Free Time

Every afternoon we either have a culture emersion activity or we are given the afternoon free to adventure around Robertson or go on various tours. During this time we have been able to go to the various local shops such as the pick n’ pay (similar to a dollar store), the local pharmacy Clicks, or the supermarket. After the riverboat tour we were told that the same winery gave horseback rides for very cheap, and they would even arrange for our transportation. Since the other volunteers had not had the opportunity to go horseback riding in South Africa, we decided this would be a great afternoon activity.

Our ride showed up at promptly 2:30 in a truck to pick us up. All seven of us were a little nervous about the drive, but we climbed into the bed of the truck for the short ride through town. We had been told that many people in SA are bad drivers, but this is an understatement for this woman. She did not slow down with us in the truck bed and did not stop at the stop signs. Assuming this would be the worst of the adventure we arrived at the winery to find the horses already tacked up in McClelland saddles. The horses were just roaming around the field while one was rolling in their saddle (strike 1). We then proceed to talk to the guide while she scratches one of the horse’s bottoms, sign of worms … we are told that the horses are allowed to rub on you because it is there way of showing affection WRONG! (Strike 2).

Once we all get on the horses, Lilly, a fellow volunteer, and her horse almost walk into a cave/ barn (Strike 3). We then get going on the trail ride and are thinking how bad can this be…. Well the horses don’t steer or stop. They only respond to whistle commands and stop by running into the horse in fronts bum. On our way to the watering hole three of the horses decided to take a detour through the woods which causes Rachel to lose her camera and scrape up her hands on the thorns(strike 5). By the time we get to the watering hole the horses are allowed to drink. Mine decides that going for a swim would be a better option. We go walking in the water, and I am told that there is no way he will roll in the water! It was abundantly clear to Martha and I that the horse was going to roll as he was pawing the water. He did, in fact, proceed to lay down in the water until I begin to kick the poo out of him to get up. (strike 6) Then Megan’s horse starts to roll with her on him as well. This all occurs while the tour lady is just standing there watching. (strike 7)

Now crazy lady tells us that we can all walk down the sand bank and then canter back to the watering hole. We leisurely walk down, and then she counts to three, and then my horse whips around and begins to fly back toward the watering hole with the rest of the group following behind. Granted, Martha and I are the only ones who have ever ridden before… (strike 8). Then she decides that we should try it again, and this time, everyone should canter. Good idea… NOT! Martha and I are trying to tell everyone else that we don’t want to do it again, but apparently crazy lady decides that we are and drags the horses to the other end of the sand bank. This time when we all take off Rachel’s horse bucks her off, and everyone besides Martha and I end up in the woods (strike 9). Then Olivia’s horse decided to roll with her on the horse’s back and all of us are just trying to stay alive until we get back to the beginning.

We then proceed to walk back in the river in the to the beginning of the trail. By this time my feet and legs were going numb from the ice cold water and all of us were trying to figure out what in the world was going on. The crazy lady did not even think that anything was wrong with this trail ride. We then were taken back to our house and not asked for a method of payment. We are thinking well gosh since it was so bad we did not have to pay. Apparently we spoke too soon because the crazy lady showed up 45 minutes later and walked in to our house and ask for the money. By this point we were all so mad that we could not help but to laugh.

So now we’re are up to like 13 strikes or something. Moral of the story: if you are picked up in the bed of a pickup, don’t get in; you only have two strikes left!

Love,

Mary Emily and Martha