The Assateague Wild Horses have fascinated me since I was barely a teenager. It was during a family vacation to Ocean City, Maryland that I first became aware of the horses, and subsequently to the island that has given the name to the horses: Assateague Island. And now I was returning to this childhood experience once again.

Assateague Island is a long narrow island running north to south along the Maryland and Virginia coastline. On its eastern side is the Atlantic Ocean, and on its western side is Chincoteague Bay. In its Maryland jurisdiction the island is under the control of the National Park Service. As it crosses into Virginia’s control it becomes known as Chincoteague Island National Wildlife Refuge, and is under the control of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

The island is known primarily for the Wild Horses that have populated the island since the 17th century. There is debate about the origins of the horses on the island. Some believe that the horses came ashore when a ship wrecked off shore. The most common belief is that the horses were brought to the island from the mainland so that owners could avoid fencing laws, and taxation on livestock. When the residents eventually left the island the horses were abandoned, and have thrived ever since.

The natural conditions of life on the island are harsh; abundant with mosquitos, hot humid summers, and bitter cold winters with winds blowing in from the ocean. Yet these horses have adapted well. On the Bay side of the island it is predominantly marsh land, which provides food, as well as safe refuge from tourists.

It was mid-afternoon, in the month of February when I drove onto the island for the first time since my pre-teen years. Desolation is the only way to describe what I encountered. There were no tourists, no park rangers, and no horses. The sun was shining which added a bit of warmth to the cold winds blowing in from the Atlantic. I came across a pathway that led into a forested area, so I followed it. Eventually it opened out into a vista of the marshland on the Bay side of the island. Off in the distance - several hundred yards, I saw a small band of horses grazing. I attempted to get closer but the water in the marshland was cold, and getting progressively deeper as I continued.

I returned along the forested pathway back to the parking area where I began this excursion. From there I explored a hiking trail that navigated over the sandy landscape of scrub, and other small plants striving for survival in this environment. I found a beauty in this landscape, and a stillness that was soothing. Periodically I would stop to make a photograph of the vegetation. I was completely intrigued by its tenacity to survive. There was a determination that seemed so metaphoric for life itself.

Then the weather shifted. Heavy gray clouds covered the blueness of the sky, and shielded the warmth of the sun’s light from my body. The winds also intensified. I followed another pathway that took me to the beach along the Atlantic side of the island. The beach was wide and stretched into the distance for as far as the eye could see. The waves were rough, and crashing hard as they reached the shoreline. There was such a wildness to what I was experiencing. The sounds. The smells. And the frigid cold wind, mixed with the spray that filled the air, seemed to permeate the very marrow of my bones. I was immersed in a primal scene that had played out thousands of times over millennia. I was engulfed within the authenticity of nature itself, and I was but a small part of it all. I was insignificant, and that excited me. For in that was the feeling of such connectedness to everything.

An hour or so later, as I was driving out, I passed through the main parking lot. There I came across a small band of horses scavenging for food. They had come to equate this area with being a food source created by tourists. There was a sadness that I felt in seeing this, as if it somehow stripped away some of the dignity of these magnificent creatures.

The following morning I returned to the island, arriving just as the sun was breaking dawn. The winds had ceased from the day before and now there was a calmness - and a newness to the day, which is what I love so much about being engaged with the sunrise. I turned onto the road that leads into the park, passed the abandoned entry gate that was now permanently in the open, upright position. As I drove along the two-lane asphalt road that twisted with gentle curves, I noticed through a narrow break in the heavy vegetation growing along the edge of the road, a chestnut-colored horse grazing in the marsh land on the opposite side. I drove another twenty yards or so until I found a place to effectively turn around, then slowly made my way back. Fortunately there was a wide grassy area for me to pull into, keeping my Expedition well off the road. The area was also far enough away from this narrow gap, on the opposite side of the road, that no one would be alerted if they passed by.

Making sure that no other vehicles were approaching, I quickly made my way to the gap then, stepping through - as if entering another world through a magic portal, the vista opened up to the vast expanse of the marshland, and… eight wild horses grazing!

The low angle of the early morning light, un-obscured by clouds, illuminated the scene with a warm glow. My feet were now deep in the water of the marsh, leveling off about midway up my shinbone. And it was cold. Yet, in looking back I don’t remember it being uncomfortable in any way. I was in heaven!

Unlike the horses being hundreds of yards away, as they were the day before, the horses were now so close that several of them brushed against me as they passed. In fact, their closeness was at times problematic because they were too close to photograph, even with a wide angle lens. But it didn’t matter. This was no longer about making a photograph. It was about experiencing what I was now witness to.

For nearly an hour I remained in this paradise. Observing. Engaging. And yes, photographing. Then I spotted a vehicle pass by through the very gap that I entered through. I had no way of knowing if they saw me, or the horses, so I said goodbye to the horses, and offered my thanks for such an experience, then quickly made my way back to the gap. I paused, listening for the sound of an idling engine, but heard nothing. I eased through the gap, paused to see if any vehicles were in sight. When all seemed clear I emerged from the gap, then with as much quickness as possible I made my way back to the Expedition, climbed in, started the engine and drove off.

As I exited the park I pulled over once again. I needed to pause - to reflect for a moment about what I had just experienced. I even ‘chimped’ a few of the image files on the camera’s viewing screen, to make sure it was not all just a dream.  It wasn’t.. Yet in ways, it was.