What 20 years of backcountry horseback riding has taught me.

Looking out at the view, Sawtooth National Forest, Idaho.

This year I turned 30. Which means that I have now been riding the mountain trails of Idaho for 20 years; conveniently marked by my 10th birthday when we moved from a traditional boarding barn to an 800 acre wild-scape horse barn on the outskirts of the Boise foothills. Over 20 years I’ve ridden dozens of horses for thousands of trail miles. An accidental cache of experience earned by simply loving something long enough.

So, here is what 20 years of backcountry horseback riding has taught me:

You don't have to know everything to just try.

My mustang Winnie (left) and grade gelding Sunny (right) on a highline.

Despite being "in" the horse world my entire life, it wasn't until my mid twenties that I finally started to have the confidence to venture out on my own. I felt like even though I had sprinkles of experience being in the backcountry I wasn't ready to be alone or lead a group out. I just wanted someone else to call the shots, make the big decisions about location, equipment, routes and I could follow.

But what happens when you rely on others to make* these decisions is you also are relying on them to *be* there. Before I knew it, entire seasons where flying by with no adventure just waiting on someone else to be ready to go with me. I was missing the entire experience by being too afraid of making any.

When the offer comes, say yes.

Another trap of waiting: waiting for a specific person or group to be available means also missing the adventure.
When the opportunity strikes to go packing, generally try to say yes now. Even if it's not my "core group" or "ideal" location. The experience is still worth it.

Every ride doesn't have to be extreme.

Still go on those easy rides.
Still go on those short rides.
Still go on the trails you've already explored.

Moments in the saddle are precious and there's not enough time in the mountain season to wait. Your horse will still enjoy the moment, so can you!

Trust that other people will be okay.

Riding on a trail and suddenly crossing a mountain biker, UT Ver, runner, hiker, etc can be extremely nerve-wracking. People don't always know what to do around horses. There's not always enough room to share the trails. BUT if you communicate what you need as a rider and make some effort to share the space when you can, I've found people are excited more than anything else to see you and generally want to make the horses safe.

(Side note that I've also found bringing a trusty dog to go ahead of you actually helps SO much. People will see the dog first, slow down, expect someone else, vs just suddenly come across you and the horses)

Don’t skip the arena work.

If you ride on the trails or in the backcountry it becomes really tempting to never go back to the arena. To find arena work boring or unnecessary. For years I disregarded arena riding as the easy alternative to trails. But the honest truth is, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how to embrace arena work as foundation work. How targeted exercise equates to functional equine health. How balance and stability for the trail is built in the arena, not lost in it.

Time on the trail is important. But intentional and targeted time in the arena will make the trail safer, and your horse healthier.

It's really okay, just call yourself a cowgirl.

Horse camp, New Meadows, Idaho ~2004

My whole life I wanted to be a *cowgirl*. I rode horses. I worked on ranches. I grew up in Idaho. But i felt like an imposter not owning cows and doing rodeo...

But you know what I see when I look back on this little kid?
A dusty mountain cowgirl if i ever saw one.
A cowgirl is whatever and whoever she wants to be. So may as well enjoy the title.