Category Archives: Western Trails

Posts regarding trails I have ridden, plan to ride, or just hope to ride

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Days 7-9, Leg 1, Chiricahua Mountains

Sorry it’s been a while since I made my last post about the trip from the US/Mexico border to Eagar, Az, leg 1 of the Mexico-to-Canada trip. This post is about days 7-9 of the pack trip, which took place in the Chiricahua Mountains, mostly just outside the Chiricahua National Monument. Joshua Jensen and Al Smith and their mules were our guides.

When we left off on Day 6, we had made camp on the east side of the top of Fly Peak, it was very cold, and our drinking water froze by the time we hit the sack.

On Friday morning, day 7 of our pack trip, April 17, we got up and went through the usual routine of feeding and brushing horses, breakfast, packing up, loading up, then getting started. Dad and I had taken our horses over to the spring earlier for a good drink before saddling up. While we were there at the spring with our six animals, a couple horses got tangled up and Dad got a good knock from a horse’s head. No harm done. I led my horses out of the way while Dad watered his, then we both led them all the quarter-mile back to camp.

After mounting up, we all started off up the trail. We hadn’t gone but a hundred yards or so, when Dad suddenly realized he didn’t have his glasses on. After going over everything we had done that morning in our minds, we arrived at the conclusion that Dad had lost his glasses on the trail back at the spring, when he got knocked by the fussing horses. I held all the horses while Dad headed down the trail to the spring to see if he could find them. A few silent prayers and about 20 minutes later and Dad was back with his glasses. He had found them on the trail, right where all of our five horses and a mule had passed after drinking at the spring. It was nothing short of miraculous that none of the animals had stepped on them.

Clearing Trail in the Chiricahuas
Hand’s Pass

So, that was a good start for the day. We needed one, because the next couple of miles were pretty tough. We had to cut our way through deadfall after deadfall and make our way around those we couldn’t cut out. After that it got easier. The trail was better and we made good time. At Rustler Park we joined USFS 42D and followed it several miles.  Along that road we sort of let the horses have their head. I was riding Lizzy for the day and she loves to walk out. My GPS said we traveled along at up to 6 miles per hour for a while. Not bad for our little pack string. We turned east on Pinery Road and followed it to the North Fork of the Pinery River.

As we wound our way down Pinery Road, suddenly Dad and I heard a clatter of hooves behind us. We moved to the side just in time to have Al on his mule pass us at a full gallop! As he passed, Al yelled for us not to worry and to just keep on like we were. We wondered what had gotten into him, but just passed it off as a matter of Al’s way of training his mule. About two miles farther on we caught up with Al and learned the truth. The chinstrap on his bridle had broken and he had no control of the mule at all, so he just hung on until the mule decided he’d had enough fun for the day. After that, all was well. Like I’ve said before, one never knew who was in charge at any one time with that pair. Theirs was sort of a cooperative partnership; sometimes one was in charge, sometimes the other. It was a lot of fun to watch them work.

Hand's Pass
Hand’s Pass

At North Fork, we turned north and followed a two-track to Hand’s Pass. The last couple miles up to the pass were steep. It was a tough climb for the horses. Once over the pass we descended into Bloomberg Canyon and followed it down past the mouth to Whitetail Canyon. We camped alongside Indian Creek there in the canyon bottom.

For the day we made 17 miles, which was excellent, considering the first couple miles that day of cutting through the deadfalls. I didn’t get many pictures that day, because all my batteries were exhausted. We had been in thick brush and trees for two days and I hadn’t been able to get enough sunshine to charge anything. My GPS was still at about 50%, so it was ok, but about everything else was dead.  During the latter part of the day I was able to tie a solar panel to the back of my saddle and got a 31% charge in my iphone.

Solar panel tied behind the saddle
Solar panel tied behind the saddle

On Saturday, day 8, after our obligatory morning oblations, we headed into the mouth of Whitetail Canyon (I think). We started up a trail that hadn’t been maintained in many years, but the trail was marked with rock cairns along the way. Josh had ridden up part of the trail during one of his scouting forays before the pack trip and believed we could make it through the canyon to hit another trail that would take us farther north and exit the mountains at the far north end of the Chiricahuas. As it turned out, we made it up the canyon about 2.5 miles before we just couldn’t go any further. The trail had long before petered out and the canyon narrowed to a mere slit in the rock that was simply too dangerous for us to attempt. We had to backtrack and ended up making camp about a half mile or so farther east down Whitetail Canyon than our camp the night before.

I will say this about the day’s experience: We learned a lot about our little string. Bushwhacking our way up that canyon bottom was some of the toughest trail I have ever been on and our horses handled it very well. I was riding Ranger for the day, and found him to be extremely sure-footed and willing. At one point we had Dad and Josh stay with the pack string, while Al and I went on ahead to scout the trail, to see whether the rest could make it. Al’s mule, I’m pretty sure, is part mountain goat, and he would go through places with ease that I would normally have tried to go around. However, Ranger followed right behind the mule, doing everything the mule did. In fact, there were places Al went around that Ranger went right on through. I was quite impressed and proud of Ranger.

Dad and I set up camp for the evening there in the mouth of Whitetail Canyon, not more than a mile from several houses and what would be our exit from the Chiricahuas. Josh and Al moved on down the canyon and were able to get a ride back to their truck and trailer, parked where we met in Rucker Canyon.

Camp at Whitetail Canyon
Camp at Whitetail Canyon

Dad and I enjoyed a nice evening, though we were pretty tired and a bit frustrated at having traveled more than seven miles that day and only making about two miles of actual progress.

The next day was Sunday, so we spent our rest day there in camp in Whitetail Canyon. There was a dry stream bed nearby that had a few small ponds of water in it. We washed laundry in one and I bathed in another. It certainly was refreshing. We had a day of full sun, so I set out my solar panels and was able to get full charges in all our batteries. I took a look at our maps and the topo on my iphone (DeLorme map app) and took a good look at the trail we tried the day before. From what I could tell, we had made it to within 1,000 feet of the trail we were trying to reach. So close and yet so far, as they say. At the trailhead we followed, we had passed a sign that read, “Horse Trail 1 mile.” We must have missed the that trail, if it even exists anymore, because we went in and out of that canyon and never found it.

Washing in a puddle
Washing in a puddle

That afternoon, Josh and Al showed up and brought the gear we had left in their trailer back at Rucker Canyon, including the pack saddle for Daisy (you might recall we had been ponying Daisy bareback the past several days to allow a saddle sore to heal up). They also brought another four sacks of Equidyne for the horses. That was to last us for the next several days until we reached Safford. They left us then and headed back to civilization and their jobs. We sure enjoyed the time we traveled with them and and appreciated their guidance through the mountains. We never would have made it without their help.

 

Cochise Peak, Chiricahua Wilderness Area
Cochise Peak

So, my next post will cover days 10-14, Monday April 20 through Friday April 24 as we crossed the desert from the Chiricahuas to Safford, AZ.

 

 

Great Western Trail, Website Management, Western Trails

For those of you who have been asking….

Over the past several months, a number of friends and followers of my blog have asked how they might contribute to helping Dad and me get underway on the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip. I have always been pretty much a “do-it-yourself” kind of guy, having been raised by a father who was that way, so asking for assistance is sometimes difficult. However, we have been the grateful recipients of help in many ways, including support on the trail, guides, farriers, transportation, gear, stopover points, and also a bit of financial help.

Over the years, I have enjoyed the good feelings I get when I have had opportunity to share in another’s success by helping in any way I can. Sometimes the only way I can help is by a small financial contribution. While time is always more valuable than money, good causes are always worthy of help and sometimes there is no other way for me to contribute positively than to donate financially. Well, maybe it’s our turn to be on the receiving end.

This adventure of ours has been far more expensive than I had anticipated. I have had to draw from family savings because the expenses have exceeded the income I have been able to bring in from my current post-retirement work. I purchased almost all our gear last year, including a well-used 4-horse trailer. Our total expenses for last year’s trip exceeded $23,000.

This year I purchased about $1,500 worth of gear as well as a new horse for the trip, as I had to replace my Fox Trotter mare, who is game, but proved not to be the right horse for the trip. Many of the expenses for this year’s trip have been unanticipated. Last month, on the return from our tune-up trip to Moab, Utah, I blew the engine in my truck. The rebuild and other repairs associated with getting the truck ready for this year’s trip have run in excess of $10,000 over the past two months. Since I bought the horse trailer I have blown four tires on the rear axle. Two were brand new tires. Last week I took the trailer in to have it checked, to see what might be the cause. The problem was diagnosed as a slightly bent rear axle. Having a new axle installed, along with having the front bearings repacked and the brakes and backing plates replaced, ran me $2170. The trailer is still at the shop with further adjustments being made. Hopefully, this will fix the problem of having to buy a new set of trailer tires every other trip. Last week I replaced four tires on my truck. There went another $1,000.

My plan for the year was to be able to cover all our expenses for gear, vehicle, fuel, etc, and have $5,000 in my trip account before I started. All the above unanticipated expenses have shot that plan all to heck and I’m back into family savings. My good wife, bless her heart, is still supportive of our trip.

