Man Can Move Mountains
A true rescue story
| Most of my life I have found it easier relating
to animals. You feel with an animal,
he has
the power, the instinct, and it is pure
without
corruption. To communicate you show,
you
interpret, you sense and feel. If your
requests
are honest and your means of empathy
correct
you develop that connection between
two entities.
Humans gain access to another world,
a less
complicated world were you also receive
the
animals power and strength. This other
world
I believe, taps into our most primordial
inner self and finds us at home and
at peace.
An animal will give of himself to the
very
death for his master, (his god). This
is the
true story of such an animals devotion
to
his master, and the heroic rescue mounted
to save him. My husband and I have
ridden
and trained horses most of our lives.
We've
shown and bred most types. My husband
originally
from Tennessee had fond memories of
his boyhood
ridding Walking horses through the
mountains
of Eastern Appalachia. He had migrated
north
and with Walking horses not being prevalent
in this area he stayed with horses
working
and training other breeds. He frequently
related
stories of the back hills and the horses
he knew as a boy with a yearning and
love
in his voice. Christmas 1988, I went
to his
home town and obtained a young stud
colt,
"Pride Of Stoney". As luck would have
it
the colt was named after Stoney Creek
were
my husband was born and raised. Al, (my
husband)
raised, trained and promoted the colt
taking
Reserve Halter Champion. Everywhere
you saw
Al you saw the colt, they were a two
some
right from the start. By this time we
were
exclusively into Walking horses and
loved
them. Stoney was a member of the family
with
all the traditions. Yes, there were
the traditional
baby pictures showing his growth and
development.
Manners that every child needs to be
taught
, and we took great pride in his growing
into adulthood. Al bred and serviced
mares
with the stallion, Stoney always the
perfect
gentlemen. There were some 10 grand children, (so
to speak), from Stoney in his brief
time
as a stallion. Trail ridding was Stoney
and
Al's forte, their true love, so at
the age
of 5 Stoney was gelded. The Vet called
frequently
to check on Al . You see he knew Stoney
would
be fine but Al was taking it awfully
hard.
We had been on the Michigan shore to
shore
ride traveling across the state almost
300
miles. We had gone on numerous pack
trips
and in 6 months put over 800 miles
on our
horses. Trail ridding was the norm,
Al and
I went places only our boys could take
us.
We loved the adventure, the challenge,
the
getting back to nature. We enjoyed
the idea
we were going places and experiencing
things
few people could. If there was difficulty,
danger, or rough going; it was Al and
Stoney
who lead the way, pulling the horse
out of
the bog, ponying the nervous colt,
or trying
the unsafe trail first. The two of
them concurred
the seemingly impossible together. When
planning
our vacation we decided to visit The
Great
Smokie Mountains National Park. We
would
take the horses and visit Cades Cove
where
Al's great-great uncle had been the
first
white settler. The Great Smokie Mountains
with it's 850 miles of trails and all
of
it's splendor. It seemed a challenge
and
an adventure to be sure , but our boys
were
up to it. This would be the ?Mother
of all
trail rides?. Friends of ours decided
to
come with us on this incredible journey,
little did any of us know what lay
ahead
or how we would be grateful to come
home
alive. Funds everywhere had been cut
and
the park service was no exception.
The spring
of ?94? had been an especially hard
one,
many floods had washed roads away completely.
We were assured trails were fine to
check
with local rangers for specifics. And
so
we headed out to find our adventure.
The
beauty was awe inspiring, so vast,
so larger
than life, and making us feel so insignificant.
We started up New Found Gap road where
you
climb approximately 6,000ft. Your ears
pop,
your stomach is in your throat . Will
the
hitch hold, will the engine make it,
will
the rig make it around the switch backs?
As you breathe a sigh of relief you
soon
realize now comes the bad part, ?Down
Hill?.
