Adventures in Kentucky's Daniel Boone National Forest

by Linda Aksomitis

Trail Boss Bill Tankersley leads the pack across Cumberland Gap River in Kentucky.

The Cumberland River was wide-a ten-lane highway dividing a wilderness of granite and the Daniel Boone National Forest. Crystal clear, the water rushed forward catching in swirls and small rapids that glistened in the bright afternoon sunshine. The trail boss, Bill, let his horse pick her way between the rocks and choose a spot to cross.

His arm waved us forward. "Wait until I'm across, then head out. Keep your eyes on the me on the other side. Don't look down or you'll get dizzy. Keep your horses out of the rapids, where it's safe."

The instructions seemed simple enough but my heart was in my throat anyway. Images of Billy Crystal in City Slickers, riding into the water and nearly being swept away filled my mind. I wasn't a city slicker-far from it, but where I was from the biggest river we could boast was not more than a trickle compared to this rushing beast.

Bill's horse stepped into the water. At least it wasn't deep where he crossed, reaching not as high as his stirrups. The horse sidestepped, like it wanted to walk with the flowing current instead of horizontal to it. Finally he waved, and the first of us guided our horses to the water's edge.

So far Edith, the Tennessee Walking Horse I was riding, hadn't shown a real love for the water. In fact it seemed to me she deliberately raced up to every puddle so she could jump over it and not get her feet wet. This was a different story. It didn't take much encouragement to get her to step into the Cumberland. I envied her bravery.

Bill was right. Looking down into the water definitely made me dizzy-I immediately focused on the tree-lined shoreline opposite me and shook my head. I quickly discovered the big challenge was keeping Edith and I from both ending up in the rapids. Since I'd already been whitewater rafting I knew even those small ones were something to avoid at all costs!

"Come on Edith," I yelled, over the roar of rushing water. I tightened the reins and guided her further to the right, but the rapids were perilously close on our left. Nearby I heard a shout, and turned to see Cathy's horse step down between the rocks, so water came up over its belly. Keeping its feet well under it, the horse made its way back to the safe part of the crossing.

The shore was close. "Come on Edith," I said, "lets go girl. Just a little further."

The water became shallow quickly, so Edith was soon just ankle deep in it. I turned to watch the rest of the dozen other riders make their way across the river, feeling a sense of accomplishment I hadn't expected. After all, I thought, rubbing Edith's neck, she deserved all the credit.

Indeed Edith was the first gaited horse I'd ever ridden, being raised in Quarter Horse and Appaloosa country in Canada. Showing my appy mare, I'd learned how to get her to switch from a trot to a lope quickly, so I'd have to admit most of my miles were made in only two gaits: walk or lope. With Edith, I could feel her feet under me-mind you she was also the tallest horse I'd ever ridden so had a lot of leg to move! She'd have towered over my little 14. 2 hand appy.

Enjoying the great outdoors.

A registered Tennessee Walking Horse, Edith was an expert at the gaits that give this breed a reputation for its smooth ride, plus she had no problem demonstrating her agility over the rocky terrain. A gaited horse has a running-walk gait that is totally different from what I was used to. In fact, the gaited horse moves with what is called an overstride, with its right rear over right front, left rear over left front, producing what I can only describe as an experience any other horseback ride I've ever taken. Other gaits of the Tennessee Walking Horse include: the rack, pace, foxtrot, stepping pace, single-foot and other variations of the famous running walk.

My ride on Edith had started out at an unloading spot for the horse trailer, where our group from Bill's Riding Stables headed down the highway a short distance to the Sheltowee Trail in the Daniel Boone National Forest. Edith's horseshoed feet clip-clopped over the pavement while I got a feel for her handling. She was immediately responsive and I was soon chattering away at her like we were old friends-of the animal-person variety.

Sheltowee Trail led around the rim of so-called hills-but my flatlander assessment definitely classed them with the mountains I'd ridden through in Montana. At the start we were several hundred feet or so above the Cumberland River, which was visible at various points. Mind you those were my least favorite views, since when I could see the river it meant Edith and I were walking nonchalantly along a foot wide ledge. Mind you I must admit I felt much safer on her than I'd have done walking myself.

The forest was thick and dense in most places, with a variety of trees. Hemlock, holly, hickory, birch, wild magnolia, elm and poplar blocked my view of the sky.