The Balloon Debacle. (P.2)

Mt Bulla is one of Victoria's most well known ski resorts. As I drove into the resort parking lot that Friday evening, peering upward toward the mountain slopes, it appeared odd without snow, but not surprising considering we were moving into summer. Giving my name to the young resort receptionist, she checked her computer, and handed me a pass key to room 306. Entering my room, I was greeted by one of the graphics staff, Anthony, who I'd met before on the main floor of the office. Just in the last week, we had a great discussion about an American author and his latest novel. He waited for me to change, before we went down for the company dinner.

The restaurant had rearranged the tables creating a single one stretching, length-wise, several metres. We sat dawn to realise half the staff were half wasted, speaking and laughing loudly, until the managing director arrived, which magically civilised their behaviour. The dinner turned out to be fair, roast chicken, and rather than go to the bar with the boys, decided to hit the bed early, and prepare the next day's itinerary. As it turned out, this was a wise decision, because the next day was strenuous not only physically, but intellectually as well.

After breakfast the next day, the Director gave a speech about the publishing company and his goals for the newspaper. Looking around, I observed several advertising staff, all men, bleary-eyed and pale, in a word, hung over from the previous evenings activities. This did not go unnoticed by the the ranking members of the company. After speeches from the heads of each department head, it was time for lunch, and an afternoon of horseback riding.

Luckily, while growing up, my father would take my sister and I horseback riding every second weekend. During this time, I learned to make friend's with the horse and successfully ride both saddled and bare back. When I arrived at the resort's stables, the woman in-charge, dressed in jeans and a black cowboy hat, approached me and asked if I had ever rode before. I told her my experience, where she replied, “I'll put you on Jezebel. She likes to run, and needs a strong rider to keep her in line.” For an instant I wondered if I over-stated my skill as a rider. But once meeting the young horse, her beautiful hide of a deep tan, I whispered in her ear, You're a lovely horse Jezebel. My name's Craig, and I think we're going to have a great day. She snorted loudly and bounced her head up and down, as if acknowledging my words.

The riding trail winded up the mountain ending on a level plateau. This well-trodden path only allowed a single file line. It opened up into an acre field, where the trail down the mountain began. For Jezebel this was familiar territory, and I knew she knew, we were half way home. We were told to dismount our horses, tie them up to a branch or tree, and take five minutes. I tied Jezebel to a tree branch, feeling she was getting anxious to get back to the stables. I told her not to runaway, and stay put. As I was saying this, one of the real-estate rep's horses got free, and ran across the field, disappearing on the downward trail. She ended-up having to ride on the back of the stable-girls horse for the rest of the journey. We mounted up and I bent down and whispered in Jezebel's ear, Let's see what you can do.

In a sudden spurt of literally, unbridled power, we were in a full gallop across the field. Once we hit the downward trail, she wouldn't let up, negotiating every hair-pin turn. It was all I could do to remain on the saddle, and putting my head down decided then and there, to hold on and simply enjoy the ride home.

We galloped into the stables, and of course, we were the first to arrive. I dismounted and brushed my hand against Jezebel's sweaty neck, thinking it is against the rules in riding stables across the planet, to bring a sweaty horse home. Rein in hand, I led her to the fence by the water trough, where she only lapped a few swallows of water.

The rest of the horse team arrived soon later, and all retired to their rooms for a rest before drinks the next hour.

I finished my beer, and wandered out to the stables. Interestingly, the stable girl was brushing down Jezebel. She turned around to me smiling, and said, “The girl gave you quite a ride, eh?'

I laughed, “Yes, she is a wonderful horse, I just let her do all the hard work.”

Right then, no lie, Jezebel turned her head around, and looked at me.

“I think she likes you.” she said.

I walked up to her and began rubbing her magnificent head, as she turned her nose rubbing it across my face.

“Yes, I'm sure of it. She likes you heaps.” she said with a broad grin.

At dinner, the Director announced that he thought it wouldn't be a good idea to party at the bar, because we were to meet in the hotel foyer at 4:30 am.

“We will be Ballooning at dawn.”

Intuitively, in the pit of my gut, I felt a certain dread.