The end, actually.

"When I'm 45, I'd like to be in a position financially where I can make a decision to move on and go into the next stage of my career if I want to," Bowman, 37, says.

"If I don't want to ride when I'm 45, I want to be able to walk away if that's what I want to do."

Look beyond the stirring wins on Winx including a third Cox Plate, the Japan Cup victory on Cheval Grand that secured the Longines World's Best Jockey crown, even his ride on favourite Jonker in the $2 million Magic Millions Classic on Saturday, and what you find is sport's toughest of professions.

Early starts. The politics. Intense scrutiny. Making weight ???

"The mornings get monotonous," he says. "The politics? When you're in a good position like I'm in now, it's easier to manage; you're managing offers instead of sourcing good rides. That's developed over the last five or six years. But for me it's the weight. I'm big. Every jockey has a responsibility managing their weight. There's a select few who don't, but I work really hard because I am just big.

"No matter how much you try to explain it to people, even those closest to you, they don't understand what it's like to go without a drink when you are thirsty. To not eat when you are hungry.

"You have to train your body to run on very limited fuel and energy, and you're expected to perform at a premium. You're expected to perform at a premium every day you go to the races. The punters don't give a shit if I'm focused or managing my year properly because their dollar is worth the same to them in the middle of winter, backing me at Goulburn or Wyong, as it is if I'm riding the fourth favourite in the Golden Slipper with six group one rides on the day. That's when it's unforgiving."

Bowman has been at the bottom and worked his way up the ladder. Getting the ride on Jonker shows just how brutal the sport can be.

The colt has won two starts for two wins. Newcastle jockey Aaron Bullock, 27, was in the saddle on both occasions. Just before the New Year, trainer David Atkins and the owners bumped him off and went for the world's best hoop.

If Jonker wins, that's a $60,000 payday Bullock doesn't get.

"I do feel for Aaron but the same thing happened to me," Bowman says. "Just like Aaron, I was disappointed. He's disappointed. It's only natural. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be doing as well as he's doing. I've noticed since the decision was made to replace him that he's shut his mouth and got on with business. His time will come, as mine did."

The 'world's best jockey' tag doesn't sit entirely well with Bowman - "It's getting a little monotonous, but I can't be critical of it" ??? but he understands its promotional value. Indeed, he's been front and centre of the Magic Millions madness on the Gold Coast all week.

Unsurprisingly, his jockey room colleagues have been jabbing away here and there. If he asks for something, they will often say, "Well, you are the world's best jockey!" He'd expect nothing less.

For his part, Bowman doesn't think he's the world's best jockey. He thinks Ryan Moore, the first choice rider of Aidan O'Brien's Ballydoyle operation in the UK, deserves the mantle.

"He's ridden all over the world, he's done it consistently for a long time," Bowman says. "That, for me, is the telling factor. Everyone can have a good season, but the fact he performs at the level he does and consistently for so long, that's why I think the way I think. So I take the title with a grain of salt. How do you really judge if one is better than another? There are so many variables in what we do."

Bowman claimed the award having won 10 of the world's top 100 group 1 races. Six of those victories were on Winx.

Yet the ride that stands out the most to the man himself was last year's Queensland Derby when he piloted Ciaron Maher's three-year-old Ruthven to victory. Bowman bravely snapped the horse wide and got to the lead with 600 metres left to play before demolishing the opposition.

"He is a difficult horse," Bowman says. "It was a race where I really did make decisions and they were the right ones. They were decisions where if they weren't right, it would look ugly. I'm not that type of rider."

That's Bowman's strength: his consistency in a sport booby-trapped with every stride taken. He won his fourth Sydney premiership last season,

He grew up idolising Darren Beadman instead of the likes of Jim Cassidy and Shane Dye, who were flamboyant risk-takers. In many ways, Bowman's riding style is an extension of the man he is: the unassuming, laconic kid from the bush. Death or glory is not his style.

"Jimmy over the years was famous for making some great decisions - and famous for making some dreadful ones," Bowman says.

"It didn't appeal to me going out and taking all the glory for a horse win. Those guys [Cassidy and Dye] were flamboyant. I've ridden against them all over he world and Jimmy is in the top five jockeys I've ever ridden against. He made things happen, but sometimes it was wrong. That never appealed to me. I'm very conservative. It's very rare that I would make a decision that's going to win or lose a race. That's why I idolised Darren: he never did anything special, but he got the job done."

That pursuit for consistency is what why he bristles whenever he cops criticism on social media for a losing ride. Or, worse still, when stewards tell him how a race should be run.

"There is no doubt that racing is a clean sport," he says, a claim that will no doubt bemuse those punters who see a rort in every losing bet.

"I don't know how often I get asked, 'Do things go on? Do you talk about races with other jockeys?' The bottom line is there's such a healthy revenue for participants, the idea of trying to make money from doing the wrong thing is just ridiculous. You're risking an enormous suspension. The repercussions aren't worth it. There are so many people watching anyway. When people [punters] get it wrong, they don't generally look at themselves and say, 'I got it wrong'. They say the jockey got caught three wide so it didn't win.

"Most decisions made by jockeys are a direct result of decisions by other jockeys. You've got all these people coming up with speed maps, and how races are going to be run and positioning. If you've got a field of 14 horses and a jockey in the middle of that group decides to be two lengths closer, the whole race changes. That's why people can't judge."

Saturday is all about the Magic Millions but it won't be long before his attention shifts to Winx, the Chris Waller-trained supermare who Bowman has ridden 20 times in her unbeaten run of 22.

When she won her third Cox Plate at Moonee Valley, Bowman returned to the winner's enclosure at the front of the main grandstand and could not believe the reaction.

Silence.

The Valley normally resembles a packed MCG after the Cox Plate. This time, the mob was awestruck.

"Nobody had moved," Bowman recalls. "Every single person in the grandstand was there, and they were looking at us. It was almost like a lonely place. Everyone was looking at her, and me, so I gave the old fist pump and then they started to cheer."

Since that afternoon, Bowman has shut Winx from his mind, preferring to concentrate on the other tasks at hand.

That's not easily done. When he rode in Japan and then Hong Kong, he was taken aback by how many jockeys wanted to talk to him about Winx.

"I don't reflect too much," he says, before adding with a grin: "There are times when I stick on YouTube and watch her last 20 starts. I wouldn't do it daily or weekly. I might do it once or twice between preparations. It's a significant journey we're all on. We're closer to the end than the start."

A bit like the man himself, who hails from good stock on the family farm at Dunedoo in the NSW Central West. Unlike many jockeys, he's got something to retire to when the time comes.

What about training horses? "The older I get the more I think about it," he says. "I must be losing my marbles."

But that's a long way off. So while he's up here on the summit, does the former Bathurst apprentice and son of a farmer from Dunedoo pause and take time to realise just how far he's come?

"I'm not saying that I ever expected to be where I am now," Bowman says. "But I never thought I wouldn't get here."