The Man From Snowy River … through my daughter’s eyes

Yesterday we spent another five hours in the car. I feel as though I know the road to Mansfield like the back of my hand. Yet it’s amazing the things you can miss along the way. Like these very cute bales of hay in a roadside  paddock.


When we picked up Tash she was exhausted from the physical work of the weekend. She was also battling a cold, however she was in very high spirits. Perhaps because she’d spent the last twenty four hours doing the things she loves most in the world: looking after horses, camping, horse riding and living and breathing the mountain air in the high country with like-minded people.

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The sky looks clear here but the previous night a storm lashed through Melbourne. Strong wind, thunder, lightning and heavy rain pelted much of Victoria. This photo she took below shows ominous storm clouds gathering over the ranges. We were concerned for her and the group but fortunately their camp was in a protected valley and they had the added bonus of a hut.

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The following morning dawned clear and the group was able to ride to the spot where The Man from Snowy River made his famous descent.

There was movement at the station for the word had got around that the colt from old Regret had got away. It was worth a thousand pounds …”

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And so Banjo Patterson’s legendary poem goes on …

“When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

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He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent…”


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There’s little doubt the ride down the mountain for the trail riding group was far less dangerous and adrenalin charged than the ride by The Man from Snowy River. But I’ve also no doubt the group wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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After all, they had far more time to enjoy all the spectacular mountain views.

13 thoughts on “The Man From Snowy River … through my daughter’s eyes

  1. I couldn’t remember the reason the man had made his descent. I should have known the scene would be famous in the country that had birthed the story; but still, to see the images and to know others still ride that route and dream of what it might be like to brave such a steep slope on horseback — and image the bond that would have to exist between rider and horse, too! — really brings the fiilm to new ad more vivid life for me.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A wonderful account of your daughters adventure, and loved the excitement of the poem as you could see almost see the ‘flint-stones’ flying under horses hooves.. ❤
    Thank you for the link that took me back here to read Miriam..
    Much love and enjoy the rest of March.. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

        1. Hope that wild weather settles down for you Sue. Here it’s an unseasonably warm start to Autumn (and I’ve caught my first cold!) xx


  3. Hi Miriam, I am glad you linked back to the original post. You are so good with your segues. You have a double segue in the mother post to. A master of segues. I was reflecting on the poem wondering if I had ever read it in it’s entirety which is a bit embarrassing. It is a great poem.

    Your daughter is lucky to have such a great passion for horses and having sustained it, managing to make it her work also. As parents you have both enabled that to happen too, so well done.

    Now back to the starting point/ post… Louise

    Liked by 1 person

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