Tag Archives: horse trails

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Day 19, Double C Ranch to Clifton

Day 19 for us was a difficult one for us. On this day we came very close to having to put a horse down.

We made camp the night before at a waterhole near the Double C Ranch, in the Black Hills, between Clifton and Safford, Arizona. This area is extremely rough terrain, not so much in the form of canyons and mountains, but in the form of volcanic rock for ground cover. We were lucky to have been able to follow a power line service road through the mountain behind us, because cross country travel would have been nearly impossible on horses. In fact, we had to leave the road once, as we made our way to a cattle watering trough and found it to be extremely slow and careful going. Had we not re-shod the horses the day before, we would have been in real trouble.

On the Black Hills Scenic Byway
On the Black Hills Scenic Byway

On Day 19, however, we were on a dirt road, the old Clifton Highway, now known as the Black Hills Scenic Byway. It is a well-maintained road with little traffic, but it winds up and down and round and round through the Black Hills and seems to go on forever. We found several stock watering tanks, however, so that was nice. We had to watch those, though, because several of them were infested with bees. I’m pretty sure Ranger got a sting on the nose while drinking at one, because he has been scared of metal troughs ever since.

Several miles up the road, a fellow stopped to talk. He was Rocky Menuz, who owns the Double C Ranch. We had elected not to ride up to his ranch the night before, not wanting to bother anyone. It seems some of the ranchers are leery of strange horses, because of communicable equine diseases. Rocky, however, was disappointed we hadn’t called on him. He is a former municipal judge in Clifton. He was raised in the area, his father having founded the ranch many years ago. He knows everybody. What a nice man. He invited us to come back and visit him. He also told us where we would find water along our route.

Grazing in the Gila Box
Grazing in the Gila Box

We finally descended out of the east side of the mountains in the early afternoon. As we reached the valley floor, the terrain softened and we found a very nice grass pasture. We took a lunch break and let the horses graze for an hour or so. It was a nice rest for all of us.

A few hundred feet farther along, we entered the Gila Box Conservation Area. We continued on down the road and came to a ranch a short distance from the Gila River. We met Mr. Menges, who owns the ranch. He gave us some directions for our passage across Highway 191 and on up into the mountains east of Clifton. Turns out there just wasn’t any way to cross that area by trails. We were going to be following dirt roads until we got up into the mountains again. As it was getting late in the day, we asked about water and places to camp on up the road a few miles. He gave us directions to one of his stock tanks a few miles farther up and gave us permission to camp there. He said there was a large covered water tank there, with an access hole on one side, through which we would be able to get clean water for our canteens.  We thanked him and headed on down the road.

Another mile along, we came to a cattle guard on the road where the road was cut out of a sidehill. The stock gate was on the downhill side, where the sidehill had been washed out by the water running through the cattle guard. It was Dad’s turn to get the gate, so he dismounted and led “that stupid mare”, Daisy, through, with his gelding, Black, and the mule, Honey, following. They made it through with no trouble, after a short scramble back up to the road. As I came through, leading Ranger and Jimbo, however, Ranger’s right side pack hit the gatepost, causing him to stumble and nearly go down in the washout. He scrambled back up, but he had Jimbo pigtailed to his pack. About the time he started scrambling, Jimbo’s pack also hit the gatepost and down he went with Ranger tugging on his lead. Jimbo scrambled back to his feet and made it back up to the road, but his pack saddle was listing a bit to the left and his saddle pad was sliding out the back.

About 50 yards down the road we stopped to re-settle Jimbo’s pack. With nothing to tie to, I just dropped the leads of Lizzy and Ranger and went back to work on Jimbo. Dad dismounted from Daisy and tied her to a nearby road sign, with Black and Honey tied to her. Dad and I dropped the packs from Jimbo’s pack saddle and had just started to work on his pack saddle, when all hell broke loose.