Recently we received good news that much of our horse feed would be donated by an anonymous donor. Friends and family are donating time. Still to come are expenses for fuel for the trip, including fuel for our support help, horse feed, people feed, and other expenses we will incur once we actually start making tracks.

For those of you who have been following the blog and enjoying our father and son adventure through my writing and who have been asking how you may help, I have created a “Donate” button on the website. It connects to my PayPal account. You will find a “Donate” menu item on the main menu. It will take you to the page with the PayPal Donate button. For those who wish it, I will keep the donations confidential. For those who don’t mind, I will create a list of contributors to post on the website after the ride this year is done.

And thank you very much for your help.

Tack and Gear, Western Horsemanship, Western Trails

Ride to Swinging Bridge, along the San Rafael River, southern Utah

Two weeks ago I was invited along with Jon Tanner and Casey & Erin Johnson to head down to the San Rafael River for a ride. The area we went to is commonly known as Swinging Bridge, named for the old wooden suspension bridge that used to carry the road traffic across the bridge. I thought crossing that bridge might be a good training exercise for my horses. We will have to cross a swinging bridge in the bottom of the Grand Canyon at the end of June on our big pack trip and I sure would hate to get there and have the horses balk.

The route from the Utah Valley (Orem/Provo/Spanish Fork) area is to take US Route 6 to Price, then State Route 10 about 29 miles south to USFS 401 (also known as Green River Cutoff Road), which is a well-maintained dirt road, just north of Castle Dale. If you hit Castle Dale, you missed the turnoff. Turn left (east) on USFS 401 and follow it about 16 miles, to USFS 332 (also known as Buckhorn Draw Road). You will pass two major intersections and USFS 332 on the north side before you get to the 332 on the south side, so just make sure you stay on 401 until you see the sign for USFS 332 on the south side of 401. Take USFS 332 south about 10 or so miles further, until you pass the old bridge over the San Rafael River. There is designated (primitive) camping in that area, but you can go on another 1/2 mile and make a right (west) and go about 3/4 of a mile and you will find another designated camp area with a half-decent corral.

At the equine camp area near Swinging Bridge
At the equine camp area near Swinging Bridge

There is no water at the camp area and no facilities. The river is easy to access and close enough to water horses.

The trailhead leads directly off from there, westward, up the “Little Grand Canyon”. It’s best to go with someone who’s been there before, because in some places the trail has seen insufficient use to be clearly marked and it is not maintained. Some parts of this trail are pretty spooky for horses and riders unused to the rough country, however a decent trail horse can negotiate even the toughest parts safely. I personally do not recommend this trail for people and horses that have not done a bit of back country riding. It is not a “walk in the park,” so to speak. The trail we rode goes up the canyon a ways, then turns off into a side canyon to the south that dead-ends at Virgin Spring. The spring is a pool of clear, cool water larger than your average swimming pool. A nice place for lunch.

Virgin Spring
Virgin Spring

You can also continue to follow the river and main canyon on northwesterly, on up to Fuller Bottoms. I’m told it’s about another eight or so miles. It would be a great ride if you had someone to pick you up on the other end.

Just a note about the trail: There is quicksand in the river bottom and in some other places where water occasionally stands. Be careful and pay attention to your horse. Many of them have a sense about quicksand and can keep you and themselves out of a world of trouble. Stay to areas where other animals cross, such as cows, horses, and mules.

We rode in on Saturday morning with our group along with a group of mule riders. We crossed paths with a number of hikers and backpackers, so be aware and please be courteous. Leashes are not required on dogs. It is an excellent trail on which to have your canine trail companions along.

Reno in his first packing training experience
Reno in his first packing training experience

On this particular trail, I decided to train my new young gelding to pack. He’d never had a packsaddle on, as far as I know, and I’m sure he’d never before encountered hard paniers. I put my newly acquired TrailMax bear-resistant hard paniers on him and dropped a 50# sack of feed in each side. When we started down the trail we were dead last in the group – on purpose. We had us a pretty good little rodeo there for a few minutes as Reno and Ranger got used to the sounds and feel of the hard paniers. After about a quarter mile they began to settle down enough for me to handle them. Reno, scared of the paniers and experiencing packing for the first time, kept wanting to come up alongside me. I was afraid he would end up pushing Ranger and me off the trail and down the mountainside. After a few good whacks on the nose with his lead rope he finally recognized the wisdom in staying back and following behind.

The easy part of the trail
The easy part of the trail

The trail turned out to be an excellent training experience for my pack horse, however, had I known beforehand what we faced, I wouldn’t have packed him or ponied him along. We passed through willow thickets, standing rocks, narrow trails on cliff faces, river crossings, very steep ascents and descents, and even quicksand in the river bottom. By the time we finished our ride for the day, about 16 miles in and out, he had learned about walking around things, rather than trying to bull through everything. One thing is sure, he proved to be a very sound and level-headed horse. Even when he got “pinched” between a couple rocks, after trying to get through a couple times, he stood still while I unbuckled straps on one side, so I could lift the panier over a rock. As I did so, he calmly walked on forward to get through, then allowed me to re-rig the panier.  I was very pleased with him.

Due to the fact that I had one hand on the reins controlling Ranger, and one hand on the lead rope handling Reno, I was unable to get more than just a few photos and no video at all. Sorry. I’ll get some next time.

All-in-all, it was a great ride and one I plan to do again.

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

The horses we’re taking on the Big Ride…

Today I have been thinking about the horses we’ll be taking on the big ride. This year we’ve decided to take only two pack horses. We feel like there will be more feed along most of the way this year, due to the different terrain and elevations we will be riding through,  so we won’t have to pack as much feed as we did last year. Also, we found that handling six horses was a real chore for us. We finished the last week of last year’s trip with four horses and found it much easier on us. We’ve also cut down the amount of camp gear we will have this year. We took a lot of “just in case” stuff that we won’t have this year.

As I’ve said before, I’ll be taking Ranger, my Fox Trotter Paint, Jimbo, my free mustang, and Reno, the new QH Paint I recently bought. Dad will bring his QH gelding, Little Black.

Me on Lizzy Losee Canyon 2015I’ll  also be hauling Lizzy, my Fox Trotter mare, down there, but leaving her in Eagar, AZ as a spare…just in case. I’m actually sorry I can’t take her on the ride. She is the best trail horse I have, but I learned last year that she just isn’t the right horse for a pack trip like this. She has a very slick and light coat of hair in the summer and it just doesn’t give her the protection from abrasion that she needs. Last year she got rub sores everywhere she was touched by a strap on the pack saddle rigging. I think it’s her long-strided, swinging walk that does it. Ironically, it’s that walk that I love on the trail. She really loves to be out and going. Other horses have to trot (or Fox Trot) to keep up with her walk. She is a horse I trust implicitly on the trail.

The horse I plan to have my saddle on most of the time during the 620-mile, 8-9 week pack trip this year is Ranger, my good old buddy. Ranger is a grade Fox Trotter gelding about 8 years old this year. I’ve had him about a year-and-a-half now. He was with us on last year’s leg of the big pack trip. He and I have bonded. Now, when I say “bonded” I am fully aware that normally means the rider has bonded with the horse – not necessarily vice-versa. My experience tells me that most horses don’t “love” their owners nearly as much as their owners “love” their equine companion. My experience also tells me that once in a while there comes along a horse that breaks the mold. I put Ranger in that latter category. I think Ranger is bonding with me more and more, as time and experience together unfolds. I consider him as much a trail “bud” as I do my faithful dog, Clancy.

Now, Ranger isn’t the prettiest of horses. I always wanted to have a horse that when we passed by, folks would look and say, “Now, there’s a good looking horse!” Ranger isn’t that horse. He might even be considered by some to be homely. Ranger stands about 16 hands, has a very deep chest and long legs. Seems like his ribs always show, regardless of how much he’s fed, even when he has a hay belly. He has a short, straight back and tall withers. He has what cowboys commonly call, “cat hips” because he always looks gaunt, like he’s about half-starved. His neck is maybe a little long, in proportion to his back, his hind quarters are sloped and smallish, he has a narrow chest, a big head, and he’s turkey-toed. He reminds me of the tall, skinny basketball player who can’t seem to put on any weight, yet is strong and athletic.

And Ranger is strong! He is athletic! He has the smoothest movement of any horse I have ever ridden. I’m not just talking about his gaits, but his movement. Ranger moves smoothly in everything he does. Even when he’s acting up, which he occasionally does, it is smooth. I love that. When he moves into his Fox Trot, he can really cover ground. He’s not as fast in it as some horses I’ve seen, but he moves right along. He has a good flat-footed walk that equates well in speed with a Quarter Horse’s jog, and a lope that is like sitting in a rocking chair. I truly enjoy riding this guy.

