Ride on the Wild Side

At the next river another canoe was waiting and a fresh set of horses on the other side. The horses could probably have waded over but to allow as many people as possible to benefit from this tourism initiative, more steeds were used. Apart from an over abundance of ticks, a bit of mange and some sores, the horses were generally in good condition. They walked fast and were more than happy to pick up pace for a beach gallop. The NGO assisting in this project is planning to facilitate a training course for the horse owners to improve care of common diseases with medicines provided by a donor.

Fresh Do-Nuts

I was constantly amazed how everything was so well organised. We arrived after about 5 hours of riding, at a campsite and there to welcome and feed us were ladies from a local village. There were more in our party than originally planned but another new dome tent was found and erected and in it went a thick mattress and fresh bedding. The smell of fresh donuts drew us to the trestle table where they were being deep-fried and sugared as we watched.

Posessed by Ancestors

Rarely on a trip to any other country do you get the opportunity to really connect with local people, but this trip provided that. After a simple supper cooked by the local ladies we were invited to the hut of the traditional healer, where the youngsters were practising their dance techniques and the healer became possessed by her ancestors. For a mixture of well-travelled Europeans, it still came as quite a shock as we stared in awe as her body shook, her eyes wavered out of focus and strange noises came from her.
Dancing continued and I even tried to copy the complex steps and follow the rhythm, which proved impossible but very funny. Being at the whim of long-dead ancestors can be quite exhausting, and the healer collapsed behind beaded curtains bringing the evening to an end. We stumbled down the uneven grassy hill in the kind of darkness you only ever find in a very remote place with just a sliver of moon to assist us.

Return Culture Shock

Another couple of days of riding, weaving inland through rolling hills and cantering along the hard sand wetted by the surf brought us back to the start point. After being deposited on the other side of the river again we carried our saddlebags back to the Wild Coast Casino, where our vehicles were parked. After just 4 days in the wilds, the culture shock of walking through the jangling, flashing, neon-lit corridors of this resort was almost too much. We looked like dirty cowboys who had stumbled into the wrong movie and felt completely out of place.