For a little twist, I thought I’d change the subject matter of my column. I recently returned from the adventure of a lifetime. It started out as a little trip that my mom wanted to take to celebrate her clean bill of health from breast cancer last year, and it ended up being an experience that left me with a newfound look at myself, my training and what our horses are capable of physically. The adventure led us to Jarbidge, located in Northern Nevada. As any resident of Jarbidge will say, “If you find Jarbidge your lost!”

The Jarbidge Wilderness is 113, 1767 acres of high mountains and deep glaciated canyons located in northeastern Elko County. It has eight peaks over 10,000 feet, some of which drop to canyons 4,000 feet below. These mountains form a single crest and maintain elevations between 9,800 and 11,000 feet for about seven miles. Eight peaks exceed the 10,000 foot mark.
It was the first designated wilderness area in Nevada. The name Jarbidge translates from the Shoeshone to mean "monster that lurks in the canyon" or "weird beastly creature." According to legend, the Shosone braves chased this creature into a cave in the present Jarbidge Canyon and blocked it inside with rocks and boulders. After making the drive this speculation is clearly evident due to near castle like formations the entire 14 miles in to Jarbidge.

Hidden from any major highway, the Jarbidge Mountain crest appears as a miniature Alp to those who drive the back roads to the wilderness. The drive itself to Jarbidge was an adventure, signage is minimal and at one fork in the road one must look up to see a hand painted signed on a rock in order to not lose one’s way.
Our guide Lowell Prunty has been guiding out of this area for a lifetime, he and his family established themselves as a 100 years going strong in the territory and his family still maintain a status quo as horse breeders and ranchers as the Dimond A Ranch. The horses are desert bred, save a few Lowell finds on his own, and every fall when the work is done Lowell’s herd has their shoes pulled and is turned loose for winter forage on the desert. This in part attributes to the sure footedness and sound minded quality that every single horse on his string has. All shoeing is done by our guide himself, and feed is both packed in and foraged for daily.

When I first entered the base camp, amidst all the trees were horses tied with saddles on except for the three myself and mom and her friend would be riding as we had brought our own gear. Admittedly I judged; however I judged based on what I had previously known as truth regarding horses that I had familiarity with. These lean, strong and unusually muscled horses resembled nothing of what I had any previous experience with, neither the look nor feel of the horses was what I was used to and I generally pride myself on the ability to read horses by intuition and feelings.

I was introduced to AJ, a prime of his life Morgan gelding, who resembled an older style Morgan, from a time when Morgan’s looked like mini-warmbloods with large feet, and legs, and a plainer less typey head. AJ regarded me with an uninterested sniff, wrinkled his nose and went back to sleep doing his best to ignore me. I fussed with saddle fitting, rearranged my breast collar, and did my best grooming with only one brush. I even went so far as to attempt to hand pick my mounts mane. I finally resorted to sharing half a granola bar with my new partner in order to gain some common ground, and admittedly if you know me and my methods, I’m a teensy bit ashamed of admitting that I shared a granola bar however I was not about to ask our guide if I could start ground working his horse nor did I have access to a round pen! So food bribe it was!

As I walked around the horses and attempted to assess them the best my knowledge knew how I noticed all of them had big solid feet and legs, a trait that in the world of show horses you seldom see, the horses at the end of the season were lean and strong looking, not a ounce of flab to be found. They all stood solidly and calmly as the other members of our trip of the lesser horse inclined got used to their new mounts with varying degrees of comfort. Our group included 10 people and 15 horses, 5 horses alone to pack in gear and food. Each pack horse happily munched away while loaded with gear and with each strap secured I was certain the horse looked a little bit more contented! The oldest of the string looked as if he could high step after being fully loaded when only a moment ago looked as though he could fall asleep.

Once we mounted up I realized after the first descent of 1,000 feet of rocks, and sage that my little brown horse knew what he was doing and I surrendered what I thought I knew as a trainer and horse handler to my little horse and laid the reins down. I had to follow my own advice in a new way, surrendering what I thought I knew to faith in the horse. In the first two hours of the ride we dropped down to a valley and I had already encountered territory I wasn’t sure I’d like to hike in let alone ride a horse down, never was there a stumble a balk or a even so much as a ear pinned or tail swish from a single horse. Every horse fell into line and knew exactly what their job was and happily engaged in it.

The herd dynamics was a delight for me; at night every horse is hobbled and turned loose to graze. Hobbles? Yes hobbles… I admit I’m fluffy in this territory; I’d never hobbled a horse but quickly learned when I leant a hand to Lowell. Not only do the horses not mind the hobbles they actually ran in them! I had visions of my own two horses back home falling down flat on their well groomed faces with a set of hobbles or worse throwing an equine tantrum! The horses all shared dinner on what I affectionately referred to as the “chow line” and after ran in a herd up a hill to better grazing to return in the morning. Laying in my tent snug in my sleeping bag at night I could hear the herd calling back and forth to each other and the occasional stray who wandered to water in the moonlight and for some reason rather than worry it made the night more peaceful.

The trek that I value the most was on our third day to Emerald Lake, which is about 7 hours of saddle time to roughly 11,000 feet. Higher altitude considered we left 85 degrees, and at 10,300 feet we encountered hail and wind at just above freezing. The Prunty band of horses led us up a steep, slippery and rocky trail and never faltered even with the hail and sleet. Sadly we turned around at about 10,300 feet, and held up in a cabin built in the early 1900’s until the hail let up enough for us to brave our way down the trail. When everyone was dried, warmed and accounted for I couldn’t believe we were actually going to ride down what we rode up after so much rain and hail, yet again not a horse stumbled and there was no rushing, or pushing save for a few frisky crow hops out of my trusty steed AJ, however crow hop and all he never skipped a beat, or misplaced a foot.

Every day of adventure seemed a bit more exciting, a true horseperson can not help themselves with the prospect of the days only task to saddle up and ride new trails. Eventually though some bribes of scratches and a few granola bars AJ eventually even acted excited when I appeared in the morning to saddle up. All of the things I’m hired to work with horses for seemed to come very natural to a horse than really to my knowledge hadn’t had formal training, at least in a classical sense. The horses were polite, affectionate, patient and proud. All the things we want from our mounts. By the last day AJ was side passing smoothly, could do some flying changes and even could be led by his tail.

If you long for adventure, you will find it. I always knew I would find mine on the back of a horse, yet who knew it would be on the back of a little brown surefooted horse in a mountain range far from my home. Once again horses prove that there is more to meet the eye, I can honestly say a little piece of my heart as a trainer stayed with the Prunty Jarbidge Outfitter horses, especially AJ. But each horse touched me as if they were my own, it gives me great peace that each of these horses are free to live a life of work that they value and find important, and that they are able to live in somewhat of a natural environment where herd dynamics are a daily function. Coming from Alaska where pasture is so limited and most horses live in heated barns, and wear blankets in the winter, it was not only a learning experience for me but shed some light on the work ethic of a horse that truly loves what it does and finds its work important. I admit while part of my heart stays in the mountains with the horses, I was grateful to return to my own horses of which I’ve lovingly dubbed Creampuff Ponies. No I’m not ready to start hobbling my beloved retired jumper, nor do I plan on teaching Pao to pack anytime soon, however I do have a new found respect and admiration for horses and their capacity for work ethic.

Thank you Lowell and your family for being such fantastic guides and for trusting us to ride into your wilderness with limited supervision. Until next time Ride Arete wherever the trail may lead and may adventure find you.