By Allanna Jackson

The White Mountain Trail System was originated by horsemen for non-motorized use. I’ve ridden all the trails in the White Mountain Trail System on horseback and hiked most of them. I’ve bicycled only a few. Why do I prefer a horse over a bicycle for trail riding? One word: Companionship. Yes, I do hike with other people. Yes, I could find a group to bicycle with. I’m not talking about human company. The bicycle itself is not a companion. A horse is a living, thinking, emotional, social creature that I can have a relationship with and that’s what fascinates me.

My bicycle has never pointed out a flock of turkeys running up the slope beside the trail the way Cinnamon has several times. My horses have shown me deer, elk, pronghorn, lizards, squirrels, birds, snakes, foxes, coyotes, rabbits, and more. On a bicycle I must focus on the trail to avoid crashing. On a horse I can admire the scenery. A horse can see the scenery and the trail simultaneously. Cinnamon sometimes lets me know I’m not as observant of our surroundings as I could be while riding her.

My bicycle has never helped me find my way. Yes, I could put a GPS on the bike, but it requires functional batteries and satellite signals. My first horse, a Tennessee Walking Horse mare nicknamed Sassy, was 80% blind in her left eye, but that didn’t prevent her from being an orienteering expert. Sassy helped me find our way out of the maze of old roads on top of Timber Mesa numerous times before there were marked trails there.

One day I trailered Sassy out to Linden to go riding with a friend. We saddled up and set off on an unmarked route my friend and her husband used. After a while we decided to swap horses, just for fun. My friend was riding Sassy when we got to a junction where she admitted she wasn’t sure which way to go. I told her, “Just give Sassy her head. She’ll go back to my trailer.” Sassy walked purposefully down the route to the right, though my friend thought maybe we should go left. five minutes later Sassy stopped at a barbed wire fence. My truck and trailer were straight in front of us on the other side of the fence across a small wash. We followed the fence line about 50 yards to the gate into my friend’s property.

One sunny winter day I was riding Cinnamon in Scott Reservoir area on a foot of new snow. I’d been taking Cinnamon for walks over there all her life, but that day she kept looking up the canyon wall beside the trail so I let her pick our route. She promptly turned left, climbing up a slope I hadn’t considered passible for a horse. On top, Cinnamon wandered through the snow, looking all around. She went left to look over the edge into the canyon, then right to where she could see the familiar trail, back and forth through the trees. When we reached a familiar trail junction I realized Cinnamon’s wander had a purpose — she was exploring to fill a gap in her mental map of the area.

My bicycle has never helped me open gates. That’s why TRACKS has installed rollover ramps on some of the trails. The usual way for a horse to help with a gate is to sidestep beside the gate so the rider can reach the latch, and then sidestep and pivot to open the gate, go through it and close it again.

Cinnamon’s sire, Koko, was 24 years old when I imported him from Alberta, Canada. Koko was trained and used for trail riding, herding cattle, pulling a cart, and exhibition in shows and parades. Koko was a very amiable, cheerful stallion with a kindly sense of humor. Even at his advanced age Koko enjoyed trail rides and was always eager to see what was around the next corner. Koko wouldn’t admit to knowing how to side pass so I led him through gates. One day on our way home from the Ice Cave, Koko sped up as we approached the gate at the trailhead. Instead of stopping to let me dismount, Koko flung the gate open with his nose and marched through. He strutted home as if to say, “See, I don’t need your help to open gates!” I laughed, which made Koko even happier. This is hereditary, Cinnamon opens gates with her nose whenever she can.

I’ve never lost a shoe while hiking. Sassy pulled off only one shoe in 10,000 miles of riding in these mountains. I found it and the farrier put it back on. Cinnamon sometimes lets me know when her boots come off. We’ve only lost 2 of them in 17 years. My bicycle was getting flat tires every half mile until I had shields put in the tires. I don’t know if that solved the problem or not. I’ve been hiking or trail riding Cinnamon.

You may wonder, isn’t it dangerous to ride a half-ton animal with a mind of its own? Yes, but a bicycle can also cause life-altering injuries or death. My full-suspension mountain bicycle has bucked me off! My Dad, sister and I were pedaling through a rocky section on the road below Timber Mesa when my bicycle got both wheels jammed in the rocks with all shocks fully compressed. Boing! The bicycle launched me straight up in the air! I landed on my feet unhurt with the bicycle leaning against my leg.



My horses are smarter than my bicycle. The bicycle is merely mindless, mechanical transportation, not a thinking, sociable companion. On the other hand, the bicycle is better for commuting. The bicycle can’t care when I lock it in a closet for hours while I’m working. The only mischief the bicycle gets into is falling over on the other things in the closet.