It's first thing in the morning at Wolgan Valley Resort and Spa, and the air is crisp with the coming autumn.
Our tour guide leads us into the arena to meet our transport for the day. We're taking a trail ride through some of Wolgan Valley resort's 1600 hectares of conservation areas.
My horses' name is Marshmallow - because he's such a softie. I'm quite relieved. The other guests have hopped on board Bandit and Wrangler. I'm told that Bandit loves to have a swim in the river and will lie down - sometimes taking the rider with him. Bandit needs a strong hand.
Marshmallow is a gelding. He loves to follow - particularly when a lady horse is in the lead. He's the perfect beginner's horse.
Our trail ride begins by crossing Carne creek, tracking alongside towering sandstone escarpments where once railway workers hauled shale over the Great Dividing Range. The old railway tunnels are now filled with glow worms.
Kangaroos sprawl in the dappled light spread by eucalyptus trees. A colony of bellbirds whistle their greeting as we trot past their wetland. The bellbirds, our guide tells us, are a recent arrival - refugees from drought-stricken lands. The birds have come in search of water. They haven't left.
The horse in front comes to a halt. Alongside our trail a wombat snuffles in the grass hoping to scrounge up some breakfast. There are dozens if not hundreds of wombats on the property at Wolgan Valley.
Winding through gullies and over plains you would be forgiven for thinking you had left civilisation. The only noise is the clicking of the horses hoofs and the rustle of startled wallaroos.
After an hour and a half we return to the resort, legs stiff and sore from the ride. Bandit's rider is sorer than most, his legs buckled from holding on tight. Marshmallow was indeed softer than the rest.
