Three decades in Yosemite National Park have taught this horsewoman to accept people, mules and wilderness at more than face value.
Sheridan King’s life has been a two-act play, divided in the middle by 1983, the year she took a summer job leading trail rides in Yosemite National Park. Until then, King had traveled the United States working a variety of jobs — school counselor, cutting horse competitor, South Texas ranch hand — to sustain her horse habit. But the day she saddled a mule and rode down Yosemite’s High Sierra Loop trail, the curtain opened on her new life’s passion. King helped break the gender barrier by becoming only the second woman in Yosemite history to hire on as a full-time mule packer. Today, she is an inspiration to a new generation of female packers who join her in crisscrossing the Sierra Nevada Mountains at the lead of a mule string.
Yosemite National Park is my whole world. I know it so well I can tell you where to ride if you want to see azaleas blooming in the spring. Where the cow parsnip blooms in June. That deer will rut in Smokey Jack Meadow. The park still surprises me, too. Last summer was dry, and whole meadows turned blue with alpine gentian flowers.
When you love a place this much, you stick around. Before you know it, you’re the oldest person around. Now I’m thought of as part of Yosemite. I consider it a blessing to be associated with one of the most beautiful placed on the planet.
My first pack trip was a six-day trip up the Merced River. I didn’t know how to pack. A cowboy loaded my mules at the corral, handed me a map and sent me down the trail. A whiteout snowstorm hit, obliterating the trail. My horse felt his way along in the snow. When he bumped into a tree, we turned and kept going. That’s one way to learn.
In the 1980s, packing was wild and rowdy. In some ways, it was a wonderful era to work. The rules were loosey-goosey. The outfitter told the Park Service what to do, like the tail wagging the dog. Now it’s reversed, and the Park Service has total control over when we start packing, how we do it, and where we go. It’s safer, at least.
When affirmative action came around, more women packers were hired, and I believe it’s changed the industry for the better. Back when I started, cowboys thought it was cool to abuse the stock. They’d come back from a trip to tell war stories about a mule that bucked their load or one that fell over a waterfall. Women made it known that wasn’t cool, and those cowboys became the outsiders.
“Anything can happen on the trail, and learning to accept that about life in general was a breakthrough for me.”
The best part of packing is the solo time on the trail — just you and a mule string, walking in cadence down the trail. It’s almost a spiritual feeling, like being one with the animals. I feel like there’s no distance between me and the universe, completely unaware of myself or my ego. Athletes call it “being in the zone.”
Riding over a mountain pass in a lightning storm, you don’t have a choice to turn around. You just ride. It’s a more exhilarating feeling than you can get riding on a perfect, sunny day.
Mules are so full of personality; they add a Technicolor experience to the backcountry. You wake up in the morning, and there’s a mule sticking her head in the tent, licking your face.
Mule breeding has changed. It used to be that mostly old, nasty broodmares were crossed to whatever wrinkled old Jack. Nobody worried about what came out. Now they use beautiful Mammoth Jacks that stand 15 hands and have good dispositions. They breed them to refined broodmares to create quality mules.
Mules are more self-preserving than horses — which means they also take care of their riders. A horse would run of a cliff if he got scared, but a mule would never lose his senses enough to do that. Insurance companies noticed we had fewer accidents with mules and told us to switch our saddle horses over.
Doc Moyle set up a camp in the 1930s and packed in Ansel Adams and Georgia O’Keffe. They made some famous paintings and photographs there. The camp stood as of a few years ago, but the Park Service told the government packers to go in there and take the camp down. I can’t understand why they did that. It was a piece of history.
Yosemite used to rent burros to the public. We’d load the burro, teach them a box hitch, and off they’d go. An hour later, the burro would come running home. The person would come chasing it down, mad as can be, and we’d hide in the barn so they couldn’t yell at us.
A person’s defenses come down in the backcountry, and their heart opens up. You can learn about their passions, struggles and loves. It makes you realize that we’re not that different.
The park’s not Disneyland; things can happen. But the dangers are enveloped by the raw beauty of the land. Listen to a waterfall and you’ll hear the power of nature. People and animals die in the cities, too. I find death easier to accept in the wild.
This article was originally published in the February 2013 issue of Western Horseman.
What an excellent article, Sheridan! There is nothing more beautiful than riding in the back country on a good mule, and you’ve given readers a glimpse of “your world.” How incredibly fortunate some of us have been to experience nature at its best, and how nice that you were able to share your experiences.
I rode with Sheridan King on several occasion’s what an adventure it was going through thunder and lightning storms novice riders throwing their reins over the mules heads in the middle of a stream and Sheridan quietly getting off and putting things back together I went back every time I could to share the love of Yosemite valley and companionship of Sheridan King❤️
Sheridan, It was one of the very best of times to ride the High Sierra Camps with you and Ken Kerr, Jr,. I still have all my pictures and memories are still bright and clear. Love you!
I was the cook at May lake in 1999. Sheridan was my favorite “Cowboy” as Nic Fiore would them. She is a wonder. So good with mules and so much fun to talk to.