The Rescue of Belle and Sundance: A Miracle on Mount Renshaw, was a story I knew had a happy ending, but it didn’t stop me from turning page after page.

I’m a slow reader, it usually takes me months – sometimes years – to finish a book. It’s an embarrassing admission since as a journalist I write for a living. I do however read the news constantly, and when I picked up my copy of Birgit Stutz’s book I remembered Christmas 2008, when this story broke. Perhaps it’s because I prefer true stories with factual evidence to fiction writing. The tale of Belle and Sundance fell within that exact niche. 

Recorded with incredible detail, Stutz’s narrative starts with the horses on the mountain already, waiting for the rescue they didn’t know was coming. It turns to the saga that led to the horses being abandoned by their owner, Frank Mackay, a lawyer from Edmonton who was later charged for the animals’ abandonment. The lawyer had taken his horses into the backcountry unequipped for the challenge. When they became entangled in mud in a bog, the horses quit for their owner. They were then left to fend for themselves, with a few ill-fated attempts to rescue them by Mackay. 

The story continues with the firestorm of calls for help that went out in the valley. It details what rippled through the Robson Valley and attracted rescuers – some of whom had no interest in horses, but still wanted to help.

Stutz’s description puts you right on the mountain. Even without the pictures dotting throughout the book, I formed an image in my head of the snowy prison the horses were stuck in for months. Her honest writing tells of the horses’ suffering, and without seeing them for myself I was reminded of the smaller-scale horse rescues I took part in as a child. My childhood friend and I had an almost bloodhound-like attraction to neglected horses, and our fathers would cringe when we found a new one, knowing they would have to find a way to bring it home and take care of it. There is nothing more motivating than suffering seen in an animal’s eyes, and it seems the Renshaw rescuers felt that way too.

Stutz takes from her skill as a journalist, but manages to propel the reader right into the centre of the story. One thing about journalistic writing, specific describing details are sometimes left out for straight factual evidence. While I haven’t any idea if this was a challenge for Stutz, I imagine it was a refreshing story to write – one that was obviously meticulously researched and talked about over coffee around fireplaces in the valley with the rescuers. 

The end breaks things down and brings out the real emotion of what the rescuers experienced while on the Renshaw, and while it can touch on sugary at times, it answers the question of what a community is. This is a lesson that hopefully the Robson Valley region, and all of Canada perhaps, can remember as the years go forward, and one that hopefully does not need to be rehashed under similar – or worse – circumstances. 

I do recommend this book not just for horse lovers, but also for those looking for an uplifting story. It is a wonderful diary of a group of local residents accomplishing what was supposed to be impossible – and I commend Stutz for making the act of shovelling so interesting that the pages kept turning.