California Riding Magazine • September, 2008

Western Side Story
Check Alaska off my list of places to visit.

by Gayle Carline

I didn’t start riding horses until I was 45, so I still like to go on trail rides when I am on vacation. There’s something peaceful about cruising through a new countryside on the back of a horse.

So far, I have only ridden on Pebble Beach, as well as my yearly trip to the Sierras north of Truckee. Each ride has its charms, from the briskness of the ocean breezes through the cypress trees of Carmel to the earthy warmth of the path through the pine trees of Las Plumas National Forest. I love the scenery, and find the differences in the stables, the horses and the people to be fascinating.

Recently, my family and I went on a cruise to Alaska. Among our many excursions, I signed us up to go on a horseback ride, of course. The ride was very different, and the people very colorful, which made for an interesting afternoon.

Our trip started on the bus that would take us to the horses. The last two people were 10 minutes late, and I was a little surprised when I saw them. It was an older man with a woman who might have been my age and was definitely in a wheelchair.

"She’s in a wheelchair,” my husband whispered. “How’s she going to ride?”

We watched her stand, with the help of a cane and maneuver, holding onto her partner, into the van. Apparently, she had undergone knee replacement surgery, but assured the tour guide that she was a good rider and would be able to ride.

The van took us to a clearing in the middle of a deeply wooded area, where saddled horses stood quietly, their back feet cocked in relaxation. I see mostly Quarter Horse crosses in Pebble Beach and Gold Lake, but at this stable, several Belgians waited for riders.
Luckily, I did not have to straddle one of these equine SUVs for an hour and a half. My horse was a black paint, Spike, who looked like he had a little Mustang in his background. Slender and low to the ground, he took a few moments to figure me out. Once he knew I could steer him where I wanted, and that I didn’t take “no” for an answer, we got along fine.

Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down

I have a special fondness for these trail horses. They have had riders of all abilities, including those who can barely stay in the saddle. And yet, they have to walk slowly, ignoring the legs gripping their sides and hands pulling the reins, or the bodies leaning askew.

Like the lady with the fake knee, who was “a very good rider.”
Everyone held their breath as a team of three or four people hoisted her into the saddle. I was so focused on watching, I almost didn’t hear the wrangler call my name. I mounted Spike and steered him to the rest of the riders. We were the end of the line, so I got to watch the woman with the fake knee for the entire trip.

Most of the time, I wanted to walk behind her with a net. She leaned right, then bobbled left, then careened back to the right. She was a Weeble. I had to love that horse she was on, and wondered how he could endure the gyroscope on his back.

The view on the ride was very different than I expected, and very beautiful. Until I went to Alaska, I had no idea that the coastal area of the state is actually a rainforest. Our path in Skagway wound through majestic evergreens, their branches leaning out like green fingers. The floor of the forest was overwhelmed with ferns, which surprised me in this colder climate.

After about 45 minutes, the trees parted to reveal an enormous field of tall grasses and wild irises. I can’t even describe the brilliance of the royal purple flowers popping against the pale green of the grass. A stream rolled through the middle of this wonderland, shallow and rippling across smooth stones.

We steered our horses over to the stream and let them drink—a first for me on any ride. After their drink, we rode into the field and stopped so our horses could eat. This was another first. On other trail rides, we’ve been told to keep our mounts from munching.

Of course, getting the horses to leave the salad bowl was a little difficult. Spike had to be convinced, with a couple of firm thumps from my legs, that there would be hay at the barn.

After a full 90 minutes, we returned to the stable and said good-bye to our horses. We also got to watch the wrangler pit crew help the woman with the fake knee get off her horse. It was both fascinating and frightening.

So I got to check another piece of the country off my list of places to see on horseback. And another interesting story to remember.