You drop some 3,000ft. on roads that
weren`t
made for 40ft. rigs. The transmission
whining
, the smell of burning brakes, you
hold your
breath and hope they hold. We made
it into
the horseman's camp ground at Towstring
getting
ourselves and the horse's bedded down
about
midnight. Our first ride in the Smokies
we
managed to get ourselves lost. We traveled
cross country down the washed out side
of
a mountain. I have a terrible fear
of heights
and Al never does admit we are in trouble
to me for that truly does send me over
the
edge. I kept saying , ?Are you sure
this
is a trail?? ?Oh yes? was the reply,
?Just
follow me and you?ll be OK?. Finally
when
it looked like ? Man From Snowy River
? I
said ,?Al this isn't a trail ,I can't
go
down this? It was a wash out . Red
sand and
clay with deep cuts as the rain had
chiseled
deep groves with the run off. Al's
reply, "Its
a trail now!" My horse knows me, the
more
I panic and cry the slower he goes
, at times
stopping completely until I regain
my composure.
I have learned to close my eyes or
just look
up at the sky and let him carry me
down.
We had a compass and knew camp was
,?That
a way? , but in the mountains , that
a way
may be 10 miles up then down the mountain
only to find your at some impassable
divide.
We found our way in about dark and
with our
wonderful horse?s nothing was unconquerable.
The semi tropical forest surprised
me and
the canopy of laurels seemed a fairy
tale
come true. We traveled 15 - 20 miles
a day
over what is truly Gods country, also
some
of the roughest terrain I have ever
ridden.
Of the 8 million people that visit
the park
every year, only 10% ever get more
than 100ft.
off the road, and we planned to make
up for
this. I had such confidence in our
boys,
we had been every where done every
thing
and they had always gotten us out .
We met
people who with other breeds and types
of
horses lived in the surrounding states
and
our boys seemed to out shine them all
in
work and temperament. I had never seen
such
beauty or felt such a part of it all.
We
had two back country trips planned.
The first
was 24 miles and the horse?s handled
the
packs, the equipment and us well. We
had
worked hard planning what to pack and
the
weight for each horse. Everything needed
for both people and horses had to be
packed
in and out, even horse feed. Water
was every
where so that at least lessened their
load.
Each horse would carry 150lbs. packed
weight
plus rider. On our second back country
trip
our friends (because of their son)
decided
the trails were to dangerous and would
stay
behind in base camp. Marianne told
me latter
she had a premonition the night before
,
something terrible would happen. She
couldn't
shake the feeling if they went they
might
not come back. It had been raining
so hard
my husband and I checked with the park
ranger,
filling a route permit and inquiring
of trail
conditions. Flood warnings had been
posted
for all of North Carolina, but we were
assured
up this high the trails would be fine
, and
although getting through the first
couple
of mountain streams might be difficult
we
were cleared to leave the next morning. The
horse's were quite a sight , so loaded
with
feed and equipment it was difficult
to mount
them. They were good strong horses
and up
for the 32 miles of climbing to an
elevation
of over 6,000ft. Marianne still concerned
watched us as we left making us promise
to
turn around if things got too bad.
If only
it had been that easy. We had made
good time
in rough conditions and were ahead
of schedule
when we reached the Balsam MT. trail.
As
we started in the trail was so overgrown
we couldn't see where we were or where
the
trail was. We could however see the
weather
system below us coming in. A mounting
feeling
of doom was edging into me and I kept
making
suggestions to turn back. We had to
find
a place were you could turn around
with out
falling of the mountain and with this
weather
system moving in we had to find shelter.
We felt trapped as if some unknown
force
was sucking us in further and further.
How
the horses walked the trail I don't
know.
Stoney led the way acting as if he
were walking
on egg shells, his nose to the ground
each
step he tried. We found out latter
the Balsam
MT. trail is one of the most remote
and rugged
areas of the park. Even the ranger
hadn't
been up there. An ice storm had toppled
trees
some 4 years earlier and that was the
last
people could remember the trail being
used.
