What Can Be Done to Stop the Chaos of a Trail Ride Event

Every few months, the familiar scene repeats itself somewhere in Texas: an open pasture or backroad trail draws hundreds—sometimes thousands—of riders on horseback, side-by-sides, ATVs and tricked-out trucks. For many, these trail rides are a tradition passed down through generations—a celebration of freedom, community and the rural way of life. But too often, the party grows beyond what anyone planned, stretching law enforcement thin and putting neighbors, businesses and innocent bystanders at risk.

After a violent weekend or a pile of traffic citations, the same questions echo through small-town coffee shops and sheriff’s offices: Why does this keep happening? And what can we do to stop it from turning into chaos?

The answers are not simple, but they are staring us in the face.

In Texas, trail rides themselves are not illegal—nor should they be. The state was built on horseback, after all. But the problem arises when these gatherings ignore the very rules meant to keep people safe. Under Texas law, any large outdoor event that draws crowds may require a local “mass gathering” permit.

Some counties, like Smith County, now take that a step further by requiring inspections by the fire marshal’s office before organizers can even advertise. That means verifying there are restrooms, clear entrances and exits for emergency responders, and that the pasture or trail won’t become a trap if the weather changes or tempers flare.

Those safeguards exist for good reason. In Smith County, a shooting at an unpermitted trail ride left five people wounded in 2022. In countless other rural spots, deputies routinely respond to trail rides that spill out into local highways, gas stations and small-town truck stops—choking traffic and flooding businesses with unruly crowds. Constables and sheriffs know the pattern by heart: too many vehicles, too few rules, and not enough boots on the ground to keep it all under control.

And it’s not just the people on horseback. Off-road vehicles—ATVs and UTVs—have their own set of rules under the Texas Transportation Code. They are not legal on public roads unless specifically designated by a local authority.

Riders must have lights, helmets and safety training if they want to operate legally. These requirements are ignored far too often. So, the so-called “trail ride” sometimes becomes a rolling street party with open containers and reckless driving—while law-abiding neighbors watch helplessly from their front porches.

So what’s the solution? First, counties must enforce the laws they already have. If you host an event for hundreds or thousands, get the permit. If you don’t, your event can and should be shut down before the first horse trailer shows up. If you charge admission or sell food and drinks, pay your taxes and meet health codes like any other public event.

Second, organizers and landowners must take responsibility for what happens on their property. State law offers protections for landowners who open their land for recreation—like the Agritourism Act or the Recreational Use Statute—but those protections assume the basic rules are followed. A handshake agreement isn’t enough when you invite the public. The moment someone is hurt or killed, everyone involved—promoter, landowner, even vendors—could face civil or criminal liability.

Third, communities need a frank conversation about balancing tradition with public safety. Trail rides are not going away—nor should they. They are part of Texas culture. But they should not come at the cost of lives lost, local businesses forced to shut down for the day, or deputies spending their entire weekend breaking up fights and steering traffic.

There is nothing anti-cowboy about rules and accountability. Permits, insurance, crowd control plans—these are not threats to tradition. They are the only way to preserve it safely.

Trail rides should bring neighbors together, not push them apart. If we want to keep riding the trails our grandfathers rode before us, it’s time to ride them right—before the next big gathering turns into the next headline.