That stupid mare, Daisy, trying to grab some grass, tugged on her lead, which was tied to the road sign. That caused the road sign to rock back and forth. Daisy must have thought that sign was about to get her, because she pulled back, pulling the sign right out of the ground! When that happened, Jimbo spooked and started to run down the road away from the ruckus, taking Lizzy and Ranger with him. Meanwhile, that stupid mare was backing right toward the steep sidehill, dragging Black and Honey with him.

I let my horses go and started after Daisy. I tried to calm her as I chased her, but the faster I ran, the faster she backed away. Keep in mind that she was dragging the road sign along in front of her as she backed down the road and it was banging her front legs, with two scared pack animals in tow. Once she realized she was about to back off a near cliff, she corrected and started to back straight down the road…right toward the cattle guard. It didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t going to catch up with her before the three horses hit the cattle guard.

At that point I did the only thing I could do. I dropped into a crouch and prayed, “Oh Lord, please help us!”

I watched in horror as Daisy backed Black and Honey right out onto the cattle guard. I was amazed to see that both Black and Honey were actually standing on the cattle guard and hadn’t fallen through. Daisy had backed one rear hoof onto the cattle guard, and it went through, so she pulled it back out and stopped. I caught her then, grabbing her lead rope and pulling her forward to allow Black and Honey to move off the cattle guard.

I was able to get her to move forward just a step or two, which allowed Black to move forward. He took one step and his front right went through. He jerked it up, but his right rear slipped through the cattle guard. By this time he had both fronts on solid ground. He jerked his right rear up and out and immediately his left rear slipped through the last rail. He lunged forward and fell. He just laid there. I was absolutely certain he had broken his leg.

By that time, Dad caught up with us. I told him, while I worked to untie the sign from Daisy’s lead rope, that I was afraid Black had broken his leg and we would have to put him down. Suddenly, Black lunged to his feet, standing on all fours. He came up with his head under the hind quarters of Daisy, with his lead rope all wrapped around her, nearly lifting her off the ground. We scrambled to free the lead ropes and get the dang road sign out of the way, and were able to allow Black to slip out from under Daisy.

All three were shaken and upset, but it appeared there were no serious injuries. What a relief. We carefully inspected all three animals and found that Daisy had a scrape on her leg and a cut on the back of her left rear hoof, where she had jerked her hoof out of the cattle guard. Black had similar scrapes and cuts on both his rear hooves, but none of these were serious enough for concern. Black, however, was favoring his left rear and it appeared he had twisted his fetlock joint. It immediately started to swell, but he could walk on it.

Meanwhile, in all this confusion, Honey, simply tiptoed off the cattle guard with no problem at all.  She had not a scratch on her. That’s a mule for you.

We got Daisy and Black settled down and checked over, then turned out attention to the other three horses that had run off down the road.  There they were, standing in the road about 200 yards away, all three side-by-side, heads up, ears perked, looking at us like they were very concerned about their traveling mates. They let me walk right up to them. While Dad led his horses, I gathered mine up and we got off on to a side road, where we could work on Jimbo’s pack saddle and get him loaded back up without blocking the main road.

Dad and I were both physically drained as the adrenalin eased off. We were tired and shaky after the event, and very grateful for our good fortune in what might have been a true disaster. Prayers of thanks were offered. After re-packing Jimbo, we mounted up and continued on our way. Black’s rear fetlock swelled, but seemed to go down and become less painful as we went along. He did not limp or favor it, so we felt confident in continuing. We gave him some of Daisy’s bute that evening in his feed (another providential blessing that traced back to our friendly lost dogs back on the Gila River).

We passed two nice camp grounds right on the Gila River, but horses were prohibited in both.

About another half mile, we came to another cattle guard. This one had no stock gate at all! It was unbelievable to us that in cattle country the state would make a cattle guard with no way to get livestock around it at all! So, we did what any self-respecting horse packers would do. We headed back into the nearby campground and found our way up a wash behind it, to that same fence line, and we lowered the fence. After crossing all the horses, we re-attached the fence and left it as good as before. In order to get back to the road, however, we had to climb some bluffs that were steep, but not too high. Once back on the road, we went about another three miles and located the stock tank Mr. Menges had directed us to. It was a fine sight for us after a hard day.