But, I think the thing I like most about Ranger is his willingness to go just about anywhere and do anything I ask. That’s not to say I don’t have to convince him now and again. He is not totally without caution, but once convinced, he simply goes. He is the most sure-footed horse I have ever had the pleasure to ride…unless it’s Lizzy. Last year, in the Chiricahua National Monument, as we crossed those rough mountains, we ended up trying a trail that hadn’t been maintained in a number of years. As we got up into Whitetail Canyon, the trail sort of peter’d out and we were bushwhacking – four mules and five horses, four of which were under packsaddles, four under riding saddle, and one being ponied.

One of our guides was on a mule that I’m pretty sure was part billy goat. You never quite knew who was in charge of that team, the rider, Al Smith, or the mule. It seemed to be sort of a cooperative arrangement – sometimes Al was in charge and sometimes he just held on for dear life. It was a marvel to watch them work. Anyway, to get back to Ranger, finally the trail became so bad that Al and I left Dad and Joshua with the pack animals and we went on ahead to make sure we could get all the stock through the next part of the canyon. I’m here to tell you Al’s mule would move right on through the roughest terrain, up, down, over ledges, it just didn’t matter. That’s where I began to learn a lot I hadn’t previously known about Ranger. My boy stayed right behind that mule and did everything he did without any hesitation whatsoever. He even went through some places Al steered around. I learned then that Ranger was a horse I could trust in the rough stuff to get me where I needed to go and back.

Last month I took Ranger on a ride back into the old Robber’s Roost area of Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch fame. We descended into Horseshoe Canyon by the original trail used by the Wild Bunch. Stories tell us that when posses arrived at the head of that trail, they started thinking about their wives and kids back in town and just turned around right there. I am here to tell you they made the right choice! That was one heck of a descent into the canyon! That was a trail on which you only take horses you really trust.

Fortunately, I had my GoPro camera in a hat-mount and had the presence of mind to turn it on before we started down. You’ll see that video in my next post. After viewing that clip, you’ll see what I mean about Ranger’s willingness and sure-footedness and why I enjoy riding him. You’ll also see Lizzy doing her thing, as she was carrying my little sister on that trip.

I am very much looking forward to riding Ranger through the Grand Canyon in June.

Jimbo, the mustang that was given to us last year, free of charge, just in time for the ride, turned out to be a Godsend for us.  He’s not a BLM mustang, so he doesn’t have the BLM brand, but he’s a real mustang nonetheless. Probably from the Navajo or Jicarilla Apache Reservation. He’s a 8 year-old gelding mustang, bay in color. He has nice, hard, round, black hooves that are nearly as tough as horseshoes. He stands about 14 hands and has a good, solid build. Nothing wrong with him at all.

The first few days on the trail last year he was a real headache, because he was so skittish that you couldn’t even scratch your own head without him taking off and breaking loose. However, he never ran away, thankfully, and within a couple days he settled down and became a very steady saddle and pack horse for us. In fact, by the time we finished last year’s ride – 355 miles in 28 days, over some of the roughest terrain on God’s green earth – he was the only horse we had on the trip that came out completely unscathed. Not a single scratch on him. I guess his natural skittishness, common in former wild mustangs, served him well. He always stayed out of trouble. When the other horses started milling around, he simply backed away and wanted nothing to do with it. Good, solid horse. We were glad to have him along. He’ll be with us on this trip. He’s the one Dad likes to ride. He’s the one I trust the most with my 82 year-old dad.

Reno is the newcomer to the herd. I bought him in February from a family in Heber, UT. He’s a grade paint, whose sire is APHA registered, but whose dam I know nothing about. He stands about 14-2 hands and he’ll be four years old in June. He’s solidly built, has nice, round hooves (front ones are solid black and hard), nice broad chest and shoulders, nice QH rump and hind quarters. He’s a bit beefier in build than the others. He was sort of raised like a puppy, so while he loves people, almost preferring people to horses, he’s a little disrespectful and undisciplined. I’m working on that and he’s turning out to be a good, solid horse. He has proven to have a very level-headed attitude and is not prone to panicking in difficult situations. I am liking him more and more the longer I have him and the more I use him. He has one of those “in-your-pockets” type of personality, that I rather enjoy, without being pushy. He does well on the trails and is learning quickly to watch where he puts his feet. He stumbles occasionally, but is learning quickly, due to the rough terrain I’ve been training him in.

Last week I took him to a place called Swinging Bridge, south of Price in the San Rafael Swell area of Utah. I used that ride to train Reno how to handle packs, since he’d never been packed before. I put our new set of hard paniers on him and loaded each side with a 40 pound bag of alfalfa pellets. We had a bit of a rodeo when we first started out, as the sounds the hard paniers make – being made of hard plastic – scared him. We went round and round a few times. He settled down pretty quickly, though, and showed no disposition to buck.

Reno, in training with our hard paniers

We went through some pretty rough stuff, including rocks, trees, willow thickets, river crossings, and very steep grades. By the time we were done with the 16-mile ride, he had figured out how to walk around things with those hard paniers. At one point he got “pinched” between two rocks where the paniers wouldn’t fit. He tried to bull his way through a couple times, then just stopped and waited while I unbuckled one panier and lifted it over one rock as he made his way forward. No panic at all. It was a very good training day for him.

It was a good test for the durability of those Trail Max bear-resistant paniers as well, and I can report, with no reservations, that they are, in fact, very durable! Mine can now be considered “broke-in” and bear the scars and marks to prove it. They are tough! I think they’ll be an excellent addition to our gear for the big ride.

Dad will be bringing his little gelding, Black. Black is an unregistered QH, grandson of Doc O’Lena. Being of cutter stock, he’s on the small side, only standing around 13 hands, maybe a bit more. He was bred and raised by my cousin, Steve Hatch, of St. George, Ut and given to my mother as a gift. She can’t ride anymore, so he’s been Dad’s horse for many years. He’s carried Dad on more rides than I can count and through some of the roughest terrain on earth. Dad trusts that little horse implicitly, and that’s important for a man who’s past 81 years old. Little Black is very strongly built, has excellent conformation, strong legs, and very hard hooves. He’s coming on to about 16 years of age, as far as we can figure, so this will be his last major ride. This is the horse Dad will ride through the Grand Canyon, on the South Kaibab and North Kaibab Trails. He’s a gutsy, strong, level-headed little horse and he’ll carry Dad well.

So, we think we have a good remuda for the big pack trip. We’ve been getting them into condition and we’re about ready to ride.

I’ll depart Salem, Utah on May 16 with a fully loaded truck and trailer and head for Eagar, Arizona, which will be our starting point this year. We’ll do our last-minute preparations there and start making tracks on Dad’s 82nd birthday, May 23, 2016.

Anyone who would like to join in and ride with us to see us off there at Eagar, is more than welcome. We’ll be starting at my place at the north end of Poverty Flat Road, Eagar, AZ about 9:00am.

Anyone who would like to join up with us at any place along our route and ride with us for a few days may contact me at tony.henrie@westerntrailrider.com, so we can coordinate details.

Stay tuned for more to come.

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Tune-up ride to the Moab, Utah area last month…

Last month Dad and I took a trip down to the Moab, Utah area for a tune-up ride, in preparation for the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada trip this year. We loaded all four of my horses, three of which will be used on the trip, and hauled from my place in Salem, Utah to Moab. The drive down took us about four hours.

The trip from Salem to Moab is actually an enjoyable drive, for the most part, coming up Spanish Fork Canyon, over Soldier Summit, down Price Canyon, then across some of the most barren desert country in the United States. Once you start heading into the Moab area, though, the scenery becomes spectacular, filled with red sandstone cliffs. You can even see from the highway several prominent natural arches off to the east in Arches National Park.

Blew a trailer tire
Blew a trailer tire

About 20 or so miles north of Moab, we blew a tire on the trailer. Luckily it was right before a nice pullout, where we changed the tire to the spare and limped on into Moab. We bought a couple new trailer tires at Chip’s Grand Tire Pros and they had us back on the road in a jiffy.

We traveled on south of Moab to about five miles, to a 4WD designated trail named “Back of the Rocks”. It is located on the north side of highway 191, south of Moab, just as the highway goes up the hill and turns westerly. There is a sign at the road entrance, but it’s not much. If you get to the Kane Springs area you have gone too far. Sorry I didn’t get a mile marker number.

This trail runs northward up on top of the cliff you passed as you drove south out of Moab. It is an easy ride that even a novice can handle, however there are some pretty spectacular views from up there. The trail runs about 2.5 miles or so and ends, so it’s a ride in and out on the same trail in a couple hours. Keep in mind that it is a multi-use trail, so you can expect to pass a number of off-road vehicles, hikers, bikers, and equines on your way.

Here are a few pictures from Back of the Rocks:

After riding Back of the Rocks, we loaded back up and headed on south about another 30 miles to Lisbon Valley.  We set up camp behind a big red rock my nephews call Turtle Rock. It is located on the east side of Highway 191 at about mile marker 197.25. There is a gate there and a ranch road that leads over behind the rock, where there are corrals. There is no water, so you have to haul your own. Good campsite, though.

