It seems as if a disproportionate number of my log entries thus far involve debacles with livestock. These were all memorable events (for me) and make “good copy.” I certainly could’ve been severely injured or even killed on numerous occasions. As stated, working with horses and mules, alone in the wilderness, was far and away the most dangerous of the many hazardous tasks I performed on a regular basis. By 1990 I’d only been packing on my own for about four years and still had much to learn. Many of my mistakes were valuable lessons learned; some had to be repeated a few times. Others, I never quite figured out how to avoid. The story recounted here was an instance of not listening to the little voice that whispers words of caution. Over time, I did learn to heed it more often. All in all, working with livestock provides endless opportunities for one’s flaws and weak points to be brought out into the open, sometimes spectacularly. Humility follows on the heels of humiliation…at least, if you’re paying attention.
24 Jul (Tue) Heading out today. Had an open dinner invite so will spend the night in Bart’s basecamp . This gives me a chance to take care of a few things before I head out tomorrow…several birds with one rock. ◦◦◦◦◦ Leisurely packing and late start with the whole string in tow. To Long Lakes: walked all the way around both lakes with shovel and sack. Not too much trash but tore out five firepits, several of them large new ones by the shore of Upper. Saw a camp in that seldom-used camp on the peninsula of Lower Long. Ambled over and surprised two women (a couple) sunbathing topless. As they scrambled for their shirts I walked off a bit and gazed at the reeds. When I went back into their camp to chat, things were a bit icy at first but loosened up nicely. I commended them on their choice of campsite and commented on how seldom people take the time to scout around for a nice spot, generally flopping in the first easy site. Obviously, these two were looking for a little more privacy (which they were enjoying before the ranger barged in…). ◦◦◦◦◦ At quittin’ time , rode over to Bart’s camp in Walker Meadows. Rhi [camp cook] had slow-cooked a pot roast in the big Dutch oven, yippee! Nice group of eight in camp. Lovely dinner aside from my potatoes getting cold while I answered all the usual questions. Lots of stories around the cheery fire. ◦◦◦◦◦ My plan was to spend the night there so I could pack out all that old barbed wire I rolled up on the 22nd, saving me packing it back to the cabin before hauling it out—much easier. Hadn’t brought any feed, thinking “it’s just one night!” but, of course, wished I had. The four were hungry and antsy. I’d set up a high-line over bare ground and good thing—Redtop and Becky dug big holes [from pawing out of frustration]. Decided to turn two out at a time in groups of one pro/one rookie. (Had I turned Ramon and Val loose at the same time, they’d have run straight back to Piute. Mule and Redtop weren’t going anywhere without their comrades. Worked out okay.) ◦◦◦◦◦ At around 11, before going to bed, I checked on the horses. Walked right up on Redtop, who freaked when I shined my flashlight in his face. I was standing right there and he tossed his head back in a panic, his cheekbone catching me in the forehead. It knocked me silly for a second; bent my glasses, which cut me over the bridge of my nose. Today’s lesson: Don’t walk up on stock in the dark and shine a light in their eyes! (Blinds ‘em so they can’t see who (what) is attacking….) Talk to them as you approach and shine the light in your face so they know who’s coming!