We watered our horses at the trough, then looked around us. There was absolutely nothing growing in the area but greasewood bushes. Nothing to tie our horses to for the night. We ended up tying a loose bowline around the bases of several greasewoods, tethering the horses by their front left pastern. It took a little getting used to for them, but after a few slight tangles and tugs they figured it out. Ranger gave us a humorous moment. While he was looking for grass, he turned around several times, effectively hog tying himself with his stake rope. Then he simply tipped over. No big fuss or struggle, just tipped over. Dad got over to him and untangled him before he got upset. All the animals were fine the rest of the night. We fed them a good helping of Equidyne in their nosebags.

Phelps-Dodge mine at night
Phelps-Dodge mine at night

By this time it was dark. We enjoyed the view of the Phelps-Dodge mine at night, with all its lights.  What a marvel of engineering that place is. There were plenty of stars overhead as well. It was a peaceful evening.

Dad and I ate our usual re-hydrated corn chowder and hit the sack. The excitement of the near-disaster had completely drained us and we slept soundly. We made 16.8 miles that day.

 

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

We’re down to the “brass tacks…”

Well, we’re getting down to the proverbial “brass tacks.”

In six days I will load up my horses and gear and head for Arizona. I have a number of things I still have to get done this week, but we’re about there.

Dad and I would like to re-open the same offer we made last year:  Anyone who would like to ride with us for any portion of the ride is welcome to join up with us for a day, for several days, or any portion of the trip. The one condition is that if you plan to join us for more than a couple days, you will need your own pack animal and supplies.

Last year we had Joshua Jensen and Al Smith join up with us as we made our way through the Chiricahua Mountains and their help was indispensable to us. We would never have made it through the Chiricahuas without their guidance.  They also made it possible for us to get through some nearly disastrous difficulties as we passed through the Safford, AZ area. We will be forever grateful to Al and Josh.

Thanks also to Jesus and Araceli, who gave us a place to stay and keep our horses at the Bar M Ranch on our first night, to the Pattons, who brought us a bale of hay at our camp on the Gila River, and to all the other folks who have pitched in to help us during our preparations and during the trip. Thanks also to my son, Nate, and to the Sniders, who both donated funds to help us out last year.

Thanks to Anna Halford, who made a horse pack trip across South America, for her kind donation to this year’s trip, and also to my best life-long friends, Dan and Jackie Graber for their donation to the cause. Jackie also hand made beaded hat bands for Dad and me to decorate our hats for the trip.

Also thanks to Aaron LeSueur and Dick and Jean Goodman for their help and support with our transportation needs last year. Thanks also to Dick and Jean for putting us up for a couple days as we passed through the Blue Wilderness Area.

This year, Gwen Kahler has offered her place near Flagstaff, Az as a stopover place for us. We will rest a couple days at her place, while we get new health certificates on the horses (so they will be current for our passage through the Grand Canyon National Park), have the horses re-shod, if necessary, and purchase a few supplies.  Gwen will then ride with us for a few days, as we head on north toward the Grand Canyon. We appreciate her help very much and look forward to meeting her in person.

Kelly and Tina LeSueur (my sister) are planning to meet us at the Grand Canyon National Park, to assist us with resupply and logistics as we prepare for our passage through the Grand Canyon. Thanks very much for your help. Wish you were going with us.

Thanks to Cyndie Edelblute, my sister, who has cheered us on all the way.

For our ride this year, we will be departing on Dad’s 82nd birthday, May 23, 2016, from my pasture at 217 N. Poverty Flat Road, Eagar, AZ, 85925. We expect to start making tracks around 10:00 am.  Anybody who would like to ride with us a few miles and give us a good sendoff is more than welcome.