The following morning we rode back into the red canyons north and east of camp. I decided to ride my new horse, Reno, who is young and needs some training. Dad rode Jimbo, our mustang. About 3/4 of a mile northeast, down into the dry wash area north of camp, we discovered a cattle watering trough with plenty of fresh, clean water for the horses. From there we made our own trails, as we explored the canyons and hills. We followed one canyon to its end, where we found a little water for the horses. We stopped there to have lunch and rest ourselves and the horses a bit. Later, we followed up a canyon with a creek in the bottom until we figured we had better start back to camp. We did 8.3 miles that day, according to my GPS.

The following day, we headed eastward to explore. It was a little easier riding than the canyons northward. We found a natural arch and climbed our horses up on top of a big, round, sandstone rock. We had an enjoyable day, Dad and I. We wandered around for several hours, putting the horses through a little training, going up and down ledges, over trees, through gulleys, and generally giving them a good workout.

On the way back toward camp, while walking through a dry river bottom with little vegetation and nothing to be concerned about, Ranger, who was ridden by Dad, stepped into a prairie dog hole and sunk up above his knee. He tried to catch himself with his other front, but it too sank, as the fine red sand simply gave way beneath him. Ranger went down onto his forehead, rolling Dad off onto the ground from nearly ground level. Ranger then went on over onto his back, then quickly got back to his feet. Lizzy got excited and began to buck. First time she’s ever bucked with me. She didn’t really have her heart in it, so I rode her out and she calmed down after a short romp. Dad was ok and Ranger was standing head down with his bridle headstall pulled down over his eyes. After a quick check to make sure we still had all our gear and body parts, we remounted and continued our ride.

Here are some pics of the second and third days of riding:

Back at camp we picked up the other two horses and ponied them out to the water trough. We then rode them over to the highway, where there is a large culvert that allows livestock to pass under the highway. I figured this was a good training exercise for the horses. We will have to pass through a narrow tunnel in the bottom of the Grand Canyon on the South Kaibab trail, so I wanted the horses to have at least a little experience with tunnels. The culvert was about 12 feet in diameter and ran for probably 200 feet or so. After a little convincing the first time through, the horses slowly got accustomed to the sounds and darkness. We took them through the tunnel several times until they no longer hesitated, before returning to camp.

We then broke camp and headed home, arriving in the late afternoon, concluding a great couple days of riding and training.

 

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Day Six

Day six, for Dad and me, was both tough and wonderful. We had made our first fifty miles and all was well. Now we had entered the first range of mountains along our route: the Chiricahuas. We were excited to get off the dirt roads and onto some mountain trails.

Joshua Jensen and Al Smith had arrived the previous evening. Joshua had fixed us a meal of T-bone steak, cheese-covered potatoes, fetachini, and brownies, all made even better by sitting around a campfire in the mountains, enjoying the company of good friends. After a week on the trail, eating dehydrated meals with no spices but salt and pepper, that dinner was heavenly!

On this morning, we discussed and planned out our route before getting packed up. The original route I had planned had been exposed to a devastating fire several years before and was impassable and in places nonexistent. Good thing Joshua volunteered to join up with us. Joshua and Al, being intimately familiar with the Chiricahua trail system, mapped out a route for us that was both beautiful and exhilarating…and pretty tough in places. Whatever else the route might have been, it was unforgettable.

Al in front, Joshua following
Al in front, Joshua following

The route we ended up taking through the mountains took us up the Monte Vista Trail out of the North Fork of Rucker Canyon, where we were camped, to hit the Crest Trail just on the north side of Monte Vista Peak, following it over Fly Peak (where we camped that night) and down to join USFS 42C at Rustler Park. We followed 42D to Pinery Canyon Road, where we turned west (my journal says east, but it was west) and followed it down to the North Fork of Pinery Creek . We then followed North Fork for a ways, then turned north on a trail to Hands Pass. From there our route took us past Barrel Spring and through Bloomberg Canyon (where we camped the following night) and into Whitetail Canyon. We attempted to turn west up Indian Creek Canyon from there, but gave up after about three miles, finding the trail impassable (non-existent) for horses. We ended up returning to Bloomberg Canyon, staying our Sunday rest day there, then left the Chiricahuas through Whitetail Canyon Road. We then hit Noland Road and followed alongside it north to San Simon.

Now that you have our route through the Chiricahua mountains in mind, let me tell you about our companions and their mighty steeds. Both Joshua and Al ride mules. I have always had an interest in mules, but this was my first extensive experience with them on mountain trails.

Joshua is a tall, young US Border Patrol Officer in his late twenties or early thirties. He rides for their mounted patrol out of the Safford District. He’s a nice, clean-cut man and a pleasure to be around. A fine horseman and experienced packer, he has converted over to mules. He has two of them. Treasure is an experienced molly out of a thoroughbred mare. She stood about 17 hands, was almost totally black, except for a few highlights around her flanks and legs, had very fine legs and excellent conformation. She was also a bit ornery. Riding behind her, I had to watch that my horse didn’t get too close. His other mule, Tigger, was shorter and younger, about 4 years old as I recall, about 15 hands or so, dun-dish or roan-ish in color, with zebra-striped legs. A very pretty molly, she was also slow as Christmas. She just didn’t care to keep up with the rest of us. Joshua had recently acquired her and was still working with her training. While his taller, older molly had a very nice walk and could really eat up distance, the slower one held her back.

Al, on the other hand, rode a dark molly, about 15-1/2 hands or a little better, that was a real handful. She was very skittish around anyone but Al. She could really walk out, though. I mean, even my Fox Trotters had a hard time keeping up with her. Now you have to see this in your mind’s eye as I describe Al and his mule. Al stands all of about 5′-5 or 6″, and weighs in at around a buck-40 or so. He has a full beard, almost as full and nice as Santa Claus’ beard, but a little more gray than white. He has a grin that just makes you want to smile all the time and a quick whit that always kept us wondering what he was going to say next. He is retired out of the Arizona State Prison system (employee – not inmate!).  He now spends most of his time riding his mule. When Al was up on top of that mule, the two became one. Now, as I say that, you must understand my meaning. Al and his mule operated as a single unit, but, quite truthfully, Dad and I never quite knew who was in charge, the mule or Al. After much consideration, we came to the conclusion that it was simply a cooperative system – sometimes Al was in charge and sometimes the mule was in charge. Whatever it was, it was an amazing thing to behold.

What an experience it was traveling with these two men and their mules. As you will see, Joshua and Al were, together and individually, another of those gifts from Heaven that happened to us so often on this trip.

After a good breakfast, we were loaded up and heading up the trail by 9:15am. As Daisy, the Quarter Horse had started showing signs of saddle sores on her withers, we decided to cut our gear and leave one pack saddle in Joshua’s trailer and pony Daisy bareback for a few days to let her heal up. We would retrieve the gear and a few more bags of feed when we exited the mountains at Joshua and Al’s end point.

We started up Monte Vista Trail. It started out as a pretty easy trail, but soon entered a series of switchbacks and a steady climb. We ascended more than 3,000 feet in a matter of about four-and-a-half miles. Most of the trail was well maintained, but there were several deadfalls we had to go around.

Ascending Monte Vista Peak looking south
Ascending Monte Vista Peak looking south

As we climbed higher, the views began to open up a bit, allowing us to catch sight of where we had been the previous days. It was quite the sense of achievement I felt, looking back over the hills, seeing in the far distance the areas we had come through. It was a strange sense I felt, which eventually became a familiar and welcome feeling. It was the emotion connected with the thought that I had been over there – not just that I had been there at one time or another, but that I had just come from over there on my horse, with my dad. It was a special feeling that is hard to describe, and it was entirely new to me as I looked out over those mountains, hills, and deserts.

Nearing the top of the shale slide
Nearing the top of the shale slide

As we neared the summit of Monte Vista Peak, we crossed and ascended a looooong sidehill that dropped off about half-a-mile below us. This mountainside was pure shale and very little vegetation grew on it. The shale was ankle deep when you stepped off the trail and a horse that stepped off the trail would soon find himself sliding downhill with a lot of the hillside sliding with him, and there just wasn’t anything to stop you until you hit the bottom. I found out just how dangerous this could be as we neared the top of this long slide and had our second near-disaster of the trip.

I had turned on my GoPro camera, on my chest-mount, to record some of this ascent (while it was quite impressive in person, the video doesn’t quite do it justice, as is almost always the case). However, the immensity of the scenery distracted me and I forgot I had turned it on. So, on a westerly tack on the switchback, I pulled my iphone out of my pocket to take a few photos. As I messed around with my phone, I lost the lead rope on Ranger, my lead pack horse (I was riding Lizzy). I couldn’t coax Ranger to come up to me to grab his lead rope, so I dismounted and started back toward him on foot.

