Hitting the Desert Trail : Recreation: Desert outings allow would-be cowboys and cowgirls to experience the wilderness, and give trail-riding clubs a chance to raise funds.

It’s 6:15 on a chilly morning in the desert. The smell of coffee brewing and sausage cooking on an open grill wafts through the camp as the horses chomp on a breakfast of hay and grain. The rising sun exaggerates the desert’s colorful face, turning rocks red and the hills orange, creating a multitoned earth.

Yup, this is the life: snake holes, pricker bushes and the smell of fly spray. Camp Med for the Wild Bills and Calamity Janes at heart. And you don’t have to be familiar with the desert or the mountains to experience it. That’s what trail guides and trail riding clubs are for.

This particularly isolated campsite belongs to the Happy Hoofers. The Blythe, Calif.-based equestrian group sponsors a three-day trail ride each year to raise funds for its rodeo performances.

The campsite is on a private ranch just over the Arizona border in the high desert. Though the ranch is only about 240 acres, the surrounding government land--taking in the Bill Williams River and Buckskin Mountains--is accessible to horses and riders and offers seemingly infinite views of red-rock mountains and wide-open desert.

“You can see things you can’t see from a car,” trail guide Ralph Goleman says. “There’s no civilization.”

Goleman and his wife, Billie, of Blythe were hired to lead one ride each day for the Hoofers. Their group takes a four-hour excursion across the Bill Williams River (in an area where water is scarce and neighboring towns have long battled for the rights to the river) up into the Buckskin Mountains, where mountain lions and bobcats share the wilderness with the monarch butterfly.

The rules of the trail are simple: Stay behind the trail boss; faster horses to the front, and no running (the terrain is the challenge, not the speed).

It’s important because of the rugged terrain, says Billie Goleman, who rides “drag” behind the group, to “make sure you don’t get yourself in a position where you get hurt or get your horse hurt.”

While the riders are a mix of veterans and novices, most of the horses seem to take the adventure in stride--at least until the first obstacle.

Just 15 minutes into the ride, the narrow Bill Williams River literally separates the true trail horses from nags that are strictly show-ring material. After most of the horses stomp ungracefully, though confidently, through the shallow water, one horse refuses to take the plunge, reacting as though he’s been asked to jump Niagara Falls.

After numerous tries and as many suggestions on how to coax the animal, the horse is finally led across by a halter, trotting on his way.

Following trails forged by wild burros which make their way from the mountain grazing grounds to the river, the riders navigate narrow ledges on the steep slopes of the canyons, the ground sometimes crumbling under the horses’ hoofs. So the guides don’t get lost, Goleman says a trail boss “picks certain landmarks and keeps them in view so you know where you are.”

But on this ride, rarely does there seem to be a “trail” visible. The horses trudge along nevertheless, through river beds thick with dust, over the winding burro paths through the rocky canyon.

Signs of life along the trail are limited to the inevitable vultures circling, though snake holes and feathers and other signs of wildlife are everywhere. The only sign of humans, however, is the skeleton of an abandoned mine shaft clutching the side of the canyon.

“You never litter--whatever you take in, you pack it in the saddlebag and bring out,” says Ruth Harness, a veteran trail rider. “We all like to see a clean desert, so we want to keep it that way.”

Whether riding in the desert or mountains, it’s a challenge--and a historical experience. Riding the trails with nothing more than a horse and the supplies that will fit in a saddlebag, riders get a feel for the Wild West that pioneers confronted a century or more ago. But part of the thrill of trail riding is discovering parts of that era that still exist.

“People who ride trails are out to enjoy the unblemished scenery, the country and the companionship of animals,” Ralph Goleman says. “It’s a challenge to find different areas like this to ride.”

At the halfway point, the group stops for lunch in a canyon lined by shade trees. The canyon floor is covered with rocks which settled as the rushing waters disappeared decades ago. The riders tie their mounts to trees, but veteran trail horses will stay put with nothing more than a rein secured under a rock the size of a basketball. After settling in the shade with their lunches, the riders trade stories of the trail.

Once a month, Bonnie Ghianni of Alpine, a member of San Diego’s Las Damas riding club, makes a six-hour drive to Wickenburg, Ariz., for the monthly ride sponsored by the Phoenix Las Damas.

“I go over on Wednesday, ride Thursday and go home on Friday,” she says. “And when we’re not riding, we shop.”

