The Romance and the Reality of the Long Trail

When someone suggested that a group of riders ride the length of the Sheltowee Trace during the summer of 2013, I was ON BOARD. The romance of the idea caught me, and I signed up without a thought.

Think of it! Riding on the trails that Daniel Boone and the native Americans travelled to cross  through Kentucky hundreds of years ago.  To be on Kentucky's only Long Trail, riding the ridges, peering into the deep valleys, watching the beauty of Kentucky's mountains change through the seasons.

But the reality was daunting.

I had a horse that hadn't trail ridden much.  Although he showed courage the few times we had taken him on the trail, he hadn't been out much and needed a lot of time to get a depth of experience.

So there was that challenge.  But I trusted him not to be too crazy, as he had seen most of the things in the forest at one time or another with minimal reaction.

The second challenge:  the horse - and I - were out of shape after a winter of relative inactivity.  But the assurance that we would just be walking, and that most of the horses on the ride would also be out of condition reduced my concern about that.  He (Stormy) was naturally athletic, so I felt he could keep up.

But once on the trail, again reality hit: Stormy, due to his lack of trail time, used an inordinate amount of energy just fussing and getting excited about the trip and traveling with unfamiliar horses in unfamiliar territory.  So what little energy he had was used up in nerves and unnecessary jigging both at the trailhead and on the trail as we started out.

Yet still I had confidence that he would be fine, albeit tired.  I even told him early on, "Hey, conserve your energy, it's going to be a long two days!"

Then on day two, reality really overtook the romance completely when Stormy just stopped.

What do you do when you are in the middle of the forest miles from a road, with a group of other riders, and your horse stops?

I know the answer to that now... you wait.  And you wait.  And he catches his breath, then moves on for a while until he stops again.  And you wait.

He was dehydrated, sweating in the unseasonably warm weather in a winter coat that hadn't shed yet.  I was worried about him.  I was sorry at that point that I let the romance carry me away, to the point that I might injure my horse.

I started dismounting at every hill we had to climb, to lighten his load.

My generous trail companions offered some of their own water which was poured into someone's upside-down hat, and he got a small drink.

And half a dozen hills later, we found a puddle in the trail.. filled with frog eggs and lots of mud, but water nevertheless.  Stormy drank deeply and I breathed a sigh of relief.  He perked up and was fine from that puddle-drink until the end of the trail. No more stops and ears once again pricked forward down the trail.

We both arrived home safe and sound, and by the next day Stormy was ready to go out and play with his pasture-mates.  Meanwhile I was still sore, but glad to be back home with my horse in one piece.

We will be going out again on the Sheltowee in a few weeks.  We are working on conditioning, I've ordered a collapsible water bucket, and will be carrying a small amount of water on the trail.

The romance of the end-to-end Trace ride is still alive, but now reality has been given its due and its respect.