For some strange reason, Ranger, who was packed with 200 pounds of horse feed, turned away from me and stepped downhill off the trail. As he did so, he immediately sank to his hocks in the shale and began to slide. I rushed to grab the lead rope, hoping to get his head turned back uphill before he dragged Daisy, tied behind him, down the hillside with him. I was able to catch the end of the lead rope and get Ranger’s head turned, but by this time he was fifteen feet below the trail and sliding still. The mare had also left the trail and was floundering, but she had no packs or weight on her.  I began to slide behind Ranger, but finally got his head around and got him facing back uphill. At this point Ranger turned and began struggling to get his footing, with me pulling his lead rope. The weight of the heavy packs on his back settled back and started to pull him over backwards. I watched in horror as his front hooves came out of the shale and lifted into the air, realizing that if I didn’t get his front feet back on the ground, he was a goner, and possibly the mare with him. He would have rolled until he hit the bottom, half-a-mile below us.

Pulling with all my weight, and setting my feet into the deep shale, I was able to counter the weight of the packs enough, and Ranger was strong enough, that he regained his balance and began to charge up the very steep hillside. I turned and scrambled up, using hands and feet, finally reaching the trail just ahead of Ranger and the mare.

It was an exciting few moments, but once again, we survived with no serious repercussions. It was another good “journal material” experience with no sad ending.

The good part was that I had forgotten about my GoPro video camera! It was running the whole time and picked up the whole incident, together with a long segment of the trail. You can see it here.

The view from the top of Monte Vista Peak
The view from the top of Monte Vista Peak looking west

Another mile or so saw us to the top of Monte Vista Peak. We stopped at the Ranger lookout tower there and let the horses rest and graze while we ate lunch. What a beautiful view from there. At 9223′ elevation, we could see in all four directions for what seemed like forever.

Just off the north side of Monte Vista Peak, we joined the Crest Trail. A forest fire had burned through the area a number of years before, a finger of which had nearly reached the top of the peak. The fire left much of the timber on the north side of the mountain dead. Much of the dead-standing timber had fallen, making travel on the trail a slow and difficult process. In the first mile we spent more time cutting and moving logs than we did traveling. It was in this area that the axe and limb saw I packed on my saddle paid for themselves. I wish I had gotten more photos in this area, but I was pretty busy hacking away at logs and trying to shift them out of the trail. Once we passed Raspberry Peak, however, things got easier and we made better time. We actually got out on the “crest” of the mountain range, which was like riding its spine. We had a spectacular view off both the eastern and western sides of the Chiricahua mountains at the same time.

Coming off the Painted Rock descent
Coming off the Painted Rock descent

At one point we came to a spectacular descent, at a place called Painted Rock. This descent on the Crest Trail comes down between two jagged, rock promontories (Painted Rock), descending several hundred feet in just a few lateral yards. The cut was so narrow and steep that part of our pack train was heading east on one switchback while I, in the middle, was on a western tack and tail-end Charlie (Dad) was on the eastern tack above me. I will never forget coming down through that cut. Absolutely thrilling!

Sadly, my GoPro ran out of battery about ten minutes before we arrived at the cut. I tried to get as much of it as I could with my iphone, but only caught just the lower part of it. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that the iphone video just doesn’t have the capability to show what that short segment of trail is really like. You can see it here.

Along this part of the Crest Trail, we got a steady west wind, blowing at 20-30 miles per hour, and it was cold! You might recall that I had lost my coat a while back and was clad only in a heavy wool shirt over my clothing. Surprisingly, that heavy wool shirt cut the wind pretty well an I stayed reasonably warm as we continued moving northward along the crest. As we approached Fly Peak, though, it was getting on toward evening and I was getting cold.

We crossed over onto the east side of Fly Peak, following a fork off the main trail, which got us out of the heavy winds. We came upon a small improved (capped) spring on the trail, which I believe may be Booger Spring, not sure. We watered the stock there and continued another couple hundred yards and made camp there on the eastern side of Fly Peak. The elevation was near 9300′.

My journal entry ends with this commentary:

[Begin journal entry]

We made 10.6 miles and camped on the east side of Fly Peak. It was a nice camp area with a capped spring about 1/4 mile before it on the trail. Being on the east side of the peak, we were out of the wind, but it was very cold.

That night most of our water froze. I didn’t sleep well, because I brought my light sleeping bag. It has proven inadequate, even for this part of the trail. I’ll need to have someone take my heavier bag to [a friend’s] place so I can pick it up when we get there.

We had no mishaps, despite the rough trail, except that one with Ranger on the hillside. The horses are starting to work well together.

[End journal entry]

Yessiree! It was cold that night and I didn’t get much sleep, but then, there we were, at 9300′, in the heart of the mountains with good people and good horses. It doesn’t get much better than that and it would take a lot more than the cold to dampen our spirits on this trip. Besides, my dog Clancy snuggled against me all night and helped keep the cold at bay.

During the day, we discovered that Dad had left one of his two-quart canteens back at the lookout tower on top of Monte Vista Peak. That was to become a real concern for us further along.

Day Seven coming up in a few days.

 

 

 

Good Stories, Great Western Trail, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Day Five!

As we left it last week, Dad and I had made camp on a small knoll about two miles west of Texas Canyon Road, Chiricahua National Monument, Arizona, on the fourth night of the first leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip.

The fifth day began as all the others did, with us waking up about 5:15am. We rolled out of bed, took care of our morning oblations, fed the horses, and Dad started cooking while I started breaking camp.  As usual, I set my solar panels up to catch as much sun as possible while we packed up for departure, in order to have battery for the cameras and GPS.

We had all the horses loaded up and ready to move by 9:00. As Dad was mounting Jimbo, he lost his balance and fell pretty hard. He shook it off and I held Jimbo while he got in the saddle. Dad got lined out with his pack animals and I went to bridle and mount Ranger. I got up into the saddle and was trying to get Lizzy and “that stupid mare” lined out when I just happened to notice something on the ground underfoot of my horses. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a smart-phone. I jumped off and picked it up, amazed that the horses hadn’t stepped on it. Of course, it was Dad’s phone, which had slipped out of his pocket when he went down. It was lucky I found it, and luckier that it hadn’t been smashed by a horse’s hoof. It was just another lucky break for us…or maybe it was another one of those little helps from above. We had a number of those kinds of things happen for us.

Scenery along Rucker Canyon Road
Scenery along Rucker Canyon Road

We were on the trail by 9:15am. We had a short uphill to climb, but after that we were moving pretty much downhill toward Texas Canyon Road. We hit the road before noon and headed north toward the North Fork of Rucker Canyon, following the dirt road.

Shortly after we hit Texas Canyon Road, we had our first near tragic wreck of the trip.

I had dismounted to open a gate to bypass a cattle guard. Before dismounting, I tied Lizzy’s lead rope to my saddle horn with a clove hitch, so I could lead Ranger through the gate with the pack horses following. This was a metal gate, rather than a barbed wire “gap”, like we normally ran into. I unchained the gate and opened it toward us, rather than away, without thinking. I swung it wide, then led Ranger through. As I led him through the gate, it swung back and caught Lizzy at the shoulder, right in front of her pack saddle, pinching her between the gate and gate post. Ranger, then, feeling the tug behind him, began pulling hard against the pressure. I finally saw what was happening and had started to pull Ranger back, when Lizzy began pulling back as well. Between the two of us pulling, Ranger’s front end came off the ground and he fell sideways to his left, toward the cattle guard. When he fell, his front left foreleg went into the cattle guard to above the knee, with his right front folded under him.

Scrape on Ranger's front left from the cattle guard
Scrape on Ranger’s front left from the cattle guard

I was still pulling back on Ranger’s lead rope, now from directly behind him, while Lizzy, still pinched in the gate, pulled from his left side. I held tight, fearing that if the lead rope, or saddle horn, or cincha, or anything else, were to break, Ranger would lunge forward and end up with all four legs into the cattle guard.

Suddenly, with both Lizzy and me pulling and Ranger struggling, he again started coming over backward, causing his left front leg to pull straight up and out of the cattle guard. Rather than falling over backward, though, he stood up on his hind legs and walked backward, relieving the pressure on Lizzy.

Then, as suddenly as it all started, it was over.

After calming the horses, I checked Ranger over carefully, and found he had scraped some hide off his front left foreleg, but there were no serious injuries. He could easily have broken his leg. Lizzy was uninjured.

Once again, thank you, Lord.

Lesson learned: Always open gates away from you!

Eating Beanie-Weenies with a wooden spoon
Eating Beanie-Weenies with a wooden spoon

Somewhere along the road, we stopped to give the horses a rest and took our lunch. Our usual lunch was beef jerky and a Cliff Bar, but on this day we had Beanie-weenies. With our eating utensils neatly packed away on a pack horse, we took the opportunity to engage in one of our very own Henrie family traditions: we made wooden spoons and ate our beanie-weenies with them. That tradition dates back to my very first mountain trail ride with Dad, while I was in high school. My brother and I were on a hunt trip with Dad in the Blue Wilderness Area in Arizona. We were riding our horses up out of the Blue on the Red Hills Trail (the trail, not the road). When we stopped for lunch, we had a can of Van Camp’s Pork and Beans, but nothing to eat it with. Dad used his pocket knife to open the can, then carved us a wooden spoon. Thus began the tradition. No Henrie can truly say he’s been wilderness camping until he/she has eaten beans with a hand-carved wooden spoon.

