Every day brings Walter Berger to a new place, a new challenge, and a story waiting to be told. Star News journalist Afraa Kori explores the world of the Gembrook-based equestrian, photographer, and adventurer whose journeys span the globe.
“One day it’s trail riding at Tonimbuk Farm, the next you own a horse whose shoes cost more than your own. Photography was always lurking in the background.”
That’s Walter reflecting on a life that seems to have been swallowed whole by horses and shaped forever by the click of a camera shutter.
Trail rides became ownership, curiosity became obsession, and the outdoors became both classroom and sanctuary.
Photography followed naturally, a way to capture the raw honesty of the natural world, far from screens and schedules.
“Been at both long enough that saddle soap smells like home, and the shutter click feels as familiar as a hoofbeat,” he said.
When he first started, Walter thought riding was about control.
“Turns out it’s about surrender, to the horse, to the moment, to the fact you’re not nearly as graceful as you imagined,” he said.
“A Vulcan Mind Meld would help, but mostly it’s trial, error, and bruised egos.”
He discovered photography is similar: “you can’t bully a moment into being”.
“You just catch it before it bolts, and hope the picture tells the story. It’s the little details in a scene that makes it what it is, which I try to catch.”
Over the years, Walter has competed in many dressage, showjumping, and horse trials.
But it’s not the scores he remembers, it’s the moments: like a horse defying physics mid-jump or finishing a round covered in more mud than the course itself.
“Those are the ones that stick, disasters that turn into stories worth retelling,” Walter said.
“Winning’s fine, but sometimes just being there is better, even if your trusty steed doesn’t share the vision. Griffin (his horse) eventually convinced me he was a dressage specialist. I could only argue with gravity for so long.”
The hardest challenge is balancing riding and photography.
Horses don’t care about deadlines, and cameras don’t pause for mucking out. Walter’s solution?
“I treat both as non-negotiable: mornings in the saddle, afternoons behind the lens or computer when not chasing weeds, evenings,” he said.
Despite the chaos, discipline and clear goals make it work.
When you look at Walter’s photography, his love of animals and nature is evident.
Animals don’t fake it—horses, dogs, birds—they are honest and instinctive, and that authenticity draws him in.
“Horses taught me to look for the small truths: the flick of an ear, the twitch of a muscle, the quiet moments that say more than any trophy shot.
“Nature doesn’t need filters; it just needs someone stubborn enough to wait for the right light.”
Walter recalls once waiting 20 years for the light outside his front door to be just right and for his skills to be up to the task.
“In both riding and photography, the ability to act instantly and instinctively is a bonus.”
Walter’s love for horses and photography extends into the wider world. At Carinya Park, he combines equestrian life with conservation, sharing forests, paddocks, and wildlife with local enthusiasts.
Through PhotoSouth, he shares his photography and storytelling with a broader audience, whether capturing a Victorian paddock or the back alleys of Tokyo.
On 15 November, his dedication was formally recognised at the Horse Riding Clubs Association of Victoria (HRCAV) Awards. Walter and Griffin took home a 100 Point Award and a Top Ten Dressage sash.
“It takes a village and last night, the village showed up,” he said at the time.
“Behind every shiny ribbon is an army of clubs, volunteers, and the HRCAV crew who keep the circus running.”
In photography, his work has earned a Silver Medal for his Eza Fox quarrel shot and a third-place award for his Japan photobook from the Australian Photographic Society.
Recognition for moments that make viewers stop scrolling reminds him why he keeps the camera ready.
Horses have humbled Walter. “They don’t care about your ego, and they’ll remind you of that in an instant.
“Sometimes that ends with a hospital visit, where surgeons discover horse people are a different breed,” he said.
Photography is equally brutal: miss the shot and the moment’s gone forever.
The challenge is accepting imperfection, learning that failures fertilize whatever comes next.
“Overcoming them? You do, until the next failure slaps you in the face,” Walter said.
“You just keep showing up, hay on your clothes and camera in hand. A fed horse and a full battery, what more could you want out of life?”
Walter’s ambitions remain steady: keep riding as long as Griffin agrees, perhaps progress further in dressage, and continue capturing stories through photography.
He dreams of building a portfolio that could become a gallery show, proving that pixels alone will never match the power of a real print on a wall.
For Walter, the journey is far from over. It’s paved with hoofprints, camera straps, laughter, mud, and the occasional hair-raising lesson but it’s a road he wouldn’t trade for anything.