From there we will head westward, through town, and head out on State Route 260 toward the White Mountains. We will generally follow that route until we find USFS 117, which we will follow past Green’s Peak, keeping north of the White Mountain Apache Reservation. We will make our way westward, following various Forest Service roads to get to Show Low. We will then follow the Rim Road past Show Low and eventually join the Mogollon Rim Trail/High Line Trail. We will follow that westward until we join the Arizona Trail near Washington Park. We will follow the Arizona Trail northward past Flagstaff, stopover at Gwen’s place, then head on to the Grand Canyon National Park.

We have reserved a campsite at Mather Campground, at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, from June 25 through July 2. We have GCNP Back Country Permits for two nights, June 29-30, for our passage through the Grand Canyon. We will descend the South Kaibab Trail, spend a night at Bright Angel Campground (equine camp), then ascend the North Kaibab Trail and spend a night at the North Rim Campground, before heading north on the Arizona Trail to the Utah border.

From the Utah border we will head north, crossing US 89 where it makes a big northerly jog east of Kanab. We will follow that canyon north until we join Paria River, which we will continue to follow northward until we get near Canonville. We will take Willis Creek westward toward Bryce Canyon. We hope to be able to cross through Bryce Canyon, if we can make arrangements with the park service once we arrive, however, failing that, we will take the Grand View Trail around the south end of Paunsaugunt Plateau and on around to Red Canyon. We will make our way over to Casto Road, which we will follow up to Panguitch, Utah.

Panguitch, where Dad was born and raised, is our goal for this year. We expect to arrive there about July 20 or so, just in time to ride in their Pioneer Day parade. Dad will also plan to attend the 64th Panguitch High School reunion for the class of 1952.

As for mileage and time frames, we estimate 150 miles from Eagar to the junction with the Arizona Trail, another 220 miles from there to the Grand Canyon South Rim, 34 miles from there to the GCNP border, and about 66 more miles to the Arizona/Utah border. We estimate about another 150 miles from there to Panguitch, making a total of about 620 miles. We expect the trip to take us about eight to nine weeks, traveling about 15 miles per day and five days per week.

We expect to make the Show Low area in three days. We should make the Arizona Trail junction about June 5. We should make Gwen Kahler’s place at Flagstaff by about June 16. We have reserved an equine camp space at Mather Campground, as I said, from June 25 through July 2. We hope to arrive there about June 25, giving us a bit of a buffer and respite before making the canyon passage on June 29-30. Those dates at GCNP are the only hard dates for the entire trip. From there we expect to make Bryce Canyon by about July 14 and Panguitch by about July 20. Except for the portion of the trip on the Arizona Trail, for which the mileage is actually measured, we have added a 25% buffer to our mileage estimates.

Last year, we had planned to attempt to make it from the US/Mexico border to Eagar, AZ as a “shake-out” trip, and, if all was well when we made Eagar, to continue on to Panguitch. By the time we made Eagar, however, we knew we would not be making the second leg of the trip. We started the trip later than we wanted, because of some unavoidable delays, then pushed harder than we wanted, in order to try to make up time. Regardless, we ended up averaging only 15 miles per day. We did 355 miles in 28 days, traveling 6 days per week. The trail was about 50 miles longer and took a week longer than we had estimated.

This year we feel a lot better prepared for the trip in a lot of ways. We feel we have a better selection of horses for the trip and we have pared down our gear selection to what we absolutely know we will need. We will have only four horses with us this time, rather than six, so handling the stock will be much less of a chore. Most of all, we feel we have a much better feel for planning our travel mileage and time. Most of our trail will be on the Arizona Trail, rather than making our own trail, so we are much better able to plan for mileage, camps, water, etc. There is little worry about crossing private property and our planning is much more accurate.

