What It’s Like at the Chincoteague Pony Swim: an Insider’s View

Have you ever loved a story from a book so much you wanted to live out the adventure?

I always longed to see the wild Chincoteague Pony swim in person, and a few years ago, I had the opportunity! Here’s what it was like …

Murky clouds gave way to the sun, as a mass of cowboys on horseback and wet, wild ponies streamed toward me. Shouts of “Hey! Hey! Hey!” from the riders rang out as legions of legs sloshed through the Chincoteague Channel, off the coast of Virginia.

The Saltwater Cowboys, the riders on horseback, led the procession on a course that would take them just yards in front of my prime viewing spot—a rented tomato-red kayak. Stallions and mares with flowing manes and adorable, lanky foals followed them.

This was like having a front-row seat to the Kentucky Derby, but instead of awaiting the thunder of racehorses crossing the finish line, I awaited a wild pony swim, atop the water in the kayak.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of other Chincoteague Pony fans of all ages were next to me and behind me in pontoon boats, fishing boats, canoes and rowboats. I even saw one person on a standup paddle board.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as watercraft “neighbors” struck up conversations. We had all gathered to watch the yearly crossing of around two hundred wild ponies. I was there on pony lookout because of my favorite childhood book, Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry. 

When I was ten, I read Misty and fell in love with a young filly who swam with her herd from Assateague Island to nearby Chincoteague Island. Actually, Misty started the swim, but was so little, a whirlpool sucked her under the water. A boy named Paul Beebe, who was watching from a nearby boat, dove into the waves and swam alongside the foal, keeping her head afloat. Together they made it safely to the other side.

Paul and his sister Maureen had saved all their money and worked extra chores in order to buy this pony and her mom, the Phantom. Now I was there in person, decades later, to witness this real-life event I had read about repeatedly when I was a girl. My trip to Chincoteague Island, and this moment in the kayak, was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

The cowboys’ horses and ponies coursed through the water, walking, walking, walking. A cluster of eager ponies, heads high, burst into a few strides of trot. Salt water sprayed.

“That one looks like Misty over there!” I said to myself, as a beautiful golden pony passed in front of me with a large white marking on its left side that resembled the shape of a map of the United States. The herd with the cowboys leading the way kept trudging through the channel.

For a second I thought, Maybe this isn’t really a swim, but just a walk through deep water, but a pony swim sounds more romantic for tourists. Was it possible Misty of Chincoteague had overly dramatized this pony crossing? Disappointment loomed.

Suddenly, the lead cowboy’s horse plunged chest-deep into the channel. Soon after, all the cowboys’ horses dipped below the surface. Only their ears and noses peeked above the surf. My heart raced, and my kayak swayed.

Behind the Saltwater Cowboys, clusters of wild ponies began swimming too. I could only see the tops of their heads as they surged through the surf. “Yay, ponies!” I burst out. I videoed the splashing and paddling on my iPhone. The sun was so bright, I couldn’t really tell what I was capturing. I was torn between watching the ponies swim in real time or preserving it to watch for months, maybe years, to come.

A brown and white foal rested its chin on its mother’s rump, catching a ride.

The ponies and cowboys grew smaller as they churned past. I craned my head left and watched them clamber up the shore and drop their heads to graze on the bright green marsh grasses. Hordes of fans snapped photos and pointed as the beautiful, wet herd munched and milled about.

Even though it lasted only a few minutes, the wild, swimming ponies were real, and their swim was better than how I imagined it from reading Misty. I couldn’t wait to tell all my friends about the Chincoteague Ponies. The scene I witnessed was identical to the horse story from my childhood—the book whose words and pictures had seared into my heart, a story I will never forget.

Continue the story … snag your own copy of Marguerite, Misty and Me, today!

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