We arrived at our day’s destination about 3:00pm, after 13.6 miles, making exactly 50 miles from our starting point five days earlier. We picked out a campsite with plenty of grass and picketed the horses. There was a small corral in which we allowed Jimbo and Honey to graze. We set up our camp and relaxed awhile before our new riding companions arrived.

Camp at North Fork of Rucker Canyon
Camp at North Fork of Rucker Canyon

Josh Jensen and Al Smith arrived just an hour or so later with their mules. They were both pretty excited to be able to participate with us on this part of the ride.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, several months before, during the planning of our route, I advertised that anybody who wanted to ride with us for a portion of the trip was welcome to join us. Joshua answered the call and we began planning out the route through the Chiricahuas together. Lucky for us he and Al came along. Joshua happens to be a member of the US Border Patrol Mounted Patrol for the Safford District. Al Smith is his good friend, whom we invited to join us as well. Between the two of them, they know the trails in the Chiricahuas. Some of those trails have suffered from several major fires in recent years. Many of the trails are impassable, and some have disappeared entirely. Without the help of Joshua and Al, we never would have found our way through those mountains. Joshua was also able to track any USBP activities in the area and steer us clear of any drug trafficking and illegal alien groups passing through the area.

Additionally, with Joshua’s help, we were able to stage horse feed resupply points, without which we would have been helpless, as there was precious little grass in the Arizona desert areas we passed through between the border and Safford. We had left twelve bags of feed at Joshua’s house in Safford before the trip, which made for three feed resupply stops. We fed the last of the feed we had packed from the US/Mexico border that evening and the following morning. Joshua brought eight bags of feed in his truck. The plan was for us to load four bags to get us through the mountains. We would get the remaining four bags when we got to his truck as we emerged from the mountains, where he and Al were to leave us. We would resupply again at his house in Safford when we arrived there, packing out the last of the feed, which would get us into the higher elevations, where we expected to find sufficient grazing for the horses.

Joshua brought us something else that evening. As a “thank you” for us letting him and Al join us for the ride, he cooked up T-bone steaks, potatoes and cheese, and fetuchini, with brownies for desert. All cooked over an open fire (except the brownies), it was fabulous. Much better than the dehydrated meals we had been living on.

My journal for the day makes a couple comments I thought I would provide in their entirety:

[Begin journal comment]

As of today we have made 50 miles exactly.

Dad rode Jimbo today. Jimbo got a little excited a couple times, but Dad rode him out and after that Jimbo did great. He’s a good horse. Strong, sound, not a mean bone in him, and sure-footed. He’s doing better with his skittishness every day.

Ranger
Ranger

Ranger and Lizzy did well today. I sure enjoy Ranger. He and I are really bonding. I enjoy riding Lizzy, but Ranger is starting to act like I’m his herd leader. Even when he gets excited and runs off, he always returns and comes to me. I think he and I are going to enjoy a lot of miles together.

Daisy has a saddle sore coming up. We plan to pony her bareback for the next several days. We’ll leave her pack saddle in Joshua’s trailer and he’ll get it back to us on our rest day, Sunday.

[End journal comment]

Daisy's saddle sore starting
Daisy’s saddle sore starting

That evening, while tending the horses, I noticed that Daisy was developing a saddle sore high on her withers. We decided to let her go bareback for several days to let it heal up before it got worse. Due to the location of the sore, it was at this point that we began to think we were over-padding our pack saddles, which may have been what caused Daisy’s saddle sore. The following day we stopped using the extra saddle pad under my Phillips Formfitter pack saddles and happily discovered that our problems of the packsaddles moving and slipping on the horses ceased completely. After that day I don’t believe we ever had to stop to adjust another pack saddle for the rest of the trip.

Lesson learned: Don’t over-pad the Phillips Formfitter pack saddles. Our 3/4″ wool felt and canvas pack saddle pads was sufficient protection and using only those kept our packsaddles from moving around on the horse’s back.

Here are a couple short videos from Day Five I made on Texas Canyon Road.

Day six coming up next. Stay tuned.

 

Good Stories, Great Western Trail, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Day Four

To review a bit from my last entry about the first leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip last year, we left off with the end of Day Three and Dad and I camped in Half Moon Valley, just outside the Chiricahua National Monument.

The XPG Ultralight measures 20"X72"
The XPG Ultralight measures 20″X72″

After a good night’s rest, the cloudy weather having cleared up, we arose early. That was the first night we had a chance to try out our Cabela’s XPG Ultralight Extreme Performance Gear air mattresses under actual pack trip conditions. I have to say, they performed quite well and gave us a decent night’s sleep throughout the trip.  Still, they aren’t “Grandma’s Feather Bed”.  As we were sleeping out under the stars most nights, the daylight would wake us pretty early and there just wasn’t much sense or enticement for laying in bed any longer.

As became our habit, we fed the horses first-thing, then Dad started breakfast. Our cooking was done on a propane single-burner Coleman pack stove. This proved to be perfect for our needs and will be what we take for the remainder of our adventure. It is a very simple device, compact, and almost indestructible. We would heat water, in an aluminum pot, dump in the ingredients, let simmer until fully hydrated, then put on water for drinks while we began to eat. Didn’t take long to have a meal ready, eaten, and done with.

We had quite the menu. We had purchased a box of dehydrated home food storage meals from Walmart. The food was all self-contained in #10 cans, purported to be about 75 meals, which we broke up into separate freezer bags, so as to be able to pack it more easily.  We added some instant oatmeal and a couple dehydrated meals we had left over from previous trips, and the meal package included a couple luxury items, such as freeze-dried beef and strawberries.  So, our meal choices appeared, at first blush, to be quite varied and ample. However, we went through the varied part pretty quickly and ended up with three main meals: dehydrated vegetable stew, creamed corn, and hash browns and powdered eggs…or any mixture of these items to try to break up the monotony a bit. Our lunches were generally a bit of beef jerky and a Cliff bar. By the time we finished the trip, we had each lost about 20 pounds and were starved for some real food.

Breakfast on this day consisted of powdered eggs and hash browns, with a little freeze-dried beef pieces tossed in, with some hot chocolate and/or hot apple cider to drink. It wasn’t bad for a camp breakfast.

Breaking camp on Day Four
Breaking camp on Day Four

While Dad did the cooking, I set out my solar panels to charge batteries, started gathering up our gear, and packing manties. As I detailed in another post, this was a tedious and work-intensive operation. Every morning we had to sort our gear into about eight different piles, four for the manties, and four for the paniers. The paniers proved to be much easier, because we could actually store most of the gear in the paniers, so stuff we used during camp time was generally placed back in the same panier after we were done with it, so packing the paniers was a matter of putting the last several items in them. However, with the manties, we used the tarps for ground sheets and bed covers, so every evening the manties were completely undone, had to be reconfigured for balance, and repacked every morning.

Once they were packed, we used a pack scale to make sure they were within a couple pounds of each other. If they weren’t, we would have to unpack two of them to reconfigure them to proper weight, then do it again. Even though I became pretty good at it during the trip, and got faster at it, it was never something I looked forward to. Besides being time and effort consuming, I found tying up the manties really wore on my bare hands. The first few days my hands ached at night to the point I had a hard time going to sleep. After a week I began to develop calluses and tougher skin and it didn’t bother me so bad.

Ranger, my 16-hand Missouri Fox Trotter
Ranger, my 16-hand Missouri Fox Trotter
JImbo, my "free" mustang.
JImbo, my “free” mustang.

At some point during the packing, I stopped for breakfast, then continued packing. By the time I got the manties ready, Dad had the paniers packed and we got the pack animals loaded, the packs tied on and covered, and got started saddling the saddle horses. On this day I rode my big Fox Trotter paint, Ranger. Dad rode our mustang, Jimbo. We got out of camp and on our way about 9:15am, which was about average for us.

Several miles up the trail, we came to a point at which the map showed that Half Moon Valley trail turned almost directly westerly for a couple miles, then back northeast to join with another trail that then ran northeast for a ways to join Texas Canyon Road. We could see by the GPS and USGS maps that we could also turn north up High Lonesome canyon and go cross-country for about 1.5-2 miles and join another trail that would take us to Texas Canyon road, saving us about 4-5 miles. At four miles per hour average speed, you can see the shorter route made sense. Turned out to be a rough couple of miles. At the end of this post are links to three videos I shot during that short bushwhacking session. They are long and unedited, but shows the country we went through.

During this trip there were several things that happened that I firmly believe were providential. Dad and I both got the feeling, starting right with our planning and preparations, that we had help from the “other side” on a number of occasions. We seemed to have at least one such occurrence everyday of the trip. Being religious ourselves, it was easy to believe that we had a few of our forefathers riding along with us, cheering and helping us along the way. It was almost as if the Good Lord was rooting for us, two of the least of his children, trying to connect to our pioneer past. On this particular day, two of those things happened.

