HORSEMAN'S SPECIAL EDITION August 2009
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| >>>>The horses we ride into British Columbia are a cross of Western Quarter Horse and plain old stubborn American Donkey. They make it interesting that's for sure. You don't ride a horse like Secretariat into the last wilderness left on the continent. The Quarter Horse in them gives us the edge of 'quick off the line acceleration' in the event of psychotic grizzly bear encounters. Never wander off alone out here people, no matter how indestructible you think you are, this is their house and nobody knows it better. I made that mistake 3 days from now and ran into one that definitely needs to make an appointment with a psychoanalyst. Our 'horses' have pure blood in them from their dam's bloodline of course but that only matters if the sire side (donkey) wants to move today, or tomorrow.... |
Please sit back and relax if possible as I take you along on one of our trips by horseback, we ride with pack mules in stride, through the North Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State, north into the last Wilderness of Canada's breathtaking Province of British Columbia. We meet at my old friend's ranch, he owns hundreds of acres bordering the Mt. Baker/Snoqualmie National Forests on the western foothills of the Range. Countless horses and mules stretching to the tree line, with a mile long fence on the road side. They have plenty of room to roam and have free range access to National Forest adventure, most of them wander back eventually, the food isn't as hard to find. It's the summer of 1989, let's ride.>>>>
....That's where we are now; I'm done fishing this river, packed up with almost a dozen silver colored fish swung over the side of one mule. My friends are telling me they want to make it to a bend in the river 6 miles north before nightfall to set up camp. But I have this bow-legged, one-eyed mule that wants to be left for a cougar to eat. I wouldn't leave him there, I just said that to get him to move. We pick up a better pace trotting the pack mules in the shallows of the river bed we're following. The sun's beating down on us at around 90 degrees if the compass/thermostat is right, they like stepping in that cold Glacial Teal water whose original source is awe inspiring in its own self. By its movement through 10,000 years of wear and tear by the time honored action of grinding glaciers and snow melt from 7,000-10,000ft elevations in the mountains, the water has a tendency to collect what some call rock flour or Glacial Teal water as the people call it. The purest of all water to drink, except we run it across the ceramic element in our hand held water filter. That rock flour sediment can catch up with you if you're not careful my friends. Or let it settle in a container. Camp was made around 6pm. Old reliable, my best friend's brother, had a line in the water and caught something they said was a salmon. I still say it was an old miner's boot. I ate a piece of that thing, it was so bad we should have eaten the pan instead, nothing tasted good after that until I scrubbed that pan with a handful of rocks and dirt. The fish I caught earlier were cooked directly on the metal grill grate we carry with a mule. Pile some rocks around the fire; lay the grate across the rocks and makeshift stove in the wilderness. We busted out with some potato's to bake on the fire with that afternoon's legitimate catch, I also opened up a couple of cans of beef stew and found the mule with the saltines on him. We are looking for 2 of the pack mules that seemed to have walked away from camp, one had a sign on his cargo tarp that said 'fragile/spirits'. I hope they haven't learned how to open a Jack Daniel's bottle. That's impossible anyway, they don't wear horseshoes. We have a pile of firewood stacked up behind us, maybe a couple of organized face cords. We have tarps tied off to trees for a big lean-to
around one side of the campfire. I guess they're planning on sleeping in their tents; I would rather sleep in front of the campfire and keep it going all night. The temperature drops to about 40 overnight this time of year. I always figure let the bears know we are here with fire so they don't stumble across our camp and get startled. Noisy activity can save your life, you never want to surprise a Black Bear or Grizzly Bear, don't expect rational behavior from a wild animal. If they know you're around they are more likely to try to avoid you, surprise them and they start at the level of survival instinct. Hope they are not hungry. There was one bear sighting in a valley we cut through and a few signs of bear activity during the days ride. These two brothers I'm with never quit talking. They only see each other a few times a year anymore. Anyway, I'm lying down under my lean-to while they keep the fire going, fine with me.