The only death at Cattalouchie had
happened
on this same trail. With park funds
cut no
maintenance had been done in years.
Places
in the trail were not even a foot path, at
one point nothing was left of the trail
but
a rock strategically placed filling
the void
between air. At least a half dozen
fallen
trees to big and low to get under and
to
high to get over crossed the trail.
Other
trees that had to be crawled under
,or jumped
while making sure you hit the foot
wide remains
of the trail on the other side. The
Balsam
MT. marks the head waters for the Big
Creek
and all the rain had washed what was
left
of the trail away. As R/C, (my horse)
strided
across air to reach the single rock
outcropping
I became hysterical, frozen in fear
screaming
as he balanced there. No words can
describe
the shear panic of what seems assured
death
at each and every step, feeling yourself
falling hopelessly at every breath.
The trail
was impassable , we couldn't turn around
there was no place to make an emergency
shelter
for the night ( there wasn't enough
trail
left to lay down on). Al rationed surely
they wouldn't send people up here,
it had
to get better, this was a bad section
if
we get through this we would be home
free.
If we could make it to Tri Corner Knob
we
would have shelter for the night against
the storm. The rain was blinding and
my mind
simply couldn't go on. Exhausted, overwhelmed
with fear my husband finally got me
to stop
screaming by rebuking me for scarring
the
horse. He got me quieted down and we
began
to literally traverse the side of the
mountain.
Each time we would think the worst
behind
us and each time the task became larger
bringing
us deeper and deeper into trouble.
Stoney
went places even today I would swear
impossible,
pulling himself , my husband ,the weight
of his gear and leading the way for
R/C.
and myself. He was our hope to get
through.
I followed as if a machine , numb without
emotion left in me. It took us 9 hours
to
go 3 miles. Stoney scrambled to keep
his
footing with Al talking to him, "You
just
got to buddy" and the horse as if on
a mission
kept going. Stoney and my horse R/C
were
raised together, if Stoney says you
can do
it my horse will follow. We staggered
into
the 3 sided shelter at night fall.
We would
rest ,eat, build a fire to try to keep
warm
and things would look better in the
morning.
We did not know we were getting the
tail
end of the hurricane hitting Georgia.
It
rained all night and was still raining
the
next morning. Exhausted and cold we
headed
out again. I left a message in the
shelter
log incase we didn't make it to let
people
know what had happened. Al kept trying
to
reassure. Each obstacle, each traverse
,
each climb the horse took that day
is the
story of an animal doing the impossible
simply
because he is asked. In my opinion
we asked
more from our horses than was physically
possible, and each time my husband
said to
Stoney ,"We have to " each time the
horse
did the job making it possible for
us to
get through. Stoney stepped forward
onto
a narrow portion of the trail and it
gave
way. We watched in horror as he fought
violently
to get back up onto the trail. He struggled
,fell, and rose again. Struggling to
gain
a foothold he fought desperately as
the rock
gave way beneath him. He got almost
to the
top where shear rock had to be scaled,
he
tried and fell again. Then as if mustering
all his strength he managed to get
to his
feet and held himself there for a moment
just looking at Al. I will never forget
that
look. Al started screaming ,"No Stoney
,you
got to fight ,you can do it", and the
look
seemed to say I'm sorry boss this time
I
just can't, it's time to let go. Al
tried
to hold on as the lead pulled from
his hands
and Stoney fell end over end down the
mountain.
Al began screaming ,"Whoa Stoney Whoa",
as
if the command would somehow magically
stop
the downward plummet, as if somehow
, some
way Stoney would find it with in himself
to obey. This time though it simply
wasn't
with in his power. Then I watched as
the
trap door opened and down Al went.
As I looked
over the cliff I could see nothing.
No husband
, no Stoney, just a small path of destruction
down the mountain as far as I could
see.