This year we plan on averaging 15 miles per day and traveling five days per week, rather than 6. We have planned for a mid-week rest day, in addition to our regular Sunday rest, which should keep our horses in better shape and make the trip easier on Dad and me physically. It will also make it so we can make up time, if necessary, by omitting the mid-week rest day on occasion.

We expect to find much better grazing for the horses through most of this year’s route, as compared to last year’s passage through the low desert areas of southern Arizona. We also expect most of this year’s route to be much easier traveling. Most of the trail will be better maintained than what we traveled last year, as well, which should help, and there will be fewer extreme changes in elevation. Last fall and winter the weather provided some much-needed moisture throughout northern Arizona and southern Utah, so we expect water to be less of a concern for us. We are starting later in the year, which will be hotter, but will also provide better availability of grass for our horses, which will allow us to carry less feed with us.

As we did last year, we will be posting regular updates on the website and facebook during the trip via satellite. Our followers will be able to keep track of our progress by clicking on the “Map” link on the main menu of the website.

Overall, we believe the hardest part of our trip is behind us. This leg of our big pack trip is the trip Dad and I have talked about for more than forty years. The “Crown Jewel” of this trip will be our crossing through the Grand Canyon on our own horses. This is something we have talked dreamed about since I was in high school. We almost attempted the trip 34 years ago, but life got in the way. We are finally going to be able to do it. We both feel it is somewhat of a miracle in both our lives that we are both in a position to be able to do this while we are both healthy and strong – together.

I am thankful for a father who raised me up with a love of the pioneer life, horses, and all that goes with that. I am grateful for a true pioneer heritage, forefathers who crossed the plains in wagons and settled much of the western United States. I am thankful for my wonderful mother, who actually brought horses into our family when I was young. I am grateful for my excellent wife, who has supported and helped me in preparing for and making this trip. What a marvelous thing it is that all these things have come together at this time to allow Dad and me to make this trip.

This is our chance to join with our pioneer heritage, to live some of their life,  experience some of what they experienced, to be, at least in a small part, what they were.

This is my gift to my dad.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

 

 

Great Western Trail, Horse Health, Western Trails

Days 16-18 – Camp at the Gila River

At the end of my last post, Dad and I had arrived at the Gila River, just a bit north of the small town of San Jose, Arizona. We arrived on a Saturday evening, after having made nearly 20 miles on a late start that day. Poor Clancy was very foot-sore, so I had carried him on my saddle much of the day. We arrived at the river, at a place called Diversion Dam, which, as the name indicates, was near an irrigation diversion dam. We crossed the river, very shallow at that point, and made camp in a small sandy area on the north side of the river.

It was becoming pretty obvious, by the gathering clouds, that we were going to get rain that evening, so after unsaddling and unpacking the horses, and caring for them, Dad and I stacked our gear and covered it in preparation for the moisture.  We then had our dinner of re-hydrated corn chowder. After dinner we selected a decent  sleeping area, laid out our bedding, and covered it with a plastic tarp.

Camp on the Gila River

Now, that plastic tarp had been pretty ill-used, having been the cover over the pack of our mustang, Jimbo, who had gotten it hooked up in a barbed wire fence early in our trip. Still, it was better than nothing. By the time we got our bedding prepared, it was after dark and we were both absolutely exhausted. With Clancy already asleep between our sleeping bags, Dad and I pulled our cover canvas up over our heads and passed out.

About 3:30am, I awoke with water dripping directly onto my face. It was raining, a nice light, steady rain. I crawled out of my sleeping bag in my skivies and tugged and pulled and tightened lines, and finally was able to redirect all the drips so that they fell on our bedding where it would run off without soaking us. I was cold and wet and by the time I slid back into my bag, I was shivering. As I got back in bed, however, out of the corner of my eye I saw something dash by the foot of our bed. I looked, thinking Clancy had gotten up with me. I growled at him to get in out of the rain. When I did, something next to me moved and Clancy poked his sleepy head up out of his place between our sleeping bags, where he was snug and warm.

