Hiking through the Grayson Highlands is a complete unique experience that is unparalleled by any other hike I have ever done in my life. “Why,” you may ask? Two words: wild ponies. Yes you read that correctly. Wild ponies roam the grounds of this hidden gem, and although it’s becoming more and more popular each year Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia is surprisingly not very well known outside of the south.

My discovery of the Grayson Highlands came from a memoir I was reading about thru hiking the Appalachian Trail. It only mentioned the Grayson Highlands ponies briefly, but that little nugget was enough for me to want to learn more about the area. After some research, I realized that I had already planned on hiking Mt. Rogers, the highest mountain in Virginia, so it was a quick and easy change of plans to approach the mountain from the southern side starting in the park rather than the northern approach.

Upon entering Grayson Highlands State Park, I paid their $7.00 fee and got to the parking lot around eight in the morning. To my surprise my car was the only one in the lot. I was ecstatic about the idea of a quiet hike in solitude so that I could focus on the task at hand. This was slated to be our longest hike so far, my hiking guide predicting it to be 10.5 miles round trip. I was a little nervous about Lucy because her ability to breathe is markedly diminished in the warm, humid weather of the south. This is part of the reason why we hit the trail early, hopefully getting much of the ascent out of the way before the hot afternoon sun warmed everything up.

We started on Rhododendron Trail winding our way up to the top of the park where the horses usually reside. The dirt path was very gentle, a theme thus far for our hikes on the trip, and the views were pretty great from the beginning. We could see rolling pastures in the distance with rocky outcroppings towering above us reaching to the sky. It was a bit cloudy this morning, but I had faith that the impending heat would burn them off a little later in the day.

When we got up to the top meadow that’s when we saw the small heard of feral horses grazing in the northernmost pasture. After whining at the horses at camp all night, I was worried about Lucy’s demeanor with the wild livestock. She’s been around horses before but gets riled up pretty quickly, her whining evolving into a bark when they move closer. I had seen signs warning about the ponies biting and kicking, so we kept a bit of distance while watching them eat.

It was immediately apparent that they weren’t domesticated, with their wild fur unbrushed and free. Their long manes were tangled but still luxurious, like the tall blonde women in swimwear ads with their carefree beachy waves looking like they’ve just climbed off their surfboards. Their hair was so long it touched the ground as they grazed, slightly obscuring their vision until a quick shake moved it to the side.

There were seven of them about fifty feet away from us when two chubby looking horses charged in our direction. Lucy had been sitting and holding back all of her nervous energy with much encouragement from me, but when the pranced towards us she started to lose it whining and getting up to pace. I’ve always been intimidated by horses, so I think my nervous energy set her off. I tried to back us up slowly but there wasn’t enough time for me to even start to get close enough to the gate on the edge of the park to scurry behind it. Lucy began to writhe on the leash next to me as the horses picked up speed letting out four high pitched barks, and I could feel exactly what she was experiencing inside her large block head. A lack of control over these wild majestic beasts. They stopped abruptly about an arms-length or two away investigating our scent in the cool morning breeze.

I held out my hand to the brown pony closest to me, with my empty palm facing the sky, and she gently nudged around before realizing I didn’t have any food and retreating. I turned quickly to Lucy to console her as the brown pony went to a nearby sign to scratch her massive buttocks. I realized then that these two very fat ponies probably got to be that way by tourists coming in and feeding them, thus why they charged us. People were synonymous with food to them, but when they realized we didn’t have what they wanted they quickly backed off.

After passing through the gate marking the boundary between Grayson Highlands State Park and Jefferson National Forest I assumed that would be the end of our wild pony experience. When we reached the second large meadow with panoramic views of the Blue Hill Mountains framing another larger herd of feral ponies grazing.

Lucy and I watched as a mare and her foal pranced through the grass together and then as the foal started to suckle. Suddenly two larger male horses faced off next to the trail. They whinnied and grunted throwing their heads back, eyes wild with testosterone as they pawed at one another balancing on only their hind legs. Their teased manes rippled in slow motion as they faced off in what seemed to be an epic battle of the steeds. And as suddenly as it started, it stopped as they trotted off in different directions finding something delicious to munch on.

I was in awe sitting in that pasture watching these wild beauties living off the land. I felt a deep connection with them, my unbrushed hair straying wildly from my face. I wanted to be more like them, unafraid of the world, fierce when necessary and able to walk away when the time was right. Constantly eating without worrying about their figures. Just kidding. But really. I felt like this trip was turning me into a feral pony, wild and carefree. Doing exactly what was necessary to survive and enjoying it. Don’t get me wrong I was never a horse girl. I haven’t ridden a horse since I was five at the town fair. I’m terrified of horses and I don’t actually want to get more involved in the whole horse life. I want to live with the vibes that these horses live with. I probably sound crazy, but it was a really powerful experience observing those horses in their feral habitat. If you’ve seen them you probably understand.

After watching the ponies play for a while, Lucy and I remembered that we had an objective we wanted to reach for the day. Mt. Rogers, the tallest mountain in Virginia, was awaiting us. We reluctantly got up and continued hiking along the gently graded AT until we reached the summit spur. We passed many thru hikers and other backpackers making camp along the beautiful ridges. I could imagine how beautiful waking up to the views of the layered blue mountains would be. It was a gentle walk over easy dirt padded terrain with a few rocks sprinkled in.

On the summit spur we climbed slowly into an enchanted coniferous forest. The trees were caked in luscious moss and everything was so green. It was a bit foggy giving the mountain a mysterious feeling. At one point I heard crashing noises coming from the trees around us. Although it was probably just a squirrel, it startled me a bit so I started singing loudly just in case there was a bear hiding in the brush. We had seen many signs warning about bear activity in the area and the occasional bear box for backpackers to store food, so it wasn’t an unreasonable fear.

When we reached the summit it kind of snuck up on us. There was no marker or view, just a large rock in the middle of the trail. We continued to follow a narrow footpath until it petered out and when I checked my GPS it showed that we were at the summit. There was one other hiker taking a break on the boulder, so we quickly tagged it and retreated to a sunny view we had come across earlier for our own snack.

On the descent we followed the same path that we had taken up to the horse meadow and passed a few day hikers along the way. At the meadow, we saw a towering rocky face we had walked around next to on the ascent, and after a quick map check I decided that we would veer off our original path to Wilburn Ridge Trail to ascend it. This trail was narrow and steep with large granite boulders piled along the trail. Lucy and I took it slowly, scrambling up carefully. It reminded me of some of the steep rocky trails in the White Mountains. Luckily Lucy had experience climbing more technical trails like these in New Hampshire so I knew she could maneuver up the steep ascent. It was challenging but fun and the view was extremely rewarding at the summit of Wilburn Ridge.

I felt like I was on top of the world looking down over the meadows and mountains in the distance. We stayed there for what felt like hours, taking in the views and sharing some snacks. We had the rocky summit to ourselves, and the silence was so serene. Luckily, we got this quiet time before descending into the busy Grayson Highlands State Park with many people coming to see the wild horses.

This hike was absolutely amazing. I can’t even explain how it felt to see the wild horses living out in the wilderness. They were inspiring with their carefree untamed existence. I had never seen anything like it before and I felt really connected to them. It’s hard to put into words their grace and beauty, so I highly recommend going to see them yourself if you ever have the chance!