Lunch With The Wild Horses

A few of the wild horses are visible in the background.

It was day two of our pack trip, and Ivana, our amazing guide, was taking us up into the pinyon forests in hopes of spotting the more elusive wild horses of the Inyo National Forest. We were promised a wonderfully long day as we made our climb up into these beautiful lands. There are not any roads or walking paths or hiking trails. Instead we followed the trails made by the wild horses themselves. Sometimes these trails were obvious. Other times Ivana led us through the sage brush on horse trails I could not see.

We rode in silence. An intent to peacefully be with the land. A choice to quietly snake through the desert disrupting as little as possible. It was relaxing. I imagine that our string of horses probably enjoyed it more, too, than the chatty rides they often work.  A walking meditation on horseback. Ivana would point at things and we would sometimes break silence only to share information about things we encountered. She showed us different animal tracks, the remains of a foal that had been eaten by a lion, old horse bones, the tracks of a young lion following a raccoon, and signs of the wild horses that had come through. We could see the wild horse hoof tracks and where they had rolled or laid down. She said we could know how long ago the tracks were placed there if we pay attention to and track the winds.

Ivana took us to one place that she knows the wild horses frequent, but they were not there. We knew it was likely that we would not see any wild horses at all today, but we were still guaranteed beautiful views of the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains. We continued our gradual climb. It was much cooler than yesterday, and I wore my warm alpaca sweater. I live in the Rockies, and it was my first time seeing the Sierras. I loved the contrast of the mountains and the dry desert. I was taking in the scenery and feeling the footfall of my mount, occasionally giving my horse a reassuring gentle little rub near his withers, when suddenly Ivana spotted the wild horses with her binoculars. We decided to change course and see how close we could get to this wild herd! Ivana led us awhile on a new route until we found a place where we were up a little above the herd and at a distance the wild herd was comfortable with. We stopped there for lunch. We tied our horses to the pinyon trees, got our lunches and drinks we had packed that morning, and found a spot to sit and watch the horses.

We were probably there at our lunch spot for more than an hour. I ate lunch more leisurely than I do at home. Time slowed, and my body’s cadence quieted and joined that of the horses. We could see the distinct and numerous family bands of a stallion, his mare, and their foal. We observed how healthy and well fed this herd of horses is. Plenty of grasses, no fence line, and they are, for at least the time being, safe here from the two-legged. They are truly free, and they are the lucky ones. It is rare for wild horses now.

As we were leaving our lunch spot with the wild herd, we walked fairly close to one lone black stallion standing on a little hill. He had been observing the wild herd from a distance, and now he was watching us. I remembered what Ivana had said about some stallions of the wild that deliberately choose to live alone. She had laughed and said the lone stallion doesn’t want the drama. I laughed, too, but I could relate. As I rode by this majestic horse, it was like the classic photo of the single black stallion. The image captured me, and I didn’t want to leave. What is it like to be him? No lion will touch him, said Ivana. A stallion is way too powerful. He’ll live his chosen life of solitude in an abundant land that feeds him, nourishes him, takes care of him, and dances with him. He’ll live into his thirties, and then simply die of old age. Maybe I am projecting, but if there are not any horrific round ups by humans for these horses, he will live a life free of worries. Just him and the land. At one with the land and truly free. 

When I return to Colorado, I go to the grocery and purchase some items I don’t normally buy. I go home and make myself a sandwich with the

se goods; just like the one I ate when I was with the wild horses. I sit at my kitchen table and take a bite. I close my eyes and chew slowly. I picture the horses in my mind, and I transport myself back to the Inyo National Forest. I feel a deep truth, and I am peaceful, serene, and content. I am having lunch with the wild horses.

From the wild,

Asha