Where the Horses
Run Free
The small Indonesian island of Sumba feels like a place suspended between sea and myth. Horses run freely along its shores, untamed and unpolished, as if time never quite reached them. Here, riding on the beach and in the sea allows you to instinctively let go of yourself and become one with nature and even a little nostalgic.
(Freedom) I stood silently next to Bindi, who looked at me with her liquid, chocolate-brown eyes. “Let her smell you,” Carol Sharpe, founder and original Horse Whisperer of Indonesia’s iconic eco-luxe resort NIHI Sumba, told me. “She’s tall!” I remarked, wondering why I wasn’t matched with one of the shorter horses closer to my stature. I had heard about the stocky Sandalwood ponies native to Sumba Island and seen images of them thundering across Nihiwatu Beach. This 2.5 km long stretch of pristine, palm-swathed white sand and rolling Indian Ocean surf is situated on the island’s southwestern coast. A mere hour’s flight east of Bali, Sumba felt far removed from the much-visited gateway to the Lesser Sunda Archipelago.
A few years had passed since my last horseback ride, and I was feeling slightly anxious about the prospect of going bareback. “Yeah, she’s about 15 hands,” said Sharpe, referring to Bindi’s height. Horses are measured in hands, the average width of a human palm, from the ground up to the highest point on the withers, the ridge between the animal’s shoulder blades. Hailing from Queensland, Australia, Sharpe grew up around horses. She has called Indonesia home since “accidentally” taking on the role of setting up NIHI’s riding stables at the oceanfront all-villa resort in 2013, when her husband served as project manager for its redevelopment.
“We started with two Sumba (more commonly known as Sandalwood) ponies, and I think we’re up to 35 horses on the property now,” she said. “We’ve tried to keep it mainly to Sumba horses. The Sumba pony, or horse, is quite small, but I discovered they had crossbreeds on the island because racing is quite popular among the locals. In recent years, it has become quite competitive.”
Australian thoroughbreds were brought to the island to breed with the sure-footed domestic ponies, named after the locally logged sandalwood they once carried. “The crossbreeds are taller and built for speed, but not necessarily carrying heavy weight. The Sumba pony is a little bit hardier because they originated from the Mongolian pony and, later, the Arab pony,” Sharpe said. “The two ponies mingled and created a sturdy, feisty, and very pretty pony.”
Time to ride
One morning, I woke up at 6 am to witness the sunrise from the balcony of my villa. Coral pink clouds wafted above as cerulean-hued waves breathed in and out across the powdery sand, while apricot-breasted sunbirds flitted among the trees, serenading me with their tinkling warble.
From here I made my way down to the beach, excited to finally witness the sight of NIHI Sumba’s famed herd of semi-wild horses. And, suddenly, they appeared, like a distant mirage unfolding before my eyes. A clap and a call from one of their handlers, and they were off. Flicking their manes, they cantered and then galloped across the sand, between the crashing surf and the thick tropical foliage, toward me. I was mesmerized.
“My soul felt more alive and freer than it had in a long time.”
They slowed down and gathered together on the shoreline, the Sandalwood horses recognizable not only by their stature but also by their cheeky demeanor. I approached Bindi, a liver chestnut, a shade of reddish dark brown, and gently stroked her cheek with the back of my hand. I spoke to her in a low, gentle tone, so she could get to know my voice. That touch brought back fond memories of learning to ride as a youngster with German–Australian family friends at a riding center outside Melbourne. As a child, I devoured books on horses, learning their colors and markings. I knew my Palomino from my Bay horse.
But, as the years passed, I left riding behind and focused on my studies and, later, my profession. Still, my love for horses never waned. Bindi waited patiently as I smoothly mounted her. Sitting on nothing more than a bareback pad, I took hold of the reins. “Center yourself. Sit for a while. Let her get used to you,” Sharpe said.
NIHI Sumba’s equine experience program was built around natural horsemanship—putting the horses’ well-being first and allowing guests to experience horses as sentient partners, not just something to ride, she explained.
Equine equilibrium
Bindi’s sweet nature softened my stiff posture, allowing me to relax and roll my hips to the rhythm of her gait. She made me forget how high up off the ground I was, sans stirrups to keep me from sliding off. I also had to take care not to press her sides with my calves, which a horse usually reads as a cue to quicken their pace. I wasn’t confident about cantering saddleless along the beach and smirked inwardly as I remembered how fearless I approached riding as a child. Even when a horse occasionally bolted, that is, took off without warning, usually in the direction of the stables, which it associates with food, I held on and somehow managed to regain control.
After a stroll along the beach on a lead rope, Bindi’s guide Freddy quietly walked her into the ocean—the moment I had been longing for. Two of my great, lifelong passions—equines and the sea—merged on an island wrapped in a rare mysticism far removed from my everyday reality. As I looked out at the horizon, I felt all of the pent-up pressures plaguing my day-to-day dissolve into the sea. Far from the noise, distractions, and demands of the city, I felt reconnected with the mind-clearing wonder and wildness of nature. My soul felt more alive and freer than it had in a long time.
I marveled at this magnificent, proud being that gifted me this experience and the trust she placed in me. Back on shore, as our ride came to an end, I leaned down, resting my head and heart on Bindi’s neck and wrapped my arms around her in gratitude. Beyond their role as prized dowry and social status symbols, Sumba’s equines and their human companions share a relationship deeply rooted in spirituality. “The Sumbanese believe their soul is connected to the horse and that it carries them into the afterlife,” Sharpe explained.
That evening, a troop of boys from neighboring villages arrived at Nihiwatu with their ponies. Wearing traditional dress, including a colored headscarf, the youngsters lined up, eyeing one another, ready to race. Again, there wasn’t a saddle in sight. I felt a little envious of their relationship with their trusty steeds and the horsemanship skills they had cultivated from a tender age.
“The Sumbanese believe their soul is connected to the horse and that it carries them into the afterlife.”
A bloodthirsty tradition
The young riders were there to demonstrate a mini version of the Pasola, an annual festival and horse race known for its bloodthirstiness. Carrying slim banana tree branches, the competitors shot across the beach, sending sand flying and all four hooves airborne. As they passed through a leaf-festooned passage, they speared a bouquet of banana tree branches planted in the sand.
Tradition dictates that Pasola competitors carry bamboo spears to pierce the flesh of human or horse, to allow blood to seep into the earth. This sacred ritual, customarily held in February and March, is believed to bode well for the annual harvest. It was considered an honor to die during the Pasola. These days, Sumbanese youth continue the racing but show little interest in suffering so much as a scratch, let alone sacrificing themselves for tradition.
As the sun set, silhouetting the boys and their steeds, cementing an unbreakable bond, an eight-year-old competitor burst across the finish line. Recognizing the orange scarf he waved triumphantly in the air, I realized he was the one I had picked to win—the smallest yet boldest of them all, like the ponies themselves.
When it came time to leave, I cradled my parting gift of a thumb-sized, hand-carved white limestone horse head in my palm. A reminder to nurture my own wild self, no matter where I find myself in the world.
