It’s only the second year we’re camping with wild ponies here at Assateague State Park, but we’re calling it a tradition.
Just like last year, we arrive around sunset and walk out to the beach with a beer in hand. Looking north toward Ocean City, we can see the Ferris wheel lit up red and spinning. To the south we can see a few campfires flickering at the national park campground. In front of us is the Atlantic, its waves silvery foam as they break on the shore. And just like last year, the air is warm, the breeze is cool, and my beer is cold. I feel great.
Our friends have already set up their tents and left for dinner at the Assateague Crab House by the time we arrive. Jen texted me earlier: “All set up … On the beach chilling with horses right now.”
We’ve got a fine-tuned set up system for car camping. I set up the tent and our sleeping pads and bag, while Earl erects the canopy and fetches water. In less than 30 minutes we’re done and it’s time to relax.
Tonight we decide to forego the campfire to turn in early – we’ve got another tradition to uphold – wake up at 5 am to make coffee and then watch the sunrise from the beach. And true to our word, we’re up by 5, but mostly because of the wild ponies walking through the campground.
A young male horse calls out to his companion, “Hey are you there?” His friend neighs in return, “Over here.” Horses are loud and they seem to enjoy it.
By 5:20 the eastern sky is brightening quickly. Earl sets up the propane stove and puts a kettle on to boil while he spoons coffee into the French press. In five minutes we’ve got our mugs in our hands and our beach chairs on our backs as we walk up over the dune and on to the beach. Last night we didn’t see the moon, but now it’s risen half way up the sky.
We set up our chairs by the water and sit down to watch the morning show. Sandpipers are already darting in and out the surf, pushing their bills in the sand, searching for a crabby breakfast. If they’re unlucky, a grackle will swoop in and steal their meal. Here and there sand flies up and out of a little hole where a crab is doing some morning housekeeping.
Before the sun peaks over the horizon, the clouds glow pink, and soon enough the orange orb breaks through the water.
Back at camp, our friends are getting ready for the day. Sam and Cindy booked a flounder fishing trip that departs from Ocean City at 8 am. Jen plans to hang out on the beach all day. When we get back, we start some more coffee and Earl starts on breakfast. We’ve volunteered to do French toast and sausage this morning, a welcome change from the overnight oats Earl made last year. Sam was not having it – anything but oats was the request. (Thank god someone else said it so I didn’t have to.)
Earl and I are driving to Snow Hill, about 30 minutes away for a half day kayaking excursion. We arrive and park at Pocomoke River Canoe Company where we’re shown a map of our route. We chose their most popular trip called Porter’s Crossing – 5 ½ miles of easy paddling through bald cypress groves and past water lily beds on the Pocomoke River. We’re assured that it’s nearly impossible to get lost and then they load us in a van and drive us to our put-in. All we have to do is keep paddling until we get back to their own dock in Snow Hill.
All told, it takes us about three hours to finish our paddle. That includes plenty of time spent exploring little coves and looking for wildlife. A boy scout troop started on the water about 10 minutes after us and finished about the same time. Did you know that girls can join the boy scouts now? The troop we saw had several girl members.
If you’ve never kayaked before but want to try, I can recommend it to anyone, including beginners. It’s easier than canoeing and kayaks usually have back rests – which make for a comfortable ride. The boats are more stable than canoes and it’s easy to get the hang of controlling the boat. In fact, I think my mother could do it, which is saying something because the woman can’t even ride a bicycle! The Pocomoke River Canoe Co. also has shorter paddling options if you are looking to test the waters, so to speak.
When we get back to our campsite, we put our beach gear in the wagon and head out to find our friends. From the dune we can see their striped umbrella, and next to that Jen laying in the sand wrapped up in a beach towel like a mummy. Sam corrects me, “A baked potato.” We ask about the fishing trip – nobody caught anything big enough to keep, but it was a beautiful day on the water.
We spend the balance of the afternoon under a beach umbrella, watching the surf and the brown pelicans that have flown in to dive bomb a school of fish just off the beach.
