More horses; different state


Charters Towers. I could write my whole blog about it. How do I explain it? It’s a small town about an hour from Townsville. But it’s in the middle of nowhere. My dad’s friends own a property there with about a million acres.

We camp right by a billabong, near a small herd of horses. There’s one horse called ‘Scooby doo’ who, last year took some interest in uncle Allister’s camping box, then after punching a hole in it, lost interest.

It’s a good thing we camp near a billabong because it’s boiling hot. The second we get out of the water we want to get back in again. Last year we were mustering cattle and the horse I was riding wouldn’t trot! It was so embarrassing! I kept muttering ‘trot, trot, you’re making me look like an idiot.’




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