Two extra dogs for the night
Two extra dogs for the night

Whatever I had seen, it wasn’t Clancy. I was worried that maybe a coyote or bobcat had invaded our camp, so I got out my flashlight to look. As I strained to see into the dark, something licked me on the back of my neck! Startled, I turned to find two wet and cold dogs wagging their tails at me and trying to lick my face. They were both soaked to the skin and shivering. Rather than waste time trying to run them off (I didn’t have the heart to do that) I simply told them to come on under the tarp and lay down on the canvas between Dad and Me. Clancy simply wagged his tail and tucked his head back under the tarp. The two dogs laid down comfortably and went right to sleep. They were still there when we awoke at sunrise on Sunday morning.

When I got up I noticed both dogs had collars and tags. I took a look and found the telephone number of the veterinarian out of Thatcher, only about 20 miles away. I had sufficient cell phone coverage, so I called. Of course, being a Sunday, they weren’t open, so I left a telephone message that we had found the dogs and a description of where we were camped. She called me later that day, told me she had gotten the message and had passed the information on to the owner. She said the owner would pick the dogs up later in the day. About 3pm or so, a lady did, in fact drive down to the river and picked up the dogs. She told me she owns a nearby ranch and that the dogs, who belonged to her late mother, would occasionally take off on a little walkabout and be gone for a few days. She appreciated us taking care of them for the day.

That afternoon, Al Smith, who guided us through the Chiricahuas, showed up at camp with an apple pie and some soda pops. We passed an enjoyable hour or so just talking, and that apple pie sure hit the spot!  Later in the afternoon, a couple dropped by, having seen our horses, to meet us and see what we were about. They were Josh and Melissa Patton. Turns out we were in Josh’s regular horse camp, so he was just checking us out. They ended up very generously bringing us a bale of wheat hay for the horses. It was a welcome supplement to the horse’s diet. They certainly enjoyed it.

That evening, as I was feeding the horses, I noticed that Daisy was acting sore. I checked her over and discovered she had a very swollen udder. It appeared to be lactating a bit as well. Though she had not recently foaled, her udder looked as if she had mastitis. I told Dad we had a problem. As we checked her and discussed the possibilities, it suddenly occurred to me that I had the veterinarian’s telephone number still in my iphone, thanks to the two lost dogs that visited us for the previous night!

The following morning, Monday, I put in a call for the vet, which she returned shortly thereafter. I told her our problem with the mare. She was out to see us at our camp by 9:45am. Her diagnosis was that Daisy had likely been poked in the udder by a mesquite thorn, which had caused the infection. The actual puncture wound was right on the nipple. The vet was able to drain quite a lot of the infection, relieving much of Daisy’s discomfort. She provided us with antibiotic for the infection and bute for the pain. She gave us instructions for medication and told us Daisy should be fine to continue. What a relief.

Al Smith stopped by again, so with his help we got the horses saddled and packed and were ready to make tracks by about 11:30am. Our original plan had been to follow the Gila River, however, after talking to Al, the Pattons,  and checking with the local BLM office, we were convinced that following the Gila was a bad idea. Much of the Gila River in that area flows through the Gila Box National Conservation Area. In recent years the Bureau of Land Management has removed cattle from the area, which has had a very detrimental effect on the trails. There are no more trails through the area along the river, so we would be fighting our way through brush, quicksand, and deep areas of the river with no marked trails to show us safe routes of passage. The quicksand in the Gila is a real danger, not just a bit of mud. We were told of a hunter who lost several mules recently, when they were stuck in quicksand and could not be extricated before they drowned.

The route we decided upon led across the Black Hills, which lie between Safford and Clifton, south of the Gila River. My DeLorme Explorer iphone application, Earthmate, which provides topographical maps on my iphone, showed a jeep trail that took off from a dirt road not far from our location, which led in the general direction we needed to travel, and eventually joined with the old Clifton highway, now the Black Hills byway. We headed that direction, generally following the guidance of my GPS and the topographical map. We wandered around for a couple hours looking for that jeep trail before we were convinced that our topo map was wrong. According to the map and my GPS, we were standing exactly on the road…but there was no road to be seen anywhere and we were in the middle of some very rough and difficult terrain, with prickly pear and volcanic rock everywhere.

