Ponies complete their 91st annual island swim
Thousands brave heat, mosquitoes for event
CHINCOTEAGUE, VA. — A morning thunderstorm stayed away, but a blanket of suffocating heat did not Wednesday at the 91st annual Chincoteague Pony Swim on this island off the coast of Virginia.
Temperatures hit the high 80s, but the heat index was 104 by 10:17 a.m., when about 200 of the famous ponies began their eighth-of-a-mile journey across the channel that separates Assateague Island, where they live in the wild most of the year, and Chincoteague, where many were to be sold at auction today.
But the conditions didn’t seem to bother Bill Willis, who stood knee-deep in the wet muck beneath a dock where the horses would come ashore in just a few minutes.
It was his third straight “pony penning,” the 48-year-old NewCastle, Del., man said, and he was savoring the moment.
“There’s something magical about seeing those horses come out of the water,” he said. “And this is the perfect spot. The deeper I sink, the cooler I get.”
Indeed, very little seemed to dampen the enthusiasm of the tens of thousands who flocked to the island to watch the swim, the centerpiece of a multiday festival, an annual boon to the local economy and the islands’ signature event.
Not the mosquitoes, which residents said were biting harder than they had in years. Not the thick mud that seemed to claim more than its usual share of flip-flops and sneakers.
Not even heat that left many longtimers gasping, their clothes soaked with sweat long before noon.
“It’s worse than I remember feeling it in years, but then I am getting a little older,” said Billy Beebe, a 62-year-old retiree who has a particularly compelling local pedigree.
Beebe’s grandparents, Clarence and Ida V. Beebe, were the heads of the horseloving family depicted in Marguerite Henry’s 1947 children’s novel “Misty of Chincoteague” — the book that helped popularize the pony swim.
The Beebes’ grandchildren, Paul and Maureen, were the models for the boy and girl who saved their money and bought and raised Misty.
Billy — cousin to the real-life Paul and Maureen — was raised on Beebe Ranch, the formerly sprawling spread where the Volunteer wranglers known as Saltwater Cowboys try to lead the wild ponies down Main Street on Chincoteague Island. real Misty lived out her final years. He remembers the team of moviemakers who came to the island from Hollywood to make “Misty,” the film version of the book, which came out in 1961.
Then 6, he played Tommy, a boy in the story who wins a pony in a raffle on the carnival grounds.
“My life is so intertwined with the story of Misty and Pony Penning Day, I don’t know what it would be like without them,” he said.
Volunteer wranglers known as Saltwater Cowboys round up the herd of about 200 ponies from protected federal land on Assateague, guide them into a corral on the southern part of the island, then affectionately but firmly drive them across the channel on the Wednesday before the last Thursday in July.
The wranglers wait until “slack tide” — the half-hour span when the current is weakest — to commence the swim. It usually lasts less than five minutes.
The day after the crossing, thousands of bidders flock to the carnival fairgrounds on Chincoteague and buy all the foals — usually 50 to 60 of them.
Last year, the sale of 61 ponies netted $169,576, with an average price per pony of nearly $2,780. Both dollar figures were records.
Dennis and Cindy Simoes drove more than10 hours from Covington, Ga., to share the week’s festivities with their ponyloving granddaughter, 6-year-old Aniston Mahaffey. It was their first pony penning.
Dennis, a retired firefighter who works as an engine mechanic, was as impressed with the fundraising tradition as he was with the locals’ hospitality.
“Fire equipment is expensive,” he said. “A pumper can go for $500,000, easily, and that’s with no extras.”
Aniston, who had a riding lesson at the Chincoteague Pony Centre, was much more interested in the horses. “I won a pink ribbon,” she said. The three also watched a screening of “Misty” at the Island Theatre in town — festival planners show it free of charge daily — and planned to attend the fire company carnival that is open every night through Friday.
Duane Cooper of New Windsor and his daughter Breana, 7, had staked out a place in the water, where they waited, hip-deep, for the ponies’ arrival.
Like many girls here, Breana had her fingers crossed for a new pony this week.
“My horse Polly needs a friend,” she said. Her dad made a don’t-look-at-me face.
In the shade of his dock, Willis had not moved, save for the few extra inches he had sunk into the mud.
The conditions seemed to strike him as just right. A smile creased his sun-reddened face. “That was awesome,” he said. “Another perfect year.”