Filling canteens in the creek at High Lonesome Canyon
Filling canteens in the creek at High Lonesome Canyon
Filling canteens with a pump filter
Filling canteens with a pump filter

As we arrived at the cutoff we had decided to take up High Lonesome canyon, we found a clear, running stream there and took the opportunity to fill our canteens. We used Dad’s pump filter, which is a pretty slow operation for four two-quart canteens. While we were pumping water, I allowed Ranger, my 16-hand paint Fox Trotter, who was my saddle horse for the day, to wander and graze, along with Honey the mule. The rest of the stock we tied. Ranger, being the wanderer he is, tried to cross under the neck and leadrope of Dad’s little gelding, who was a pack horse for the day. They got tangled up and began to struggle. The branch Little Black was tied to broke, spooking both horses, and off they went, galloping over the hills in the distance. I could see all sorts of stuff trailing along behind Ranger and I was already thinking of all my expensive gear in his saddle bags and on his saddle, including my new binocs, my GoPro camera, my solar panels, an axe, camp saw… I just shook my head. Luckily, our spooky mustang, Jimbo, was Dad’s saddle horse for the day, and was tied (we had learned at least that much). I grabbed him up, jumped into the saddle and headed off to see if I could find the horses, which were long out of sight.

I hadn’t gone more than 50 yards, when I heard Ranger whinnie. I watched for a minute and located both Black and Honey, standing together several hundred yards up a hillside, in a little hollow. About the time I located them, I saw Ranger coming out of the trees heading back toward me. He approached at a hard trot, with my axe dragging behind, banging between his rear legs. I could only cringe as I envisioned the damage to his legs.

Ranger trotted up to me with a half-panicked expression (if horses really have those) on his mug that said, “Help me! I’m hung up!” I dismounted from Jimbo and caught Ranger’s lead rope and prepared for what I would find. I was astonished to find that when Ranger and Black got tangled up and started struggling, my axe, which had been hung on the saddle through a two-inch brass ring tied into the front saddle string, had gotten snagged in Black’s pack rigging. When Ranger tore loose, the saddle string broke, dropping the axe, which then became tangled in the bridle, which was hanging on the saddle horn. The bridle came loose, but remained suspended from the horn by the reins. The reins were long enough that the axe, tangled in the bridle, dragged the ground right between his hind legs. With all Ranger’s galloping around in sheer panic, the axe remained hung up in the bridle, banging around between Ranger’s hind legs, and the reins remained intact. The heavy leather axe cover had remained in place all that time and the rubber handle prevented any bruises or cuts to Ranger’s legs. My saddle bags were still in place, as was my camera and solar panels, which were tied behind the saddle.  In the end, the only item I lost from Ranger’s panicked breakaway was half of a saddle string. Even the brass ring was still on the axe. What a relief. After leading him back to where Dad was finishing up with the canteens, I went after Black and Honey. They waited patiently for me and came without a problem. I checked them over and it appeared we had lost nothing from their packs.

Thank you, Lord.

It wasn’t until that night that I discovered my heavy Carhart coat, that was stashed in a panier on Honey, was missing. Oh well. I’m sure it will be well received and used by whoever finds it. Interestingly, or maybe providentially, at camp that evening, we found an insulated vest someone had left, which got me through some pretty cold mornings and evenings as we crossed through the Chiricahuas.

The second thing for which I credit providential intervention happened while we were traversing from Half Moon Valley trail up through High Lonesome canyon. I’ll let the videos speak for themselves, as far as describing the country. Although one cannot get the true perspective of the angles and steepness of the hillsides we were traversing, at least you can see the country. I decided to try my chest mount for the GoPro camera for the first time. I had no opportunity to try it previous to that point, so I had no idea how it would turn out. Turned out I mounted the camera improperly and it was nearly disastrous for me.

After passing through some extremely difficult and steep terrain for over a mile, we stopped to rest the animals. I looked down to turn off my camera and it wasn’t there. Here we were in the first week of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip and I had lost our video camera, in which I had invested over $1,000. I can’t express how upset I was with myself. As I thought back over the trail, I quickly realized that my chance of going back over our trail and finding it was about one-in-a-million. I couldn’t figure out, for the life of me, how the camera had come off the mount. I was pretty down-in-the-mouth, as they say.

Heading toward Texas Canyon Road after passing through High Lonesome
Heading toward Texas Canyon Road after passing through High Lonesome

I looked all around myself, the saddle, and the surrounding area, then dismounted. I was standing by my horse, telling Dad I had lost the camera, when I heard a “plop”. I looked down and there was the camera at my feet. How it got there I did not know, but I sent up a prayer of gratitude right then. After we finished the ride and I had a chance to actually view the video recording, I discovered what had happened. I had improperly installed the camera on the chest mount, missing the hole with the mounting bolt, so that the camera was only held in the mount by friction. Just before we stopped for rest, the camera hit the saddle horn, as I leaned under a branch while going uphill. The camera fell off the mount and ended up falling between my canteen and the horse, where it became lodged, and hidden, until I dismounted and moved the canteen. You will see all that happen in the videos.

Thank you, Lord.

We only made 9.4 miles that day, having passed through some very tough terrain and steep elevation changes, as we made our way toward Texas Canyon Road.  The sun was setting when we picked out a decent campsite on a small knoll, about two or three miles west of Texas Canyon Road. We passed a pond about a quarter-mile before stopping, so the horses were well-watered. The fourth video below is one I made at that campsite as we cared for the horses and made camp (it was posted on a previous blog post as well). It was a very long and tough day for us, despite the low mileage recorded for the day.

We enjoyed a restful evening under the stars on a clear, cold night on a small knoll in the middle of nowhere. Ahhh! That’s what it’s all about!

Stay tuned for Day 5 and next week.

Great Western Trail, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Days Two and Three

For the next installment of our travel log of the first leg of our Mexico-to-Canada trip, I’ll cover days two and three. We had originally planned to take rest days on Sundays and one weekday. As things turned out, we were behind schedule from the start, so we eliminated the weekday rest, but our Sundays were spent in rest, relaxation, and thanksgiving.

This first Sunday of our trip was particularly restful, not only for us, but for Clancy and the horses as well. It allowed us all to recoup our strength and recover from muscle soreness of the first day’s exertions. We hadn’t intended to stay Sunday at the Bar-M Ranch, but when we woke up on Sunday morning, it was raining outside. We were glad for the blessing of having been able to spend a restful night in beds in the Bar-M bunkhouse.

Shortly after Dad and I got out of bed, Jesus dropped by with breakfast for us, compliments of Araceli. It just doesn’t get any better than that for a 3,000-mile horse pack trip! We asked Jesus if we could stay over another night. He acted like he was surprised we would even ask and replied that of course we could stay.

Dad relaxing at the Bar-M
Dad relaxing at the Bar-M

Dad and I spent the day just relaxing. We held a short religious service, to thank the Lord for having blessed us to be able to make this trip as father and son, and to ask for his continued help and blessing. Clancy spent most of his day just laying at my feet. He was pretty sore and tired from yesterday’s mileage. The pads on his feet weren’t as tough as they might be, since most of his life prior to the trip had been spent in places with grass and mud, rather than rocks and cactus.

We learned from Jesus that the ranch was owned by a family named Keifer or Cafer. It comprises over 40 sections of deeded land. The family also owns several other ranches in Arizona and New Mexico. We were appreciative of the generosity of the ranch in allowing us to cross their land, using their facilities, and staying in their bunkhouse. This stop, after our first day of the trip, was truly a blessing to us. It made a lot of difference to us going forward. Without that day of rest, I’m not sure Clancy would have been able to make the rest of the trip. The generosity and warmth shown us by Araceli and Jesus was truly a breath of fresh air in our day and age, here in the United States.

Bar-M Ranch, northeast of Douglas, AZ
Bar-M Ranch, northeast of Douglas, AZ

By the end of the day, the weather cleared up. The horses looked good and Clancy had recovered and didn’t appear to be sore anymore. That evening Jesus dropped by and brought some cookies for us. He passed on Araceli’s goodbyes and told us he and she both would be leaving early in the morning. Araceli had to head back into Douglas for work and he would be heading to another ranch to look after about 800 yearling calves that required some work. We said our goodbyes and settled-in for another restful evening.

The following is from my journal for Day Three (Monday) of our trip. I was already starting to lose track of time, as my journal has the date as Tuesday, April 13. I wrote the entry on the morning of Tuesday, April 14, 2015:

04/13/15   Tuesday   Half Moon Valley, Chiricahua Mountains, Arizona

Leaving the Bar-M ranch
Leaving the Bar-M ranch

We made 16.5 miles yesterday. No major mishaps. Horses are getting settled-in and becoming trail-wise. We passed through some tough country with the ground covered with volcanic rock and thickets of mesquite and catclaw. We were very glad to have good, heavy chaps.

We made the 4-5 miles to highway 80 around 2pm and were trying to find our way through the fence, when Jesus drove by on his way back to the Bar-M. He stopped and talked a bit and let us know we had missed the only open (unlocked) gate for several miles (actually we had hit the fence line probably a quarter mile east of the gate and turned the wrong direction. He told us there was no other open gate heading west for many miles). We decided to lower the fence where we were and travel along the highway shoulder to Rucker Canyon Road. It was providential that Jesus met us there, because farther along, the fence had been rebuilt and we would have had a tough time with it. [Jesus had another ranch hand with him and they helped us lower the fence and stood on the wires while we got the horses across.

