This is me on a horse. A rare event. I must admit I look most unconvinced by the entire episode.

It was taken last month up at the hill station of Matheran in Maharashtra. Matheran proper is banned to all vehicular traffic so the closest you can get is a car park a few kilometres from the top. From there, you either walk or take a horse… or get pushed up in a hand-pulled rickshaw, if that’s your thing.

The horse was called ‘Yes Boss’. The guy in charge of said animal was a bit of a joker, and decided to teach me a lesson for haggling over the price by encouraging my steed to gallop along at a fair old pace, whilst Mum, Dad and Jenny gently trotted along behind.

Last time I was in Matheran, Matt and I arrived fairly late after travelling from Mumbai via a couple of local trains and a share taxi. We finally rocked up around 10pm. “Any chance of a horse?” we asked the Ranger. “You must be joking,” he replied, or at least Marathi words to that effect. So we trudged up the hill, carrying our heavy bags, in near pitch darkness with only the light of my cellphone to help us on our way. And then, as is inevitably the way with these things, it began to rain: a morale-sapping heavy drizzle that got us soaked through by the time we reached the summit. Damn.

After a night in Matheran and a thoroughly satisfying five-hour walk around the hills, we made the return journey the next day on horseback. At this point I’d like to say that we were like two of the Magnificent Seven – James Coburn and Steve McQueen perhaps – as we confidently rode downhill. In reality of course, we were giggling like schoolgirls. Still, it was a lot less painful than riding a bloody camel.

Nevertheless, from arriving like thieves in the night, we left like conquering heroes. Kind of.

Photo from Lord’s Point, Matheran, August 2006. It’s the rainy season.

The same point in January 2007. Spot the difference.