Wild Mustangs in Carolina

October 29th

Finally. Adventure, more so than before.

To all those who say that the breathtaking wild scenery of America is west of the Mississippi I say, take a good look at the east coast.

And today required some very good looking. These horses were hard to find. Once we arrived at Corova Beach, we temporarily jettisoned all our cargo, save for the camera. There are no roads of any kind, save for packed sand from four wheel drive vehicles. At times we wondered which was more futile: trying to ride over the sand at a pathetic 4.5 miles an hour, our just walk at half that speed.

These stubs are all that remain from a massive docking system centuries ago.

Over 400 years ago the Spanish tried to colonize this island. We could see the ruins of an elaborate docking system as we rode in. For whatever reason, the colony never took off, but the horses stayed, and stayed, and stayed. For 400 years. And we are going to find them.


We spent nearly an hour walking, riding, and cursing. The wind didn't do us any favors either, blowing at 15 miles an hour right into our faces. Eventually, we saw horse tracks and took a photo. We were tired and the sun was going down. Would this story have a sad ending?

We were ready to give it up. Nicole's knee was hurting and we hand sand all over the moving parts of our bicycles. Frustrated, sad, we turned around.

Suddenly, behind a dune, I saw a tour group. Hey, they are looking for the same thing we are, and where they are, the horses can't be far behind!

"Wait," I shouted to Nicole. I chucked my bike behind a sand dune and started running. Behind the dunes was a landscape of plants and shrubs that were literally able to grow right out of the sand. The tour group had already driven away. No horses. Yet.

I walked about 100 yards towards where I saw the tour group vehicles. No horses. There were some thick bushes and trees on the other side of the sand packed road. Could the horses be in here?

I walked into the forest growing on the sand. Hmm, no horses, but just in front of me were horse droppings. Well, that's a sign. I stepped to the left of the horse droppings. More horse droppings. Fresh ones. I've got to be close.

I head back towards the dunes, where Nicole is sitting by my fallen bicycle. I'm excited to share her the news that they must be very, very close. Then, to both our surprise, we see them: A mother and son grazing the brush. The mother is tall and jet black, with a white splash on its forehead. The young colt is a fantastic brown, with a crescent moon on his forehead. At first they stop eating and look at us, then they simply resume eating. They don't run, as people are not allowed to walk within 50 feet of the animals. They're used to people gawking.

I see you!

The young one hadn't seen people gawk for so long, the mother could care less about us as she keep eating.

Riding where the old dock once stood as the sun slowly sets.

Nicole and I are ecstatic. Wild horses! We each take, oh, about 30 photos, basically squandering what little daylight we have left to capture these magnificent creatures on camera. And my god, they are beautiful.


Of course, we couldn't stay. We had to head back. We were running low on resources (specifically cash) and decided this would be a fitting end, a crown atop the mighty bicycle journey across the east coast.

The majesty is so transcendent.

Sunset on Abermerle Sound on the other side of the island.