From the location where the road should have been, we could see a power line heading over the mountains toward Clifton. We decided we would follow the power line service road, knowing it would be a rough and steep road, but would eventually get us where we needed to go. Experience also told us that any fences we might encounter would likely have unlocked gates or gaps on the service road. Ranchers also tend to use them for access to the back country, so we hoped we would be able to find cattle water troughs every few miles within striking distance of the service road. That turned out to be the case, once we got underway.

As we headed in that direction, though, I started hearing a “clink-clink” sound from Ranger’s right rear hoof. When I got off and lifted his hoof, I was quite surprised to find we had worn out the shoe and it was literally falling off his hoof! The shoe itself was no thicker than a nickel and the nail heads were completely worn off. The shoe had not been pulled of, but was simply falling off. A quick check of the other horses told us we were in trouble. I tacked Ranger’s shoe back in place and we headed back to our camp on the Gila. We traveled about five miles that day and ended right back where we started.

On the way back, seeing I had cell phone signal, I called Al Smith and asked if he might be able to assist us again. He showed up at camp shortly after we arrived and drove me into town to buy some horse shoes and nails. While we were in town, I had Al stop by the local Sonic Drive-in and I bought us all hamburgers and Cherry Limeades (I don’t ever remember a better tasting hamburger!). We spent that evening pulling shoes and cleaning up hooves, but we ran out of daylight and energy before we finished.  We completed the shoeing job the following morning. Al came back out to lend a hand and we had all the horses re-shod and ready to hit the trail just before noon.

I did the shoeing on Lizzy and Ranger. While I have been trimming my horse’s hooves for about ten years, this was my first experience of actually shoeing a horse. With Dad and Al coaching me, I did a fair job. I am proud to say that neither horse became sore or lost a shoe the rest of the trip, more than 170 miles through some of the roughest terrain on earth. I learned a lot…among other things, that I’m glad I don’t do that for a living. It’s hard work!

At camp on the Gila River
At camp on the Gila River

Our stay in the Safford area was supposed to have taken two days, Saturday and Sunday. Due to some unplanned delays and problems, we ended up staying four days. However, looking back at it, everything that happened there was providential. There is not one thing that could have happened differently without creating a potential disaster for our trip. We were able to order new water filters which were overnight expressed to us from Montana on Friday night. On Saturday night, we had two wet and cold lost dogs join us for the night.  They provided us with the phone number for the local veterinarian, who was able to come to our camp to provide the necessary care for the mare with the infected udder. Then, our little misadventure with the missing road allowed us to discover that our horses needed to be re-shod before we got out into the middle of the lava rock of the Black Hills, which likely would have lamed horses and put us afoot. The four day delay also allowed Clancy’s feet to heal up and gave us and the horses some much needed rest.  We were very well blessed by the Good Lord that all those things happened right there near Safford, where we had all the help we needed. Those things could not have happened in any other way that would have allowed us to continue our adventure without serious problems.

Thank you Lord.

That day, Tuesday, Day 18, we made only 11.6 miles, having shod five horses (the mule was shod the previous Saturday), started late, and having passed through some steep and extremely rough terrain. We camped that evening at a water hole not far from the Double C Ranch in the middle of the Black Hills, south of the northern end of the Gila Box. It was the first decent campsite we had seen all day, so we called it quits a little early. We made ourselves a small campfire and enjoyed a restful evening.

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.

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, Tack and Gear

Thinking about the big ride…

The upcoming ride has been much on my mind these past several weeks. Only three weeks left to get everything ready, and stuff is piling up.