I didn't speak , or scream, or move
. I just
stood there, I don't remember thinking
at
all just blank. I stood there for what
placed
like an eternity. Then I heard my husband's
voice calling to me. I couldn't see
him but
his voice gave me reassurance. He was
OK,
he had found Stoney on a ledge over
350ft.
down the mountain, they were on a ledge
5,700ft.
up one step in any direction and they
would
fall the rest of the way to the floor
below.
There was no way up and no way down
for Stoney.
Al removed Stoneys tack, thinking long
and
hard. He just couldn't leave Stoney
there
to starve to death on that ledge. He
had
a knife and he would have to find the
courage
to use it. He would cut Stoneys throat
to
save him an agonizing death alone on
the
ledge. Al felt it was his responsibility,
but every time Stoney looked at him
he just
couldn't bring himself to do it. Al
climbed
and pulled himself up far enough and
called
for me to throw a rope to him and he
climbed
out. We started the forced march for
help.
On we went sliding down, falling, climbing,
having the horse we had left pull us
along,
all the time thinking if only we had
gotten
a few more feet. If only we had not
come.
Al kept repeating ,?I had to leave
him what
choice did I have?? I kept saying, "Leave
me , take the horse and get help. I
can't
do this". My husband wouldn't leave
me and
most of the way I kept holding him
back.
My husband said allot sometimes and
then
nothing for miles. Each of us trying
to face
the loss of what was truly a member
of the
family. The sight of Stoney falling
end over
end down the mountain, and the look
in his
eyes flashed in our minds like haunting
nightmares.
My horse pulled us both into base camp
just
before dark. Marianne had stood vigil
waiting
for our return , she didn't even recognize
us (we looked that bad). Then the sign
of
recognition in her face with the immediate
question, "Where's Stoney?" I tried
to wave
her off, the words could not be spoken
.
"We lost him" I muttered as the tears
began
to flow. My God somebody help us ,
our family hadn't made it back, part of it was
still
out there. It was to late to mount
a rescue
that night , it would have to wait
until
morning. With every drop of wind and
rain
Stoney seemed to slip further and further
away from us. With every gust of wind
we
felt him out there. We visioned him
alone
and hoped morning wouldn't be to late. Memories
flooded back into my head of what the
horses
had done for us. The constant training
when
they were young had paid off. The impossible
tasks we had asked of them ,they had
done
. They had given honestly and with
every
bit of heart they had. While on a foot
ledge
with full pack jump a tree and while
your
at it hit the 6 inch ledge on the other
side.
Get down on your knees and crawl under
a
tree while the remnants of broken limbs
pierce
your body, calmly step over air and
balance
yourself on a rock, but not too long
as the
rock may not be anchored that securely.
The
times we scaled the side of the mountain
with our bare hands and on finding
the trail
called to the horses, the sound of
them fighting
to get to us with falling shale and
rocks
giving way as they found their way
to us.
How hard they had fought to come to
us. We
asked them to play mountain goat, while
the
rocks give way beneath you traverse
the side
of a mountain. Over and over we asked
and
time and time again they answered with
faith
and devotion. For Stoney to die on
that ledge
due in part to his trust and devotion
seemed
to horrible. Horsemen came from all
over
for the rescue, Oklahoma, Tennessee,
Wyoming,
North Carolina, Alabama and Michigan.
Tony
was the optimist , not willing to hear
or
surrender to Stoney's not coming out.
Dan
had been involved in horse rescues
before
and nobody could out walk the funny
gaited
man from Wyoming. Could the horse survive
not only the fall but 24 hours out
there?
Would he try to move in desperation
and fall
again, could they get him out at all?
We
had been told the rangers shot the
animal
then dynamite the carcass. The rangers
would
try for a human but it was just far
to dangerous
with an animal to risk human life.
At first
light 4 rangers and half a dozen horsemen
started out. They would use and old
maintenance
road to go most of the way, then they
would
have to pack in over 7 miles climbing
to
an elevation of almost 6,000ft. They
carried
400ft. of rope, repelling gear, axes,
saws,
shovels, trail blazing equipment. Al
who
had already walked 21 miles the day
before
tried to keep up with the man from
Wyoming.
