View of Sable Island out the window of our Britten Norman Islander as we head toward the makeshift landing strip on the beach.
They say the third time is the charm. In this case, it was true. After two previous attempts, I finally made it to Sable Island to photograph its famous wild horses.
Sable Island is a Canadian National Park located about 125 miles southeast of Halifax, Nova Scotia. A narrow, crescent-shaped sandbar, the island stretches approximately 26 miles and is only three-quarters of a mile wide at its widest point. Its highest elevation is barely 100 feet above sea level. Its location, combined with frequent fog and sudden powerful storms—including hurricanes—has resulted in more than 350 recorded shipwrecks. Often called the "Graveyard of the Atlantic," Sable sits astride the great-circle shipping route between North America's east coast and Europe.
The legend is that the horses arrived on Sable Island as survivors of shipwrecks. The truth is less dramatic, though no less interesting. They are descendants of horses left behind during failed attempts to colonize and farm the Island.
My fascination with Sable Island began sometime around 2018.
My wife, Carol, and I were visiting New York City and had spent the morning at the Whitney Museum in its then-new location. Afterwards, we walked the High Line, the elevated park created from a former railroad line. We decided to make the walk more interesting by taking every opportunity to descend to street level and explore whatever neighborhood happened to be below.
One of those detours led us to the gallery of photographer Roberto Dutesco. The gallery walls were filled with larger-than-life photographs of the wild horses of Sable Island. Having recently discovered and photographed the wild mustangs of Utah's West Desert, I was immediately captivated.
Naturally, I started looking into how I might visit the island myself.
Eventually, I found a cruise itinerary that circumnavigated the Canadian Maritimes and included an overnight stop offshore at Sable Island. As an added bonus, the featured guest aboard the cruise was to be author Margaret Atwood, whose novel The Handmaid's Tale had become especially relevant in contemporary culture. Horses and one of Canada's most celebrated authors—what could be better?
We booked the trip.
As you've probably guessed from the timeline, the year was 2020.
COVID.
Trip cancelled.
The cruise fare was refunded. I wish I could say the same for the Westjet airline tickets.
So Sable Island remained on the bucket list.
Fast forward to 2025. Carol and I spent two weeks exploring Nova Scotia after visiting Acadia National Park. While I photographed landscapes and coastal scenery, Carol pursued genealogy research into her Acadian roots. During our stay in Halifax, I booked a flight to Sable Island.
The weather had other ideas.
That trip was cancelled as well.
At that point, I was determined. So, at the risk of another airline ticket and a couple of nights in an airport hotel, I booked yet another trip. This time the weather cooperated, and I finally found myself boarding a small aircraft bound for the island.
Because of weight restrictions, I had to travel light. I narrowed my kit to a Nikon Z8, a 24–70mm lens, and my 180–600mm. Once I stepped onto the island, I never changed lenses. The wind was constant, and fine sand seemed to be suspended in the air. For wider scenes, I often relied on my phone. For everything else, the telephoto stayed mounted on the camera.
In hindsight, I was glad I hadn't brought more equipment. Walking in deep sand is work, and sand gets everywhere. In fact, the name "Sable" comes from the French word for sand.
The experience itself was fascinating.
Parks Canada staff led an informative 90-minute orientation tour, after which we were free to explore on our own. Naturally, I went looking for horses.
We had encountered a few small bands during the tour, but I was hoping for something more substantial. There are more than 400 horses on the island, divided into several family groups, yet finding them among the endless dunes proved surprisingly difficult.
Eventually, I came across a band of about sixteen horses.
They looked quite different from the mustangs I photograph in Utah. Sable Island horses generally occur in shades of bay, chestnut, and black. Unlike many western herds, there are no paints, pintos, or gray horses roaming these dunes.
I spent a long time watching the group as they lingered around a freshwater pond. Gradually, the band began to break apart into smaller family groups and drift away into the dunes. Within minutes, horses that had seemed impossible to miss simply disappeared into the landscape.
It was easy to understand why locating them can be such a challenge.
I wish I could have stayed longer. I would have loved another day—or even just a few more hours of late-afternoon light. But I left satisfied.
After seven years, two failed attempts, and more than a little persistence, I had finally scratched a long-standing photographic itch.
And as I reviewed my images on the flight back to Halifax, I found myself with an even greater appreciation for the work of Roberto Dutesco, whose photographs had started me down this path in the first place.
