We woke up early today and caught the sunrise over the water. The Wild Coast is home to thousands of dolphins, and we enjoyed plenty of them playing in the surf as the sun jumped out of the Indian Ocean.
After a quick breakfast, Emma, Jamie, Terri, and I hiked up to whale point to catch the views. Moving along the rocky beach and ultimately up a 500 foot hill, we had a great perch to watch the dolphins play. They actually would sit out in the swells like surfers, waiting for a big wave to come in. When it did, we could easily spot upwards of 10 dolphins weaving in and out of the waves. Right before they'd curl and crash, the dophins would jot to the back and do a perfect leap out of the wave. Incredible. I'd say there were upwards of 50-75 in the pod we were watching this morning. It's still too early for the whales, as they come in the "winter," around June or July.
The latter events of this day were perhaps ones Terri will enjoy telling for years to come. To start, Terri, myself, and Liz Taylor (not joking) from TX booked a horse-riding tour through a small game reserve and onto the beach. To be specific, we were picked up by Ninky Noo himself, owner of the ranch and game reserve. This crazy old S. African looked like he was straight out of a movie. He told us his philosphies of life, beer-drinking stories, and rules of the ranch. All intermingled amongst each other. Most importantly, Ninky Noo warned us of the Ninky Moo. This rule requires anyone who falls off a horse to start in the bar, run across the pasture naked to the cow watering hole, moo like a cow, and stay there until the bar patrons moo back at you.
I must foremention that on ANY horse-riding tour, anywhere in the world, it is mandatory that I get the hugest, ugliest, foaming-at-the-mouth horse within a 50 mile radius. Like all past rides, today held true. I was mounted on top of Jack, the horse that ejected Jutta from Austria yesterday. Lovely. I'm not sure yet if she moo'd or not. I'm thinking not, as she hurt her wrist. Immediately after getting into the saddle, Jack apparently found it useful to slam my right leg repeatedly into the fence to which he was tied. I enjoyed this thoroughly.
As this was just partially a game viewing ride, our final destination was the beach where we were to run the horses. I will readily admit I knew this going in... Now I have run horses, although this was in Montana many years ago on very well trained horses. Right off the bat, Jack and I clearly didn't have the best communication with the reigns. If you want my opinion, the stupid horse didn't want to listen to any direction I pulled. It was only when we were going downhill that Jack decided to run in circles on the hill at full speed, tossing me around his back within inches of certain Ninky Moos... To say the least, this was startling. But still, with Mike's (guide and son of Ninky Noo) help, Jack was settled down and ready to ride. Onward to the beach we went.
Although Mike may have mentioned this before we started, I started to understand the full meaning of this statemtnt: "Now when we get to the beach, these horses are gonna RUN!" The closer we got, the more these horses wanted to take off. This very much included the stupid 2000 pound beast beneath me, Jack. Since Jack was uncooperative a majority of the ride, it was genuine concern from everyone as to whether we should turn around and go back, or just commence with blastoff. If you know me well, unsurmountable challenges can easily be met with a balance of stubborness and uncalculated risk-taking. Many times this works out for the best. Today at the Ninky Noo Ranch, it was realized in perhaps the most grandest of all backfires. It was absolute terror.
When I made my final decision ("let's do it"), it was a matter of seconds before Jack took off in thoroughbread fashion. It was like the opening moments of the Kentucky Derby. This animal took off from Zero to (had to be) 50 mph in about 3 seconds. Believe it or not, I was actually OK for about 50 yards of this, speeding across the beach at breakneck speed. Then Jack decided (unilateraly) that it would be fun to run full-speed into the ocean. So (despite my pulling left) we veered right, and then ran parallel to the beach in about 6 inches of water, splashing and now moving with no control at all. I'm not sure if the splashing of water was before or after I started screaming like a schoolgirl at the top of my lungs. I'm thinking it was after, and also around the point where I realized Ninky Noo's ranch had indeed not invested in helmets for it's distinguished guests. At this point both of my feet had exited their reserved stirrups, and I was basically holding on for dear life with my legs. Pulling back on the reigns with everything I had I screamed "STOOOOOOOOOOP!" as loud as I ever have said anything in my 34 years. By the grace of God, I hope to see my 35th. After maybe 300 yards of travel, the horse miraculously ended the ride, standing "hoof-deep" in water. Long story short, that was the end of the running, and after a short beach WALK, we headed back.
You can ask Terri what she saw, but she reports being drop-jawed while running her much-smaller horse with complete control and grace.
And no, I did not have to do the Ninky Moo. And no, I will never run a horse again. Ever.
We ended our horse experience at Ninky Noo's Pub. This was adjacent to his pasture golf course that had wild turkeys an sheep on the 9th green. A much needed beer was enjoyed as Ninky Noo himself slowly poured a shot of whiskey on Liz's blistered finger. Well known for expletives, Liz delivered in full as Dr. Ninky worked his voodoo magic. He also told us the story of cutting off his son Mike's (our guide) finger with a kitchen knife after he was bit by a puff adder snake. Yes, we are in Africa. Time for bed.
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