Al's blisters bleeding his legs bursting
had one thought ,? Hold on buddy we're
commin!.
The first on the site was Dan and down
he
went. He told me latter it looked pretty
bad and he wanted to get to the horse
before
Al did. Then the call came up, "He's
alive
and he's standing!" It was at this
point
the young ranger Wess spoke up, "We're
going
to get this horse out of here , I don't
care
if it's a foot at a time or an inch
at a
time but this horse is coming out .
He didn't
make it this far for us to give up
now",
and so they started. At the rescue
site it
was now about 5 P.M. , every one worked
desperately,
each seemed to tear into the impossible
task
of making footholds up the mountain
to get
this horse out. Not one man ever voiced
the
possibility of failure or destroying
the
horse, they would not face it. Yet
it hung
in the back of their minds. They shot
lines,
used pick axes, saws, clearing equipment,
shovels, ropes, and when they had nothing
they dug with their bare hands. Creeping
a few inches this way a foot that.
Exhaustion
and impending nightfall made their
work all
the more hurried. They had laid 1/4
of a
mile of trail across the shear side
of a
mountain, but the last 100ft. they
could
do no more, there was a solid rock
face.
They had taken the only route open
to them
and still the last 100ft. was a grade
so
steep and of rock nothing could be
done.
Tony brought water , Dan brought electrolytes,
between these and seeing a partial
route
of escape open Stoney seemed to liven
up.
Jerry another rescuer on the scene
well versed
in horse's said to Al, " You know your horse, can he do it?" Al thought Stoney could.
Jerry
spoke again, " If he goes crazy and
starts
fighting we can't hold him, on the
other
hand after everything he's been through
if
he doesn't have enough fight left in
him
we can't get him up the last 100ft.
Does
he have it in him?" A winch was out
of the
question the horse wouldn't have any
legs
left. Rump ropes would only impede
what Stoney
now had to do on his own. Jerry and
Ray
would attach 2 ropes to Stoneys halter
and
stand at the top of the trail . If
Stoney
lost his footing they hoped they could
hold
his head down enough to keep him from
falling
over backwards. Al would be at the
bottom
giving encouragement , Al had to stay
clear
of the horse, Stoney might fear injuring
Al and in the momentary pause lose
the fight.
The men had done all they could do
, Stoneys
life now hung on this last all or nothing
attempt. My husband was sure Stoney could do it and said ,"He's never let me
down,
he won't go crazy if I'm here. If this
is
physically possible and I ask him he'll
do
it". Everyone was ready, everyone held
their
breath as Al gave Stoney a finial pat
of
love, let go of his halter, stepped
back
and screamed "Get it son!". The will
of every
man was with the horse as he dug in,
you
could see every man digging with him,
their
hands clinched in fists. Rocks flew, Stoney's
legs faltered , Al kept yelling ,"Get
it Stoney ,get it!". He clawed , his footing
went out , he slipped and dug in more.
"Get
it , get it" ,Al's voice screamed again
and
again . Stoney fought and scrambled
and up
the last 100ft. to the trail he went
with
Al in joyful tears. All that remained
was
getting them all home safely. All of
us would
be bounded forever in the memory of
an impossible
rescue of a horse that literally fell
off
a mountain. Of the courage , the will,
and
fortitude of the men who wouldn't let
him
die, and ofcourse the horse that never
gave
up and his bound with his master.
Stoney
is on R & R , nothing but cuts
and bruises
from his ordeal . Al and I can finally
walk
again and truly believe in miracles.
To everyone
who cared and worried and fought to
save
a horse, we can all bathe in the knowledge
of what mans inner strength can accomplish
when called upon - IT TRULY CAN MOVE
MOUNTAINS
! Niki Oliver |