Traveling alongside I-80, just west of Boss Ranch Road
Traveling alongside I-80, just west of Boss Ranch Road

At that point the fence was quite old and the wires were loose. We simply unclipped the ties with our fence tools, lowered the wires, had Jesus and his hand stand on the wires while we crossed, then retied the fence wires to the posts, leaving it in better condition than before. About a half mile further on, the fence had been newly rebuilt and the wires were “high and tight” and would have been nearly impossible for us to cross it. We passed several gates along the way, but they were all we padlocked.]

We crossed the fence, said our goodbyes to Jesus and headed on. A bit later we had to re-set the pack saddle on Daisy. While doing that, Jimbo spooked and ran off, with Ranger tied in tow, and Daisy and Lizzy following (we were left standing by the fence with Black and Honey). It looked bad for us, but they stopped about 100 yards away and [when I approached them] Ranger came to me. I got them all caught up and we walked back to where Dad was. We got everything settled and went on. That was the only mishap we had yesterday.

Jimbo is getting more confident and trusting and less skittish every day. He’s going to be a great trail horse.

Joel Tanner and Cody Winn, USBP Agents at Boss Ranch Road
Joel Tanner and Cody Winn, USBP Agents at Boss Ranch Road

A couple miles along, we came upon Boss Ranch Road. We found an unlocked gate there, so we decided to cross teh highway. It was a good decision. Just after we closed the gate, two USBP agents, pulling a horse trailer, stopped to talk. One was Joel Tanner, whom we met at the border (he was one of the two who stopped by our camp on Day One), and the other was Cody Winn. Cody was able to give us some instruction on the best trail for us to get up into Rucker Canyon. We took his advice and ended up in Half Moon Valley to camp.

We passed Boss Ranch and got permission to cross his range. He wasn’t happy about it at first, but warmed up to us after a few minutes (he was concerned about our stock transmitting disease to his stock. After I assured him we had current health certificates and were not from the area, he relaxed a bit and gave us permission to pass).

Clancy kept up well and showed no foot soreness. I put booties on him as we left the ranch, but they seemed to bother him, so I removed them. Turned out he never needed them. Once we got camp set up and laid our beds out, Clancy settled down right between us and never moved again the rest of the night.

Camp at Half Moon Valley
Camp at Half Moon Valley

Dad slept like a log, but I had a lump right under my back that made it hard to sleep. I decided that I’ll take my heavier sleeping bag once we get to Eagar. I didn’t get cold, but cool enough to keep me awake at times.

All the horses are well. No sore feet, no sore backs. Our gear is performing well. The DeLorme Explorer is posting to our website as it should.

My Phillips Formfitter pack saddles are doing well, but you really have to make sure the manties are packed well and are exactly the same weight and loaded exactly the same way, or the saddle will turn. We had to re-set Daisy’s saddle, packed with 100 pounds of feed each side, four times yesterday. It turned on her three times. Luckily, she was calm and did not react. We also had to re-set Ranger’s, packed with 50 pounds of feed each side twice, but his didn’t turn, just started leaning. I don’t think that would be such a problem if the saddle bars were fixed, rather than able to swivel. However, the value is in that they can adjust to the horse’s back – so they fit about any conformation – and they move as the horse moves. We have had no sore backs even with heavy loads. (Note: we found later that the Phillips Formfitter saddles were turning due to the extra saddle pad we had put under them. Once we removed the extra pad, they stopped moving on the horses’ back. The problem was not the saddles, but that we had over-padded them.)

My solar panels set out to charge my iphone
My solar panels set out to charge my iphone

The GoalZero solar chargers work well. We have been setting them up to charge in the mornings. I have been afraid to mount them on the pack horses for fear of losing or breaking them (our original thought was to mount them on top of the packs on the pack horses, so that they were charging our gear throughout the day, but we had been passing through some pretty dense thickets and it seemed unwise to try it).

I have been using the GoPro Hero 4 Silver camera to record portions of our ride, but have only used the hand-held extension (selfy staff) as a mount. I don’t see the value in mounting it on my head or chest, because we wouldn’t get anything but what’s ahead of me and nothing of ourselves or pack train. I have resisted the temptation to mount it on a pack saddle for the same reason as the solar panels. maybe later on, when we are better settled on the trail.

Had some cell coverage yesterday. Joshua [Jensen] said he and Al [Smith] will meet us Wednesday, rather than Tuesday, so he can get better prepared. That will give us a rest day tomorrow. Today I think we will only need to make about ten miles or less, so it shouldn’t be a tough day. Hope not, anyway.

Day Four coming up.

(End of journal entry)

Again, I had lost track of the days. This was written on the morning of Tuesday, April 14. Joshua and Al met us in Rucker Canyon the following evening.

Just for interest, those of you who are readers of Louis L’Amour western novels (as my dad and I are) will recognize some of the names of places we passed through during this portion of the trip from the novel, High Lonesome. We camped in Half Moon Valley on Monday night and passed through High Lonesome Canyon the following day, drawing water for our canteens from the creek that flows through it. You’ll see some videos of that area with my next post.

I failed to mention a couple things that happened during that day that were significant to us. The route from the Bar-M to I-80 was cross-country. There was no road that went the direction we needed. We just headed out across the low, rolling hills. Being ranch land, fences are a fact of life. Most of the fences we came across were old enough that we were able to find places where they were down, where we crossed. One fence we crossed under in a dry creek bed, where we were able to lift the wires high enough for the horses to pass under. Others we took down, passed over, then repaired the fence. We took with us fencing tools and several bags of fence clips. We always made sure to leave the fence in better condition than we found it in. Each time we had to cross a fence it cost us 15-20 minutes and brought with it the risk of the horses getting tangled up with each other and in the fence. It also meant Dad and I had to dismount and remount, tie the horses, keep them from getting tangled up, and work on the fence. Being a couple old farts, that was significant additional labor to us, what with our heavy chaps and all. Crossing fences was a real headache.

I mentioned that we passed through thickets of mesquite and catclaw. Catclaw is commonly known as “wait-a-minute” bush. It grows about four to six feet tall and is covered in thorns that look exactly like cat claws. The horses’ coat offers some protection for them, but even they try to avoid the stuff. For us, the thorns grab, then break off in the skin, which then gets infected like a sliver. We were both very grateful for our heavy batwing chaps. The mesquite thickets are just as bad, except that they grow much taller than the catclaw. The mesquites had needle-sharp thorns about two inches long. I even had a couple of these penetrate my chaps. We saved some of these for tooth picks. Pushing our way through some of these thickets, too large to go around,  was tough work. We stayed to stream beds (called “washes” to westerners) as much as we could, when they headed the right direction, but even that was tough going.

Here’s a short video of the area south of I-80. Here’s one of the area north of I-80 , on Boss Ranch Road, heading into the Chiricahuas.

Most of the land down there where we were crossing is volcanic. Even where the land is relatively flat, it is very tough on the horses, due to the fist-sized volcanic rocks that cover the ground. It wasn’t so bad once we got into the Chiricahuas, but we were lucky to get past those first two days of travel without laming a horse.

Stay tuned for more.

 

 

 

Great Western Trail, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Posted a couple new videos to my youtube channel…

I just posted a couple new videos to my youtube channel (it’s under “Tony Henrie”).

The first is a blurb about our experience on the trail with regard to horse packing with both Decker-style pack saddles and manties and with the traditional crossbuck pack saddles and paniers, sometimes called Utah Paniers.

We found manties to be more versatile when packing odd-shaped items or a lot of odds and ends, but we found them to be a lot of extra work in comparison to using paniers. Our choice for the style of packing we do:  Paniers and crossbucks.  Our Decker pack saddles are configured to use either paniers or manties.

The video was taken about 19 days into the trip. We were near the Double-C Ranch, south of Clifton, Arizona in an area they call the Black Hills.

Link:  https://youtu.be/bScARJuW-zc

The second video is a short view of a steep portion of the Crest Trail in the Chiricahua Mountains, coming down through the Painted Rock passage. The video really doesn’t give much of a true perspective on just how steep that section of trail was. Keep an eye on how short the switchbacks are. The grandeur of the view off both sides of the Chiricahuas from the range’s own backbone was really something to see. I had to take the video with my iphone6, because my GoPro Silver ran out of battery about ten minutes before we descended this section.

This was about Day-6 of our trip. Many thanks to our guides, Joshua Jensen and Al Smith. We never would have made it through the Chiricahuas without their help.

Link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQOxxNXNplQ

I have been reviewing and preparing to edit the all the video footage from our trip. This is not going to be an easy project. I expect it will be easier once I figure the software out. I’m also finding it hard to edit the videos. I just want to watch it all!  Even the slow, boring parts hold meaning and excitement for me. Don’t worry. I’ll cut them down to a reasonable size and still catch all the best parts.

Stay tuned.