I have to thank the horse for one good thing. At an early age an untapped source of life's experiences was opened up to me through riding - a natural love of the Australian bush, famed throughout the world for its harshness and changeability. The appreciation of this heritage comes at various stages throughout an Australian's life - sometimes not at all. The loneliness of vast stretches of dry brown land dotted only with hardy gums and bushes affects the foreigner deeply and adversely, but the true Australian loves the utter wildness of the land as much as any Englishman loves the ardened green of his country.
Rising before dawn, saddling a horse- and riding away to the hills, the true beauty of a Australian sunrise is seen; the, nightmare black of the bill , the delicate pinks, blues and yellows of the early morning clouds and the miles of dead grass illuminated by the blood-red rising of the sun.
Contrasted with this beauty is the fury of the storm. There is something aweinspiring about Australia's electric storms. It is by receiving the full force of one of these storms, showing the country shuddering under. the attack of the elements, untamed and unfettered, that the realisation of thee enormous power of Nature and the insignificance of man is felt.
It is the emphasis on solitude - not the restful quiet of an English wood but the absolute desolation of being unable to see any sign of human habitation, that is so unique and fascinating about the Australian bush.
And for my first perception and experience of these things I have to thank the horse,