e Real Rough Riding
Dude Riders suffer a variety of hardships
on these trips through the Great Smokies,
but they love it anil eome back year after
year for more.
By BILL SHARPE
Waynesville. — On a lowering
June day, 18 "Wilderness Riders"
fitted themselves to saddles and
horses preparatory to a 10-day
pack-trail trip through the most
rugged mountain country remain¬
ing in eastern America — the Great
Smokies Mountain National Park.
The party consisted of 13
women and five men — every one
of them city folks. None of them
had ever ridden the wilderness
before. One of them, an amiable
landscape architect from New
Orleans, confessed blithely, as he
started to mount a pasture-green
horse, that he hadn’t ridden in 20
years . . . and when he said it,
Rufc Sutton, hard-bitten hostler at
Cataloochie Ranch, turned his eyes
grimly toward the distant blue of
Clingman’s Dome and muttered
something which might have been
a prayer. One of the women had
"crammed" on riding along Cin¬
cinnati footpaths for six months.
Her instructor gave her a diploma,
his permission to take the trip and.
she added, a fervent blessing and
a rabbit’s foot.
THE STATE. JULY 30. 1949
Others in the group included
government employes, a con¬
tractor and his wife from Florida,
a female "private eye" who
watches out for shop-lifters in a
large New York department store,
a commercial artist, and a statis¬
tician from the New York City
Health Department. A more un¬
likely bunch of toughies you never
met this side of a cream puff.
A bunch of the hill folks leaning
against the corral fence made
books on which one of the tender-
feet first would be sent back off
the trail, but Tom Alexander,
leader of many a pack trail trip,
warned them to be moderate.
"Dudes’ll do it," he said. "None of
this crowd will give up — I'll bet
you." Pride, long anticipation of
the trip, good sportsmanship, the
expense ($180) for the expedition
— something keeps them going in
the face of unaccustomed rugged¬
ness.
On the first night, the riders
camped at Heintooga Ridge, a
lonely outpost on top of the
Smokies, after a rather difficult
8-mile ride. Just as dinner was
being prepared, the heavens
opened up. In two days, 12 inches
of rain fell — a record even in a
country known for sudden cloud¬
bursts. In the Smokies, trails dis¬
appeared into quagmires, mild
mountain streams became unford-
able torrents. Soaked to the skin,
the little band rode forlornly back
to the ranch in the morning.
But, dried out. they bravely hit
the trail again the next day. and
not a rider whimpered or con¬
sidered deserting for the rest of
the 150-mile trip.
These trips into the tough lands
of America are sponsored by the
American Forestry Association,
and are held in wilderness areas
throughout the country. On this
Smoky trip, the fee was $180 a
rider, but total outlay was con¬
siderably more, since riders must
pay their transportation from
distant points, and are responsible
for all their own gear.
Itinerary was skilfully mapped
out, with the shortest day’s ride
( Continued on page 16)
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