Days 9-15, 205km OMEO

MR RICHARD AND I BOUGHT A PACKHORSE! Welcome to the #roadhorse team, little Mick-Mac 💙

Well, this week has been a pretty relaxing one for Mr Richard, who has done nothing but hang out in the Omeo caravan park, eating grass and gettin fat(ter). And to be honest, it's been pretty relaxjng for me too, but I feel like I've achieved a little bit more than my pony! Like, for example, buying a horse and a pack-saddle, which could probably only have been accomplished in a town like Omeo. And would have been impossible without the generosity of this small community. Deciding to get a packhorse was a decision that I'd almost made in the planning process, but I had (optimistically) hoped it wouldn't be necessary. After all, one horse alone is trouble enough without adding another, especially an unknown horse picked up on short notice. But the week before, coming up to Omeo from Orbost, every passing ute and horsefloat who paused to chat all said the same thing, eyebrows raised, "Only got one horse, eh?" And it's true: it's a big ask of one horse, even a trooper like Richard. So after walking most of the way here (OK OK I'm a push-over when it comes to it), I found I had come to a decision: Mr Richard needs a packhorse. And I had a name, mentioned by a few horsey people I had asked on the way here: "Track down Ron Connley," they said. "He's a horse-training legend and will sort you out."

In a town the size of Omeo, it doesn't take long to find someone, and the next day I found myself riding in Ron's beat up old ute, sitting next to the legend himself, a cattleman in his eighties who still broke horses, as we drove out the back of his property to catch the few beasties he was willing to sell. Little Mick-Mac was one of them. By the time we had them it was getting dark and so after hearing a bit of the horse's background, Ron drove me back with the invitation to come up and help the family muster some cattle over the next few days.... So Monday and Wednesday saw me and Micky out there chasing cows.... And by that I mean me and Mick-Mac mostly walking around and getting in the way and me forcing drench down cows' throats. And as Ron said as we rode along, me watching with a kind of envious awe the way he rode a completely feral mare with total ease, "There's nothing like chasing cows to get to know a horse. By the end of the day, you'll find yourself quite fond of him." So true. For a three-year old who has probably had not much more than two weeks total of work put into him, he is remarkably quiet and level-headed. A testimony to the Connleys' horse training prowess, but also I hope to Micky's chilled character!

Needless to say by Wednesday I was in love.

But what use is a horse without a saddle? And as I'm sure you all know, trying to get a good packsaddle in Australia is a challenge at the best of times. How was I possibly going to accomplish it in a tiny town without transportation? I shouldn't have doubted Ron Connley's magic. On Monday he gave me the contact of another local legend, Arlene, who had completed the Bicentennial National Trail, was from Canada originally, had two pack saddles and was willing to part with one. Nobody makes pack saddles as good as America. So Tuesday saw me up at Arlene's, learning how to rig a pack-saddle (double diamond hitch, looking at ya!), and Wednesday had me riding Mick-Mac down the second steepest hill I've ever ridden down as Ron showed me his "secret track" down from his place into town (somebody told me his brother had been the rider in Man from Snowy River, but I was too embarrassed to ask).

I felt like I was in some epic movie when I bid Ron farewell at the bottom and watched his stooped figure charge back up the hill on his wild black mare. Such a complete honour to have had the privilege to meet that legend.

So now I find myself possessed of a new horse and a new saddle, having spent the day watching Mr Richard and Mick-Mac falling in love and trying to convince Richard that the pack saddle won't kill him. Guess it's a good sign that you're more concerned about your seasoned 17yo roadhorse playing up than your new 3yo packhorse?

Tomorrow I head off down the highway with a totally green horse in tow. What could possibly go wrong?!