tassie Tiger Trail, hosted by Jen Clingly and Jeremy Ford of Gem Farm in northern Tasmania.
We arrive in the tiny town of Deloraine, a 40-minute drive from Launceston Airport, to drop our bags at Bonney's Inn – originally a 19th-century inn for solo lady travellers – where we'll bed down each night in cosy B&B; rooms. Deloraine is an apt home for the annual Tasmania Craft Fair (November 3-6 this year). The town has an earthy, arty feel and the scenery – soft clouds over Meander River, framed by low-lying mountain ranges – is as quaint and perfect as the main street.
It's a 10-minute drive to Gem Farm, where we arrive just on lunch time. The first thing you notice is the attention to detail that goes into this riding holiday. Knowing we'll be geed up but tired after an early morning of travel, Clingly and Ford usher our group of seven riders into their large, open-plan kitchen to dish up homemade pumpkin soup and bread rolls followed by cupcakes, all served by a crackling potbelly fire.
Various animals, cats and dogs, land on our laps and by our feet, expertly judging who will drop the first crumbs under the table or offer the best ear scratch.
The sweetest scent
Then it's out to the horses for some groundwork and a quick lesson in natural horsemanship, also known as liberty training. We spend the afternoon cuddling and brushing horses, inhaling that sweetest aroma of all, the smell of a mane with underlying notes of saddle soap and eucalyptus leaf.
A few hours on, we reassemble in the kitchen for a three-course meal and cheese platter – all sourced from local ingredients. A few bottles of crisp white Tassie wine makes for easy conversation as we get to know each other: a mother and her adult daughter have travelled from Queensland to be here; two lifelong friends who were former colleagues have flown in from Sydney, as has a glamorous 30-something French IT ex-pat whose Australian boyfriend doesn't ride. (We spend the next four days enviously eyeing her stylish European riding attire.) And last but not least, wonderful Jan, a down-to-earth Victorian nurse in her 60s who has come to rediscover her girlhood passion. We laugh that it's seven women – really, what is it about girls and horses ...
The best bit of the evening is reading the LOL descriptions Clingly has penned of the various horses' personalities. One pearler in particular is Ruby – "a big black limousine and boss lady of the farm". She has a rump you could set a table on.
I've scored Colt 45 – better known as "Coltie" and described as "The Gun: he marches to and from work with a 'life be in it' motto. For a responsive ride with softness and spark, Coltie is your man."
The equine in question is a compact, 15-hands high, 10‑year‑old, dark-brown Arab with a dished face, bedroom eyes and healthy self-esteem. He welcomes me with a "Before we get too cosy, let's just see what I make of you" flick of his thick tangled forelock.
Day two, we're up early. Jen collects us from Bonney's Inn and loads us into the shuttle bus. We've already discovered Deloraine Deli at the top of Emu Bay Road, with coffee that would keep a Melbourne barista on their toes.
Each day, the horses are trucked to a local destination so we can cover a variety of terrain, including a windswept beach, mountain trails, bush and rainforest. First up is our longest day of riding – conquering the Great Western Tiers. At 1250 metres above sea level we enjoy a picnic lunch looking down on the limestone-rich dairy country fanned out around us. Gem Farm's pride in natural horsemanship means the horses are ridden in bitless bridles and clip-on hoof boots in lieu of metal hammered-on shoes. It's exhilarating to ride such healthy, happy horses. Many of them are of the same bloodline, bred on the farm.
An endurance rider's mecca
Tasmania is an endurance rider's mecca – and we have company on our first day in the form of a top competitor, local rider Keryn Mahoney. With 19 Quilty buckles to her name (the 160-kilometre Tom Quilty Gold Cup is Australia's most famous endurance ride), Mahoney greets us at the base of the ride aboard her imposing grey mare, Priscilla.
Mahoney, 50, has covered some impressive miles over her career, as have her horses. When one of her top geldings, Sarisha, died recently aged 29, "he had 17,000 kilometres logged on the clock", says Mahoney. He still holds the record for the most Quilty buckles won by a single horse – 11.
Famed for their beauty, intelligence and sure-footedness, Arabian horses often look like they float over the ground. Our mounts are no exception, making swift work of the steep climb up rocky ground as their riders twist around in the saddle to finish a conversation, duck to avoid low‑hanging branches and drop the reins to snap the scenery. Despite the fact we're 12 riders today, there are lengthy group silences of utter peace and satisfaction, peppered by snorts, whinnys, swishing tails and birdsong. I ponder if maybe there's a gap in the market for meditation on horseback. This is a trifecta of tree, sea and mountain change bliss, rolled into four days atop four sturdy legs.