My truck is just about back to premium condition. Still have one oil leak to get fixed. I’ll take it back in after next week, when I can spare it for a few days. Otherwise, it’s running well and I’m quite pleased. I’ll have four new tires put on it next week as well. I’ve put over $10,000 into it in the past year, most in the past month. I had the engine rebuilt, new injectors installed, new A/C system installed, new upgraded steering package, new tires, new parking brakes…sheesh!

Just about have the truck and trailer back into shape
Just about have the truck and trailer back into shape

Additionally, I have blown four rear tires on my trailer in the past year, two of them brand new tires. I decided this week to take it in to a shop and have it checked out. Turns out the rear axle is bent.  Not enough to cause abnormal tire wear, but enough to overheat the tires when loaded heavily. They’re replacing it today with torsion half-axles. That should fix the tire issue. Blowing a tire with a fully loaded trailer while driving down the freeway at 70+ miles per hour is a melancholy situation. Another $1700 spent, but at least I won’t be having to buy tires every other time I load up and haul.

Reno, in training with our hard paniers
Reno, in training with our hard paniers

I’ve only had to spend about $1500 this year for gear, though, which has helped. Most of my gear was purchased last year. As you have probably read in my past posts, this year we decided to try a set of hard paniers, so I bought a set of bear-resistant paniers from Outfitter Supply. That was a major purchase. Outside that most of my purchases were smaller items that needed replacing from last year’s ride.

I still need to buy our food and horse feed. I’m talking to a couple places regarding sponsorships or at least a discount on these items. I can use all the help I can get.

Time is flying by. I’m already into scramble mode. May 16, my departure date from Utah, is coming up fast!

Stay Tuned for more!

 

 

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, Tack and Gear

Thirty days until I head south to AZ to start the second leg…

I’m sitting here at midnight and can’t seem to get my mind to slow down. I have a thousand thoughts running through my head about the upcoming adventure. There’s a lot to be done in the next thirty days.

Today I received the last piece of horse gear I’m going to buy for the trip. I bought, through Outfitter Supply, a Five Star 1″ wool felt saddle pad with a spine relief cut-out. I like the look of it and have high hopes it will save my Fox Trotter’s back when he starts losing weight during the trip. On the first leg last year, both my Fox Trotters lost weight in the latter part of the trip, causing their spine to contact the underside of the saddle. They both got a sore spot that turned to a calcium deposit from pressure on their spine from the saddle cantle area late in the trip. Hopefully, this saddle pad with the spine relief will alleviate that problem.

I have had a pretty tough schedule this past month, earning money to finance the trip and trying to get in some good rides to start “legging-up” my horses, as well as getting my truck and trailer into road-worthy shape. On the way home from my trip with Dad to Moab a few weeks ago, I blew the engine in my truck. I just got it back this evening with a rebuilt engine, new A/C system, and new injectors. Hopefully it’s ready to go. I actually got it back over a week ago, but it had an oil leak, then on the way home from the trip to Swinging Bridge last week the radiator fan stopped working and I nearly ruined my new engine. I took it back to my mechanic, who got everything squared away and I got it back this evening, hopefully for good.

In the next month I will need to accomplish the following, while keeping up my work and other duties as well:

  • Buy 4 new tires for my pickup
  • Get horses shod
  • Get health inspections on the horses for their travel to Arizona
  • Pay ahead on my DeLorme Explorer account (my GPS unit)
  • Contact news outlets regarding our pack trip
  • Purchase horse and people feed for the trip
  • Get the trailer brakes adjusted and bearings repacked and check front axle
  • Put pockets on Dad’s chinks
  • Make a rifle scabbard
  • Finish documenting the first leg of the trip on the blog!!!
  • Replace latigo and billets on my saddle
  • Replace saddle string on my saddle
  • Check on my hotel reservations in Panguitch
  • Get our trip support arranged arranged for

Yep. Lots to get done.

I’m going to do my best to get the rest of last year’s ride fully documented on the blog before we start the second leg on May 23 this year, so stay tuned.

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.