We wanted to see some horses. The Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range is one of only four areas in the lower 48 states that is maintained by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) for the benefit of wild horses or burros. Comprising 38,000 acres in and around the Pryor Mountains, it is home to about 120 mustangs as well as other wildlife. We looked at the BLM brochure that is available online, and it seemed to give us all the information we needed. We were aware that a 4 WD, high- clearance, short wheelbase vehicle is necessary for some of the roads. To quote the brochure: “Roads are difficult in all conditions and nearly impassable during inclement weather.” We were familiar with the rapid temperature and wind changes in the mountains. We took extra clothes, food and water, filled the tank before we left, and informed family back in Chicago as well as the folks at the Grandview Campground in Hardin that we were setting off into a remote area.
It takes quite some time to get to the Range. We arrived at mid-day. We did see a small building called the Pryor Mountain Wild Mustang Center, and a BLM administration center, but perhaps due to the holiday we did not see any activity at either facility. The map of the Range that was posted at the entrance to the Range is the same as the one we found online. It is cryptic as BLM maps tend to be. We saw one road that circled the entire park, with many twists and turns and a few points of interest. We determined we were on that road and went forth.
The terrain in Pryor Mountains is referred to as cold desert. It is mostly rocks, very short, twisty pines, sagebrush and rough vegetation. The roads were rife with deep dips and high hills to climb, areas that seemed to be made up solely of rocks, and constant altitude changes, up and down and then up again. This was fun for about 20 minutes and then the shaking and bouncing got annoying. Our vehicle is a 4WD Toyota Sequoia, with a high clearance and a moderate wheelbase, but sometimes it seemed we were in a hole we would not be able to get out of. Sometimes the road dropped straight down under our feet and I had to get out to see where exactly it was going. Sometimes it seemed to go straight up. But we wanted to see wild horses and we assumed the road would straighten out eventually, for at least part of the way. We were wrong. This went on for about four hours, up and down, east and west, bone- jarring and rivet-popping every inch of the way. Moreover, driving like this was extremely slow. Even with a smaller, more agile vehicle designed for such roads, it was always going to be time-consuming.
I had to grip and wrench the steering wheel, sometimes inching forward in tiny spurts, using low-4 to crawl over hills and tip down valleys. We were exhausted but there
was nothing for it but to keep going, because to go back the way we had come would mean more hours of the same kind of thing.
At some point we realized we were climbing a mountain. True to the character of BLM maps, we had no idea of which mountain or how high it was. We saw a few isolated horses and photographed them from a distance.
Then we came to a very short, somewhat more level area with … people, vehicles and horses! We were so delighted to see other humans and hoped to get some information, so we approached them, very carefully because they were very close to the horses. They had cameras and sound equipment and said they were a film crew working on a documentary called “American Horses.” We asked them about the roads out of the park, and they confirmed that we were at the top (northern) edge of the park, and told us which upcoming fork to take to get down off the mountain and out of the park. However, one woman gave the opinion that it was at least 3 ½ hours of “more of the same,” i.e., similar terrain, before we would get to flat land, and sometime after that to get to pavement. We hoped this was an exaggeration. As we passed the crew, we saw that they were camping, well-equipped with tents, food containers and driving vehicles built on a similar truck platform to ours. This explained why they were not concerned about the time – they were not leaving the mountain that night.
We did get to see the horses and they are magical. Unafraid of humans, they did not seem disturbed by the film crew or our vehicle. They are huge, too, bigger than the horses we had seen at farms all across Montana. This was their land and they were the shaggy, multicolored rulers.
It was already getting dark and cold on the snowy mountaintop. As we started down, we realized the woman from the film crew had not exaggerated, that this road was just as bad as the one we had come up on, so many hours ago. We continued on with full headlights on. We continued to jolt along by inches, stopping occasionally as the dust almost obscured the road with every gust of wind. And then we lost the road.
We could not see anything ahead except more rocks and rough vegetation, no clear tracks. This had often been the case during the day so we got out and I examined before and behind us with a flashlight. I could not see anything resembling a track. It was nearly dark. We decided to stop for the night, since a wrong turn could send us off a cliff or off into uncharted desert.
Though the temperature was in the 40s, we were not worried as we had brought extra clothes. I put on a warm sweatshirt. My winter coat was handy in case we needed a blanket. We had plenty of food – sandwiches, tortilla chips, dried fruit and fresh
cherries – and water. We reclined the seats of the car after backing it up to something closer to level ground. We left the car running for a while to make sure it was good and warm. Exhausted, I dropped off to sleep. It was only about 10:30 p.m. Later, we awoke, ate a little more and warmed up the car, then I went back to sleep.
Dawn comes early in the mountains, and at around 5:30 I thought maybe we could see the road, so I went outside. I discovered we had gone off the track a good eighth of a mile back. We had stopped just in time; the piece of ground where we were parked sloped down on solid rock into a section of trackless desert, and we’d been headed at a considerable angle away from the road.
Finally, we thought it might be okay to start down. It took some doing to back out of the area where we’d stopped. Then it was perhaps an hour and a half of more rough road before we hit dirt, and another hour to pavement. We were still pretty exhausted. We stopped for gas at Lovell and realized we really needed a proper meal, so we used the gas station restroom to clean up a bit and found the Brandin’ Iron, where we got eggs and potatoes and gradually started to feel like human beings again.
Someday we’ll live like horses, Free rein from your old iron fences.
There’s more way than one to regain your senses, Break out the stalls, and live like horses.
*Song by Elton John and Bernie Taupin