Rather than haul her horse and trailer along for a one-day ride, Ghianni rents a horse from a Wickenburg stable. It costs about $35, “and that includes tack and bringing the horse out to wherever the ride is.” There’s no charge for the ride itself, just for lunch.

Why drive all the way to Wickenburg to ride?

“Just to see everybody,” Ghianni says. “After you start going on the weeklong rides, you meet so many new friends. . . . It’s more than getting out on a horse, it’s the camaraderie.”

Harness, 69, has been trail riding for 38 years. A dedicated horsewoman, she is also a member of Las Damas and of the Desert Saddle Bags, a women’s group in Phoenix, and Saddle Mountain Riders, a couples’ group she belongs to with her husband, Leslie.

What keeps her back in the saddle is her love of the animals and the relaxation she finds in the great outdoors.

“The minute I load my horse and drive out of the driveway, I forget about work,” says Harness, who owns a real-estate business.

“We’re all drawn here by a common bond--the horse,” Harness says. “You have this in common with other people and you talk the language. You rarely talk business--you don’t even think of business.”

Though the rides are relaxing, not all are uneventful.

Harness recalls a run-in with a swarm of wasps. The lead riders had stirred them up, she says, and by the time the other riders came through, the wasps were out for revenge.

“If a horsefly or something gets after the horse, their instinct is to run and buck and try to get away--we had about five of us on bucking horses.

“I still have a phobia about wasps.”

By the time lunch ends, the desert sun is beating down. A tan is not an objective for trail riders, so veteran riders wear long-sleeved shirts, long pants and hats to guard not only against the sun, but also wayward branches and nature’s pests.

Heading for home, the riders clomp through a dried riverbed, near scattered, sun-bleached animal bones and decaying branches and ragged trees--it’s good to know the camp is just around the next hill.

But trail rides aren’t necessarily all beans, dust and discomfort. In fact, the Happy Hoofers serve pancakes, eggs, sausage, hot biscuits and fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast; for dinner, riders feast on steak and lobster, complete with salad bar. (There’s more than one use for a horse trough.) Certainly not the kind of “vittles” one might expect in a chuck wagon out on the trail.

Dehydration isn’t a problem either, even as the temperature crawls toward 100 degrees. A beverage truck parked next to the food tent is the first sign of camp on the return trip from the trail.

“It takes lots of preplanning,” says Geneil Wilson, head Hoofer. “We brought out the equipment (including a custom-built trailer--two-thirds kitchen, one-third shower room), the tent and the port-a-potties a week ahead.”

Other Hoofers say Wilson’s experience as a campground owner is the reason they are well-prepared trail-ride hosts--although, Wilson chuckles, “I left the butter at home once . . . the riders were vicious.”

The supplies for the Hoofers’ three-day ride include 60 pounds of potatoes, 100 pounds of steak, 90 pounds of lobster, 140 pounds of turkey (for a Thanksgiving-themed dinner) and 20 gallons of milk--not to mention more than 12,000 pounds of hay.

Equestrian Trails Inc. has 66 groups, called “corrals,” in California. Created in 1944, the nonprofit organization says it is “dedicated to the acquisition and preservation of trails, good horsemanship and equine legislation.”

Corral 22, based in San Fernando Valley, hosts two rides a month--a day ride and a weekend ride.

“There’s usually no charge, unless we stay overnight or provide food,” says Gwen Allen, Corral 22 president.

Destinations range from Griffith Park (where horse and equipment rentals are available) to Yosemite National Park. Most riders have their own horses and equipment. Coming up in November, Equestrian Trails hosts its annual five-and-a-half-day ride through Death Valley. For information, call Allen at (818) 367-1401. For information on other corrals, call the ETI office in Sylmar, (818) 362-6819.

Membership in ETI is $25 per year, $35 for a family. Most individual rides are free (unless catered). The Death Valley ride is $280, but this includes all food for riders and their horses, Allen says, in addition to transportation of equipment.

The Norco Mounted Posse will lead a weeklong ride (open to the public) across the Mojave Desert the first week in April. The group, with assistance from the Bureau of Land Management, follows the path of old mail runs. Riders will cover 20-25 miles a day and camp at historical points along the way. Call trail boss Bob Wright at (714) 734-5566. Cost of $275-$300 includes food for rider and horse, and transportation of camping gear.