Around 5:30 I head to the bath house to shower and wash off all the sunblock and bug spray. Then I apply more bug spray – last night my ankles got eaten up. The bath houses at the state park are some of the best I’ve ever seen at a campground. Huge and clean, with flush toilets and private shower stalls with hot water. This is one of the best reasons to camp here– the national park next door only has cold showers and chemical toilets.
At the campsite Jen and Sam start preparing sausages with grilled peppers and onions for dinner. Those same horses from this morning walk down the road again, calling out to each other. And then things get wild fast.
First, it’s a golf cart speeding by. Then a park ranger with their lights on, then another ranger and another one. Everyone in the campground is curious – something is happening on the other side of the camping loop.
I’m curious too so I walk down the road, following the horses until I round the loop and see a group of people standing in the road. As I get closer, I realize they are standing over a child and I can hear one of them say “There he is, he’s coming around.” Immediately I feel ashamed of myself for intruding. The kid, who must have been about 8 years old, had fallen off of this skateboard and was knocked unconscious when his head hit the pavement.
I wanted to turn around to get out of the way, but an ambulance was racing toward the scene from where I’d come from. So I moved ahead toward another group of people standing next to an RV. I thought they were there to gawk, but then I heard one say “It was just born an hour ago.” I was confused at first because I thought they were talking about the kid in the road, but then I saw it, a tiny foal laying in the grass on its side. Just an hour old.
At first I was worried because it was just laying there, not moving much, but then I could see its tail swish. The mother horse stood over the baby, sniffing it and gently bumping her nose on its back. I watched the scene, totally captivated, as the baby slowly gained its strength and lifted its head to look around.
So much was happening at once – this poor kid was getting loaded into an ambulance while this baby horse was about to stand up for the first time. I had to tell my friends and get my camera from camp, and get back here as quickly as possible while making sure to stay out of the way of the ambulance. I ran through the middle of the campground to our site where I excitedly explained what was happening. Cindy and Earl followed me while Sam and Jen stayed at camp to watch the food.
We were just in time and it was the perfect golden light on the scene – the mama horse waited as her baby sat with its head lifted, looking around at the group of people and other horses, all watching and waiting.
Then the baby begins to shift its weight around, first to its front knees. It’s slow and wobbly, but it moves its back legs out a bit and pushes up.
It needs some more leverage so it splays its back legs a little further and gets its butt off the ground.
Once it’s got both back hooves on the ground, it lifts its front, still on its knees as it brings the back legs in. One front hoof on the ground, then the other, and then it’s standing!
And then they’re walking together.
Earl is grinning like a kid, Cindy has tears streaming down her face, my eyes are wide and all I can think is “I can’t believe it!”
As adults, we don’t get to experience that sense of wonder we so often felt as children. Nothing much is new anymore in our day-to-day lives – and this is one of the reasons why travel is so important – to experience the childlike wonder at the world. Just three hours from my house I’m here, in this place, seeing a wild baby horse take its first steps. I’ll never forget it.
As the mama horse and baby start to slowly walk down the road, the ambulance is finally ready to leave. We all move aside and it slowly follows the horses out of camp. The boy and the horse, I hope that they are both healthy and getting stronger.
We walk back to camp, still overwhelmed and moved by what we saw. At dinner, I show Jen and Sam photos of the horses. Then we sit around our campfire for a few hours enjoying the afterglow of the day.
We skip the sunrise on Sunday in favor of sleeping in a bit. Jen makes an egg scramble for breakfast and we say hello to our two horse friends again as they walk the same route through camp. “Where’d you go?” one brays. “I’m behind the tent over here,” the other neighs in response.
Check out is at 11 am and we’re packed up just in time. In three hours Earl and I are back in Philly unloading the car.
If you want to camp at Assateague State Park, you can book up to a year in advance here. Book as early as you can to get a good spot.
And if you want more weekend camping ideas, check out this post.
Please comment if you have any questions. Do you have any camping recommendations or suggestions for things to do and see next year? Please let me know!
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