Emma Rode a Horse Across the USA

Emma Rode a Horse Across the USA

I knew her briefly for one evening, only two days from her destination. I will write about her in the past tense because I have not seen her since, although she sent me a thank-you letter with the picture shown at the side.. I think she is still alive, well and happy.

Her name was Emma, and she rode her horse, Misty, east to west from Brunswick, Georgia on the Atlantic Ocean, all the way to Imperial Beach on the Pacific Ocean. She stopped in Campo, California just before closing time

at the Gaskill Brothers Stone Store Museum, where I was the docent and general caretaker. She came into the museum tired and dusty in her Aussie hat and long coat, asking if I knew a place where she could camp for the night. I told her we had just what she needed, and took her back to a campsite with water and a picnic table that we keep for travelers. Campo is at the southern end of the Pacific Crest Trail that runs from Mexico to Canada, and infrequently hikers use our facilities for overnight stays. Emma’s ride across country started three months earlier on an east to west route.

Emma was an English girl from London, where she made her living as a stained glass artist. She had friends in Texas, and when she visited their ranch, the idea came to her to ride a horse across the United States. She went home and saved money for over two years. She sent away for an Aussie leather hat and coat from a catalog, and flew back to Texas. From her friends there she bought a rather small white mare named Misty that had been caught as a wild horse ten years earlier in Nebraska. By rights, she should also have bought a packhorse, but she didn’t feel capable of handling two animals all by herself. Except for the riding she did on her friend’s ranch, her experience with horses was limited to pony riding as a child, and riding rented horses from public stables.

She planned to travel light, but always she packed food for her horse. For herself, she planned to eat ready cooked food, and snacks such as jerky. Although she took along a pup tent, she didn’t carry a camp stove, pans, utensils, or any heavy food for herself. Even with these limited supplies, when she traveled west to where grass became scarce, and she began carrying hay for her horse, Misty had a heavy load. I think Emma walked most of the way, and I forget how many pairs of shoes she said she wore out. Misty had to be shod multiple times as well.

Emma’s friends hauled her, her horse and supplies to Brunswick Georgia, where her trip began. All went well across Georgia, but when she reached Alabama, she ran into some backwoods country louts who heckled her. She was right to put her horse into a run, because on the back roads her route took, she was bound to meet some lawless men who still made illicit whiskey in hidden glens, who would have been a danger to her.

The next night she camped way off the road in snake-infested woods. I doubt that she was aware of the danger from water moccasins and rattlers that could be there. She slept without incident only to find, when she awoke, that Misty had pulled loose, and was nowhere to be seen. As she trudged through the woods and fields, carrying Misty’s halter, she met some kind people who helped her find her horse and soon she was on her way again. She found most of the people she met along the way were very friendly, and they often invited her to stay overnight in their homes. She usually accepted their hospitality.

On most of her journey, Emma took back roads headed west, but there were places that she had to ride on the edges of Interstate 10, a multi-lane highway where pedestrians and horses are forbidden by law, except when there is no other option. When she reached the Mississippi, she had to stop and wait until a kind person with an empty horse trailer came along and gave her a lift. The only other place where she faced this problem was on the Colorado River, and that is a highlight of this story.

Beside her encounter with the country bumpkins in Alabama, the only other place where Emma was really afraid was on an Apache Indian Reservation. She arrived there at dusk and had no other likely option for a good place to camp. The Indians she met were not friendly, but after a period of pleading, they took her to a place littered with rubbish and broken glass, and told her she could camp there, but to be gone the next morning as soon as it was light.

Somewhere in western Arizona, someone told her about a shortcut, where she could save miles on her journey. Unfortunately, they didn’t know she didn’t carry much water because of the weight. She couldn't carry enough for Misty, so she didn't carry any for herself, either. The short cut was 40 miles long, and she and Misty went overnight without water. Along the way, they crossed paths with a very large rattlesnake that almost bit Misty. When Emma was feeling quite desperate, they came upon a campground owned by a church group that was designed to give adventures to children. They took her in and tended to her needs.

The next big obstacle was the Colorado River at Yuma, Arizona, formerly called “The Yuma Crossing”. It used to be a much bigger obstacle before the building of the dams along the length of the river. It was wide, swift, and dangerous, but it was the best place for the pioneers to cross. Now, it is a small river that doesn’t even reach its outlet into the Sea of Cortez, because the Mexican farmers use all of what is left of the water after so much is taken out for farmers in the Imperial Valley and the water used by city of Los Angeles. 

Emma waited with Misty by the bridge for a ride across the river. At last a nice looking fellow stopped and took her aboard. Their casual conversation turned more serious as they both took a liking to each other. He wanted to see more of her, and she was in favor of that. That bridge isn’t very long, so it must have been love at first sight. She had to get out and leave him to finish the goal she had set for herself, but they made a date to meet in San Diego when she arrived there.

Three days later she arrived in Campo where she set up her tent beside the old abandoned road not far from where Donald and lived in our trailer. I had made a hearty stew and plenty of it, so I invited her to eat with us. Donald, of course, was having his usual Scotch and water and offered her a drink. She accepted with pleasure and we had pleasant evening eating, drinking, and hearing Emma’s stories. She seemed to enjoy herself and took two refills on those cocktails.

Next day, she pushed on after getting a late start. She only made it to the next town, Potrero, where she stayed with my friend, Hilda, a Dutch war bride from Holland after World War Two. Hilda noticed that Misty needed reshoeing badly, and she called her farrier who took care of the problem. Emma stayed over another night with Hilda, and later wrote to her several times, which is why I know a little more of Emma’s story.

It turned out the nice fellow in the truck was a very rich owner of racehorses and had a stable as well asa home in Imperial beach. Currently he was about to race some horses at the Tijuana racetrack. He was also a widower with two children. Emma liked children, so after they went back to Texas where she sold Misty back to her former owners, they returned to Imperial Beach with her new friend and soon to be fiance, where some months later they were married. The last I heard, she was enjoying life, helping care for the race horses, and was learning to be the mother of a ready-made family.