25 Jul (Wed) A big ol’ long day…woke at dawn with the worried thought, "How many do I got?" Ramon and Val were tied and the two red ones standing there, starting to nibble at the few blades of grass left in the vicinity. Phew. But made a(nother) mistake right off: turned Val loose then tried to catch Becky. They knaved it up for 20 minutes, me chasing them around the meadow, both of them leaping and frolicking merrily. Finally got wise and caught Ramon, led him back, and Becky followed. With Ramon tied up she gave in instantly. Then I turned Val and Ramon out together and watched them like a hawk. ◦◦◦◦◦ This was a late-rising group (me up before the cook even) so while waiting I tore out two old firepits (full of trash) and picked up many cig butts and bits. Toilet paper all over! Whoever had camped here last just did their numbers on the ground and turned the paper loose. Why!?! ◦◦◦◦◦ After a killer breakfast by Rhi (cheesy egg scramble, biscuits, sausage gravy, fried trout), got saddled up and rode to the waterfall where my 12 rolls of rusty bob-war [joke-y western for “barbed wire”] were cached. Since I had the tools, fixed the crossing there at the lovely falls. Lopped out willows. The crossing had been blown out by that last flood, so deeply cut that hikers and stock had to step two feet out of the cut-bank. Not good. So I shoveled a ton or so of the volcanic mudflow debris and made a tolerable new passage. Any kind of work like this is, of course, temporary. This mix of small rocks, mud, and lava isn’t “designed” to stay put in any one place for long. ◦◦◦◦◦ Then it was time to deal with the wire. Much of the remains of this old drift-fence had been buried in the mudflow. After pulling up the buried sections I coiled it into rolls. Loaded Becky first. She didn’t like this stuff at all and was very jumpy and snorty. She was carrying the boxes (which were almost empty) but they made a fairly flat platform to pile rolls on. I put the five biggest ones on her, wrapped in the crummy old blankets I’d brought along. This made for a weird, very bulky and top-heavy load. The biggest rolls were three feet wide and I put them on top of smaller ones to make sure they wouldn’t settle onto her neck. (Those thin old blankets wouldn’t keep barbs from poking through.) Then I loaded Valiente, mashing smaller rolls so they’d fit in his slings [An alternative to rigid pack boxes, made of thick canvas and leather straps. Good for packing large, bulky items.] This worked fine. He was also carrying my dirty clothes and the cabin garbage. ◦◦◦◦◦ Got underway at about 2:00 and made it as far as the Fremont Lake/Chain o’ Lakes junction, where I stopped to adjust Becky’s load. It’d slipped forward some and I was afraid it was rubbing the top of her neck. Tied her separately to a lone tree in a sandy area. There was a three-foot-high boulder next to the tree on one side and a big rotten snag on the other and I thought, “This is good…sort of a natural pen. Might keep her from dancing around.” But I also had a vaguely uneasy sense that, also, the snag and boulder might make escape difficult if she flipped out. I’d gotten the tarp off and top straps undone. Put my hand under the front of the load between wire and her neck to see if it’d been rubbing her neck and, something about me touching her there made her suddenly go berserkers. Just like that, she was bucking like a rodeo bronc. I was already beating a hasty retreat but she swung her hind end toward me and the pack box caught me mid-back. It all happened in slow motion. I found myself flying through the air, completely off my feet and airborne. Had time to get my arms in front of me, saw that boulder coming my way and slammed into it hard, impacting first with my right forearm. The rest of me followed. I sort of rolled over the top of the rock and found myself crumpled in the sand on its far side. It happened so fast! Coming out of a fog I saw the wire rolls in a pile a good fifteen feet away. Becky, hyperventilating, her eyes rolled back, was clearly terrified. Still in shock, I got straight up and started reloading, talking gently and telling her how wonderful she is, what a good mule (all lies.) Amazingly, she let me do this. Me: bruised and abraded but not much blood. ◦◦◦◦◦ The rest of the trip was not uneventful. Weirdest load I’ve ever hauled, maybe. For one thing, it made a god-awful metallic screechy-screechy sound. I added rocks to each side repeatedly to balance it as we went, one at a time. The load would begin to shift and I’d add another or remove one but it never stabilized, even after being adjusted eight or nine times. Each time, I’d approach Becky slowly but she’d freak and jump off the trail. Learned pretty quickly not to touch her anywhere on the neck. Poor thing was completely spooked. ◦◦◦◦◦ Finally got to the pack station yard at 6:30, one exhausted cowboy. Arm had swollen and hurt pretty good. Folks from the basecamp had arrived not much earlier and all the hitch-rails were occupied. Had to unload way over in a corner of the yard and carry all my tack and that accursed wire the extra distance. ◦◦◦◦◦ To town for, in this order, shower…laundry in…mail…laundry out…food. Got to the Cedar not long before closing for late-night bad pizza. But it tasted mighty fine under the circumstances, lemme tell ya.
©2017 by Tim Forsell 5 Jan 2017
