Fiona Wallis
Chris Westlake
everyone before they formed the hollow square then marched in half-sections to the stadium, chanting the Rider’ s Anthem.
The whole routine seemed too quick, the Mexican Wave swam through the audience, the countdown began and Steve Jefferys and Ammo led the charge into the Stadium. The noise of the crowd lifted the specially designed ground-covering as the waves of horses worked to maintain straight lines, form sections, circles, then break into the pinwheel. The horses listened and stood quietly as the National Anthem was sung, then the charge for home began. The cheers echoed as tears were wiped away, the audience declaring it spectacular, the riders bubbling that it was a buzz, a big buzz. The spirit of it all was celebrated at the Castle Hill Tavern with the help of a few other spirits and ales and to the entertainment of the local city folk.
Sadly, back at the camp, the dreaded lurgy ran rampant through the riders and they dropped like flies. Nurse Connie gave strict instructions that there should be no kissing, spitting or sharing of drink bottles as it was a very nasty virus. The visiting doctor consoled and treated 45 or so patients and Roy, the vet, wandered around to make sure that horses were healthy even if their riders weren’ t.
The second dress rehearsal came and went, prompting Don Eyb to remind the riders not to sit on their oilskin coat-tails and glow in the glory just yet; the big night was still to come. More friends and family were impressed by the ceremony and were convinced that the horses stole the show. A rest day was warmly welcomed with the sick tucked away in bed and the not-yetsick heading off to inspect the Mounted Police Barracks.
The morning of the big day dawned, water flowed in the washbay and the hum of clippers resounded through the showgrounds. In the carpark, the Livestock Transport trucks lined up and the seasoned travellers plodded on for a final trip through Checkpoint Charlie and to P4 carpark. Clancy packed lunches for all and at P4, volunteers offered water and soft drinks. The now relaxed riders polished boots and saddles and milled about under brollies or slept off the effects of Panadeine or Codral Flu tablets. At 5pm there was movement at the parking station as the word was passed around, by Jodie, that the Opening Ceremony was soon to get underway.
Once again radios were issued, Olympic rings were pinned onto Drizabones and the green and gold saddlecloths were laid on the horses backs. The hollow square looked good as cameras flashed in all directions and Stu fired the atmosphere with a haunting rendition of the Rider’ s Anthem. Helicopters hovered overhead as white flags with blue Olympic rings were handed to each rider and the procession moved towards the Ring Road that led to the Stadium. Well-wishers cheered along the way and other performers waved good luck. The countdown began, the‘ Lone Horseman’( alias Steve Jefferys) galloped into the arena, reared, cracked his whip and disappeared. The 120 riders followed on his fetlocks and wowed the world. The riders were more critical of their performance than the spectators who saw the formation of galloping stock horses storm to the edge of the arena and salute the crowd with a frisbee-spin of hats. The stirring rendition of the National
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