By PETRA KELLER | Moonshine Ink
As a little girl growing up riding horses in the German countryside, I never dreamed I would one day ride my horse hundreds of miles across the American West. This sounds like the opening to a Louis L’Amour novel set in the 1800s, but it’s not. It’s actually my 21st century story.
Growing up in Bremen, Germany, we had several horses at a nearby stable. This is where I learned to ride and where my love affair with horses and everything Western began. I was enamoured by everything to do with horses — from the quiet moments in the stall when my horse’s breath would warm my hands to the sound of the starting bell for the jumping competition. There is an expression in German, “Das Glueck der Erde, liegt auf dem Ruecken der Pferde,” which means “The happiness on earth lies on the back of a horse.” My favorite childhood memories all revolve around horses — racing bareback on the dikes, lying in a grass meadow with my horse grazing next to me, and cantering across freshly plowed fields.
As a teen, my family moved from Germany to Miami, but I never forgot my love of horses and the dream of riding again. I later relocated to Washoe Valley near Carson City, a landscape complete with wild horses roaming the hills — true horse country. It was there that I learned about the Pony Express 150th Anniversary Re-Ride in 2010.
Short and Sweet
From April 1860 to October 1861, the Pony Express delivered mail from St. Joseph, Mo. across the Great Plains, over the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, to Sacramento, Calif., a journey exceeding 1,966 miles. Although the Pony Express operated for just 19 short months, the treacherous gallop through the western territories captured the imaginations of generations and won a permanent place in the history of the American West. It was such a heroic and dangerous job that Help Wanted posters read, “Wanted: Young, skinny, wiry fellows not over 18. Must be expert riders, willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred.” In 1860 there were around 157 Pony Express stations spaced out 10 miles apart, which was roughly the distance a horse could travel at a gallop before tiring.
As with the original Pony Express, the re-ride is a 24-hour, non-stop event. Every rider must complete a leg of the route — which vary from 1 to 20 miles, and average 5 miles long — while carrying mail in a special leather saddlebag called a mochila (Spanish for pouch or backpack) that the rider sits on. The one difference between today’s ride and the original is that today’s riders often ride a single leg of the trail, and not all portions are run at full speed due to concerns about the health and safety of both rider and horse. But back in the day, a single rider would go for several legs of the trail (about 100 miles), exchanging his spent horse for a fresh ride at the same checkpoints we used a century and a half later. It was a grueling adventure.
Riding the Pony Express Trail
I’ve ridden the trail each year since 2010 with the Nevada chapter of the National Pony Express Association. Seeing the community support and the excitement on the faces of kids and some adults as I ride by wearing my uniform — red shirt and brown vest — while straddling the mochila saddlebag filled with letters is a thrill each and every time, and is one of the main reasons I continue to do the ride.
As I’ve become more involved with the re-ride organization, I’ve taken on additional legs of the trail within the Nevada “territory.” This has given me an opportunity to see more of the trail and experience both the thrill of riding through a populated area like Carson City, and the solitude of riding through the trails in the Sierra where the Pony Express Trail crosses the Tahoe Rim Trail. I have ridden from the 14-acre Fuji Park near Carson City, travelling along busy Hwy 395 while 18-wheeler semi-trucks roar by, and I’ve ridden near Cold Springs, Nev., where the terrain of vast, open spaces is full of jackrabbits and grazing antelope deer — scenes similar to what the original riders may have encountered. At the end of each leg, riders are greeted with calls of, “Pony rider coming in.” The rider then dismounts and the mochila is swiftly moved to the next horse, and off they go to the next exchange. It’s finally time for the arriving rider and horse to catch their breath.
A Horse with Heart
Last year, I learned how much heart my thoroughbred Red has. We had ridden from Fredericksburg, Calif. to Genoa, Nev. The next morning we headed out to Cold Springs on Hwy 50 for our second leg. At around 4:30 a.m., Red was startled by something on his picket line (the rope that is used to tie a horse up.) After saddling up, his first few steps were gimpy. We got the mail and I mounted up and continued on, but as we walked down the trail Red got worse and worse. I dismounted and started leading him while his breathing got heavier. We walked on a bit more and then Red just stopped, wobbling on his four legs. I took the mochila and the saddle off. When the trailer finally pulled up, I don’t think Red had ever been so happy to see four wheels. He limped into the trailer. Once we were home, the vet determined that his swollen leg had been caused by a venomous bite. Thankfully, Red made a full recovery.
Each year the re-ride makes me appreciate what the original Pony Express riders and mounts experienced in 1860. They had no rigs to get to places, no GPS to find the route, no cell phones to call for help. I am not sure that Red would have made a full recovery had he been one of the original Pony Express horses.