Late that afternoon we retire to Mole Creek Hotel for a Tassie Tiger beer to recount the day's ride. (Well, mainly beer – I can't forgo the Squealing Pig New Zealand pinot.) We covered about 15 kilometres today. Not much by serious endurance standards, but a toast‑worthy achievement for us.
Day three is a very different pace. Clingly collects us about 9am and we take a shuttle bus detour to taste honey, olive oil, chocolate, and way too much Ashgrove soft cheese. There are hidden-gem boutiques and arts and crafts stores we stop off at, along with the popular Christmas Hills Raspberry Farm Cafe. The cafe is packed, and one taste of its ripe raspberries dipped in dark chocolate explains why people come from far and wide.
By 2pm, Jeremy has trucked in the horses and is waiting with them saddled as we pull into the entrance of Narawntapu National Park, which borders 16 kilometres of wild, deserted beach. It's Tasmania's smallest national park – and the only one where horses are granted access to the trails and beach. That puts a spring in everyone's step. After feasting on Clingly's salad sandwiches and her aunt's signature homemade cherry slice (like we really needed more food), we canter the horses down wallaby trails towards the beach, the wind in our hair, a light mist providing the perfect atmospheric prop.
On the beach, it's open slather. Ford cuts loose on his horse and those of us who fancy a "just floor it" dash follow suit, while Clingly leads the trotting-only group.
Exploring mountain trails
But it's the final ride home on our last day that proves the scene of my undoing. To be fair, I had it coming as far as Coltie was concerned. Each day, we're equipped with saddlebags for personal effects and water. On day four, we ride the network of mountain trails that snake around Gem Farm, dropping in on the more interesting neighbours – including Hugh and Mary McLachlan's jewellery studio and their stunning sculpture park – before taking lunch at the 41° South Tasmania salmon farm.
Run by the mad but delightful German-born Ziggy Pyka, 41° does a great sideline in ginseng – as in ginseng honey, tea, spice mix, salad dressing, cooking oil, nougat, chocolate, soap ... you name it, he's infused it.
"Ginseng keeps you young," Pyka bellows. "Eat that and you'll live forever."
He's a dab salesman and I depart laden with goodies. Three wines down over lunch – Pyka's riesling is lethally good – I decide Coltie won't notice if I stuff his saddlebags with my impulse buys: two bottles of wine, numerous ginseng products and smoked salmon rillettes packed in ice. (I would have bought one of Pyka's wife's hand-knitted, fish‑shaped beanies as well, but decide "next time" due to its bulk.)
Coltie eyes my loot and emits a "You've got to be kidding" snort. That I'm tipsy is the last straw. And that's when he launches his own little horse protest as I attempt to climb aboard. Well, that's life in the horse lane.
By my third attempt I'm on, and at least I've provided ample afternoon entertainment for the onlooking bystanders.
All is forgiven on the homeward-bound canter. We thump along the magical bushland trails to the beat of bare hooves on damp earth (wine bottles and all). Unsaddling Coltie for the last time, I fight a lump in my throat. I guess when it comes to horses, I'm always going to be 12.
Long days in the saddle are over. The daily desk-jockey routine looms. Not only has it been a great ride, the four-day Tassie Tiger Trail was an unexpected treasure hunt to boot. I check in for my flight home juggling numerous new pantry items. Luckily, Launceston Airport has seen it all before and ensures both my food hamper and I make it back to Sydney. That cutie Coltie is just lucky I couldn't stuff him in my backpack too.
The writer travelled as a guest of Globetrotting and Virgin Australia.
Take me there
- Riding tour Globetrotting's four-day Tassie Tiger Trail from $3100. For more, see globetrotting.com.au or phone +61 43 885 1981.
- Deloraine Situated 50 kilometres west of Launceston, tiny Deloraine (population 2745) dates back to the 1830s. For accommodation, don't go past the heritage-listed Bonney's Inn.
- Fly there Launceston Airport has just undergone a $6 million beautification process, including installing local produce pop up stores at the airport. Virgin Australia flies to Launceston three times a day from Melbourne (from $99 one way) and daily from Sydney (from $119 one way). Business Class is available, featuring comfy leather seats and a menu by Luke Mangan.
