06/10/2025
There I was, sun kissed in a valley, on the side of the road. Surrounded by nothing but miles of sagebrush fields, snow capped mountains peaking above the rolling hills and my friend serenading me as I stood behind the car, half naked, smiling at this moment I knew I wouldn't forget.
We drove about an hour East of Mammoth Lakes, California, following the bends and turns of the near empty road as the Sierra Nevada mountain range, shrunk in the rear view behind us.
When GPS said we had 20 minutes until we reached our destination, I figured this was the best time to change out of my hiking clothes.
I could see no cars for miles ahead or behind us. So I pulled over, opened the SUV hatch and stripped off my clothes while my friend Kelli from the passenger seat, belted out the words to Hank Williams Jr's, Family Tradition. "Lordy, I have loved some ladies and I have loved Jim Beam. And they both tried to kill me in 1973."
As we approached our final turn, we could see the dirt road appear as we came up over our last hill. We were full of laughs as the last couple minutes were filled with dips in the road that made our stomachs jump, like a roller coaster does.
"In one mile, turn right" Siri said as I pressed the option to end the route and disconnect from the last bit of cell service I would have for the next 3 days. We could see our destination way ahead but it was going to be a bit before we got there, driving 1 mph down the bumpy road.
That's when we saw the herd for the first time. First taking shape as dark blurry specks, but soon enough filling out into the unmistakable shape of the dozens of wild mustangs we would be photographing the next few days. And they were right next to camp!
Once we arrived, we got settled. Setting up our tents, meeting the others in our group including our photography guide, the wrangler that would be cooking us incredible meals and the packers that would be guide us on horseback over the next few days.
Sunset was quickly approaching after dinner on night 1 as we made our way on foot, through the bogs towards the herd. Palominos, bays, buckskins, dappled greys filled the fields.
And within a couple minutes of observing from a distance, the sparring started.
The grunts, the winnies, the huffs and puffs, the dust clouds. Rearing up, going blow for blow, mouths wide open ready to take a chunk out of whatever piece of their opponents body was near enough to reach.
At first, you swear you're going to witness a serious injury if one of those hooves or bites actually connects. But soon realize that most of this sparring we were seeing was playful.
Play fighting among young males, helps them develop physical and social skills, establish dominance hierarchies, and prepare for future conflicts. It's a natural way for them to test their strength and learn how to interact with each other.
This was my third time photographing wild mustangs (Pryor Mountains in Montana, McCullough Peaks in Wyoming and now River Springs in California) but the first time I had seen so much playfulness.
They were curious about us but not curious enough to check us out too closely. We're not there to be-friend them, disrupt or move them. Just to simply observe, learn, and appreciate their presence.
That night, we fell asleep to the sound of their whinnies less than a mile from camp and awoke a couple times to coyotes yips, yaps, howls and barks way off in the distance.
I hear the coyotes many nights at home, but not usually from the floor of a tent. There was a moment where the sounds were unsettling, but it was fleeting. I'd close my eyes and listen. I'd think about how small I am out here in all of this wildness and remind myself that once I'm back home in my warm bed, I will miss these heart pumping moments.
We woke up the following morning, ahead of a beautiful sunrise and picked up photographing where we left off the night prior. After breakfast, we left on our first trip by horse back, further into the backcountry to our next camp, in search of smaller bands.
I'm back home in Buffalo now, dreaming of waking up in that valley, being startled awake by howls. Smelling the sage, steeped in deep conversation about the lands and history around us, surrounded by like minded people with interests, appreciation and loves similar to my own.
Take the trips. Meet new people. Open your mind. Burn moments into your brain. Let yourself cry when you're overwhelmed by what you're seeing. Create new memories from sounds and smells. Don't worry so much. Try new things and appreciate the opportunity we have to do so.
--------------------------------
If you have any interest in a trip like this (no riding or photography experience necessary), let me know and I will share all of the details and connect you with the right people.
