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South African riding safari

Author: Harry Meade

Event rider Harry Meade gives an account of his adrenaline-pumping riding safari South Africa Horse Back Safaris.

When you step out of your car, leave behind your phone and laptop, climb onto a horse and ride into the timeless plains and hills of Songimvelo game reserve, it becomes apparent that we humans are not an invincible breed living in our man-made environment, but are just another species of animal that fit into the surroundings. Once stripped bare of our inept Western conditioning, without the protection that our conventional lifestyles afford us, you will be thankful for the freedom, and enthralled by your vulnerability in the surrounding wilderness. It is the bare essence of life.

Expect to be revitalised by the vast country and the unending space of this far-flung corner of our planet. Revel in the freedom of a place unknown to stress. Enjoy the warmth, the dust, the lush green mountains, and above all the speed.

Gallop flat out on the plains among the wildebeest and zebra, the springbok and the kudu. Trust the horses, they have survived the rocky terrain, the sink holes; they have swum the rapids, scrambled up the mountains, picked their own way down a pathless slope. They have seven legs, they are untouchable, unflappable, invincible. At a gallop they take boulders, fallen tree trunks and hidden ditches in their stride.

In charge is Steven Rufus, a clear thinking, hard headed, no frills, white African. He is a man of the earth, a man who understands the bush. He’s had a life with horses: as a farrier and a dentist, a breaker and a backer, an event-riding carriage-driving university-lecturing enthusiast.

Behind every successful man there is… someone who works very hard and claims little credit. In the case of Steve it is Lucy, an English girl, a high powered city banker who recently left her suits and papers for a life of chaps, denim and khaki; blood, sweat and horses. She is the ideal hostess and the organiser.

The wheel certainly wasn’t invented in Songimvelo. The terrain is impassable by vehicle, the rangers travel on foot. Horses are the ideal transport and the land you cross is far from a well trodden path.

The benefit of horses is not just as a mode of transport, but they enable you to ride alongside the game. Standing less than ten meters from rhino you can hear the wind in their nostrils, see the details on their rough skin, and smell the unique tang of the huge beasts. You are no longer a human being, but a strangely humped camel-like antelope. A journey of giraffe, with their inquisitive eyes, actually approaches riders to identify their peculiar visitors. On horseback you do not just take in the scenery, you are part of it. It is the difference between looking at fish in aquarium and swimming with them.

The horses are a complete picture of health. As a full time event rider used to riding seven or eight horses a day I’ve been fortunate enough to compete some good ones. Expecting to be unimpressed by the little horses in the bush, I couldn’t have been more wrong! Steve knows exactly how he wants the horses schooled. They are all trained to a remarkably high level: they never jog or pull, they are not sharp or lazy. They can be ridden on a loose rein with total control, have a fantastic turn of pace and can be pulled upon a sixpence. As a type they are like polo ponies; they are tough, fast and as nimble as mountain goats. They are martyrs to their job; they will clamber, steel on rock, up steep inclines of bare jagged points. I can genuinely say I couldn’t have asked for a better ally for the week.

The horses have to work hard: they spend long days crossing arduous terrain, sometimes carrying heavy loads, and are treated with a tough but fair discipline. But what horse at the top of its particular field has it easy? Steve’s horses are well fed and in excellent condition, and the simple answer is that no horse will excel at its job unless it enjoys it.

Steve is a genuine enthusiast. Despite a lifetime there he is still gripped by the African bug and this is infectious to all those around him. Every bird or animal, flower or plant carries a story, a biology lesson and an ancient bush myth. You will hear stories of riches being made or men being hijacked as you descend deep into mines, once lucrative springs of bullion and destinations of pioneers crossing the world to seek their fortunes in the gold rush.

You will experience a feast with a group of ancient African dancers. The power in the dances reflect the passion in their meanings: I was amused to hear that they were about war and hunting, subjects that have evoked similar passions in our country.

The camp is rustic but comfortable and refreshing. Tents are scattered around the edge of a clearing, in the middle of which an acacia tree shades the main mess tent and camp fire. The beds are comfortable. And then there’s the bush shower, the wonderful bush shower! Water heated on a fire pours from a suspended sack under the stars in the warm evening light.

The guests join together, diverse groups mix, real lives are forgotten, brought together through moments of laughter or excitement or fear. Nothing bonds individuals like a moment of crises: squared up to by a rhino, it snorts, tail curls and spins to charge. Every man for himself, shouts are called, horses scatter, hair on the back of necks stand to attention as blood pumps trough every heart: human, equine and rhinoceros. A crack of a bull whip and the beast is stunned. Steve’s horse stands its ground as the rhino turns.

Evenings are flitted away over stories of adventures and struggles: who crossed the river? How deep was it? Only the horses’ heads were above the rapids and grappling currents? I’ll do it next time, tomorrow I’ll have a go. But the parties don’t last for long, the hard days take their toll and the beds are calling.

It is humbling to think that our lifespan is a mere blink in the history of that vast country. We are like ants on the earth’s surface, but this reminder of our diminutive existence in this giant world alleviates all worries. It is a reminder that life goes on, that despite our problems the sun will continue to shine, the rains will come and go and the leopard will still hunt the antelope. Don’t get disillusioned by the rat race of modern life: this is what life is really about, and this is why people like Lucy change their spots.

Steve’s safaris possess the same qualities as the man behind them: they are truly authentic. The riding is the real deal, the country tough and the rewards endless. The camp is not lavish luxury, it is practical and comfortable. The cuisine is not award winning, but hearty food fit for the mounted explorers. He has learnt that there is no need to guild the African lily.


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