Vanessa and Khan take a break on the High Banks Trail at Otter Creek Horse Camp on the Independence River Forest Preserve in Lewis County, New York. A positive attitude will enhance your trail-riding adventures.

This year, the allure of traveling cross country with BeBop and Khan diminished with increased family responsibilities and the rise in fuel prices. Not permitting reality to ruin our ride season, Vanessa and I shifted gears and decided to fit in several weekend trips, instead.

We frequently found ourselves about three hours from our home in Otter Creek Horse Camp, a quiet, state-managed campground located on the Independence River Forest Preserve in Lewis County, New York. The area is dedicated to horse camping and offers access to miles of great trails.

This camp isn’t highly regulated. There’s a sign-in book and a few directional signs. Rules are posted on trees. Common courtesies and horse sense substitute for the rule of law. However, land managers do strictly prohibit all-terrain vehicles.

On a typical Friday afternoon, rigs of all sizes and conditions begin to arrive. The tie-stalls start to fill, and the buzz of activity escalates. Camp setup, horse maintenance, and visiting with fellow trail riders occupy time until dinner. As dark descends, campfires glow, and horses settle in for the night.

Sometimes, we arrive on a Thursday so we can sit under our awning, sip a beverage, and watch the ritual of Friday arrival and setup. We chat with neighbors and share our love for horses. We hear many compliments on The Trail Rider. Riders stop by and share their great horse stories.

Campsite Neighbors
This year, we met a variety of families with youngsters. I mistook one clan camping across from us as a group of children from the city getting a rural experience. They were diverse in ethnicity and age. They’d been camping there for the week, and, from the equipment we saw, they were taking full advantage of the opportunity to fish, kayak, bike, and trail ride.

But, things weren’t as they appeared. The matriarch, the grandmother, seemed a bit frazzled. I chatted briefly with her as she cleaned the stalls of her two horses. She told me that they were all related, then grumbled about the lack of help from the children. I could only sympathize. You’d think that the kids would pitch in, even wait on Grandma, especially as she owned the horses they rode.

On the other end of the spectrum, we met a father-and-son team from Ontario. They parked their bright-red rig next to ours; each brought a bay Quarter Horse gelding. The two were up early each morning and prepared breakfast on the campfire. Dad saddled up while the boy watched. They rode out and returned for lunch. If the afternoon didn’t get too hot, they headed out on the trail again until dinner. The two Canadian horsemen were a happy team.  

Curious, I walked over and offered them the wood left at our campsite. The father told me that he was on an unexpected, 30-day holiday, so he decided to spend the time with his 10-year-old son and their horses. His wife, who also worked, was at home with an older brother. After a few days in Otter Creek, they planned to head back north and camp at a reserve in Ontario. 

I was envious. Being one of seven children, I would’ve enjoyed an exclusive horse-camping adventure with my father. Rest his soul.

Occasionally, we see people from our neighborhood back home. One weekend, we ran into our friend Kim. She was on a multigenerational woman’s weekend. With her was Casey Jordaan, a 15-year-old young lady. Casey grew up on a horse farm in South Africa and loves being with horses. Her family immigrated to the United States in 2000 to flee their country’s violence and now reside in suburban North Carolina.

Through a series of odd circumstances, Casey and Kim met. This summer, Casey traveled from her Carolina home to the Finger Lakes to spend an entire month working with Kim at her farm. Casey told me that Kim’s stallion, Ali

Shagu, was the first horse she’d ridden in a long time. Happily, she told me about a bay mare, Rena, whom she was riding now. She called the mare “fast.”

Kim’s family decided to take Casey along on the trip to Otter Creek for a peaceful week of riding. From the sparkle in her eyes, I could tell the young horseman was in heaven. She obviously appreciated the beauty and solitude. Kim’s family was happy to have Casey along to help out and enjoy the diverse trail riding the area offered. The whole situation made me smile.

A Long Night
Once, we didn’t arrive until Saturday afternoon. Space was short, but we were able to find a corner campsite with a fire pit and tie-stalls for BeBop and Khan. Ironically, I felt that Lady Luck was on our side.

Across from us was a bivouac. If we’d looked closer, we would’ve seen the telltale warning signs: several tents, a drop-in camper, and three pick-ups — two with ATVs in the bed. From their trucks, we could see they were contractors from a nearby town. There was a high ratio of beer coolers to people and a low ratio of horses to campers. It was little wonder the campsite we found across from them was unoccupied.

Just after dinner, the campfire across the way flared as several logs were piled on. As dusk approached, the conversation and music became louder. Obnoxious, unending laughter added to the racket. We sat in our trailer, door closed, waiting for 10 p.m., the camp’s designated quiet hour.

But at the designated hour, the music, laughter, and merriment across the way didn’t stop. In fact, it got even louder. When the music changed from latest country hits to Credence Clearwater Revival, everyone in the campground knew we were in for a long night.

At 11 p.m., Vanessa and I crawled into bed to try to sleep. At about midnight, there was an altercation between the partyers and a woman two campsites down who wanted to sleep. It sounded ugly. I put my pillow over my head and tried to ignore it. Around 2 a.m., the party broke up, and the music stopped. Quiet finally gripped the night.

In all the trips we took to Otter Creek, riders had always respected the quiet hour. From my way of thinking, the late-night revelers used horses as an excuse to set up a two-day party. This was wrong. It affected all of us who fueled up at $3 per gallon to ride the trails and enjoy a quiet weekend with our horses. We were all pleased to see the hooligans pack up and leave Sunday afternoon.

On the Bright Side
Although we didn’t travel to the Southwest as we wanted to this year, we made the best of our situation, and had a great time camping and trail riding in New York. We learned more about our rookie geldings, and shared horse stories and rode with fellow horsemen from all over the United States and Canada. This is what our sport is all about.

When you head off on a getaway weekend, focus on the positive; ignore the negative. Don’t let the shenanigans of a few renegade campers ruin your experience. A weekend of trail riding is a great way to meet people and learn more about your horse. Use the time to refresh your mind and improve your horsemanship. You’ll return home wanting to go back again.

Ben Theyre welcomes your e-mails and answers each one personally. You may contact him at bentheyre@juno.com. Feel free to visit his website, www.bentheyre.com