Sherry McLean

I grew up a City girl, but with Big Country dreams. In my earliest memories, horses were always right there. Picture books with "horseys" were my favorite. Children's books, movies, T.V shows—if they included horses, I wanted to hear or see them again and again.

There was no place for a horse in our suburban neighborhood, but that never kept me from trying. My dad thought he put the matter to rest when he said I couldn't have a horse until I could afford one ("Where is a 10 year-old going to get money to buy a horse?" he thought.). But, I started my first business at ten, working summers taking care of the dogs and cats of vacationing neighbors. By age 14 I had the money and had found the horse I wanted. Dad pointed out that I had no place to keep the horse; and, couldn't get to anyplace that might stable the horse anyway, since I was too young to drive. (Grown-up logic so often collides with little girl dreams.) Anyway, on my 18th birthday, freed from parental dictates, my dream of having my own horse finally came true.

Through the years with my first Quarter Horse, Moon; to more recently times with the small pasture of Tennessee Walking horses my husband and I enjoy, I have marveled at the strength and athleticism of these magnificent animals. A well conditioned horse will carry you through mountain passes; across rivers and streams; over rocks, and mud and sand. They will carry you up the steepest slope; and, bring you safely back down over trials covered with wet leaves, loose gravel and tangled tree roots. They will take a long drink; eat a little grain and hay; and, be ready to do it all again the next day.

I sometimes wondered why other sports equipment—from running shoes, to tennis racquets, to football pads—were constantly improving, but the trail riding tack we used with our equine athletes was not much different than had been used for centuries. The choices seemed to be brown leather or black leather with nickel or brass snaps and buckles. That seemed a little strange, since leather, nickel and brass don't like sweat, water, mud and dirt—all the things we find in trail riding. They crack, split, harden, rot and rust when exposed to the very elements we trail riders find to be so much fun.

We all learn so much in those long, relaxing talks around the campfire after the sun has set and the horses are safely put away. My husband and I are blessed with horse camping friends who are full of knowledge abo