Tag Archives: horse

Great Western Trail, Horse Health, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Wrapping it up: Days 24-28, The Blue River to Eagar, AZ

This post will conclude the documentation of the horse pack trip Dad and I did from April 11 through May 8, 2015 from the US/Mexico border to Eagar, Arizona. The trip was 355.2 miles, according to my DeLorme InReach Explorer GPS, and spanned 28 days. This post covers Days 24 through 28.

When we left it at the end of the last post, it was somewhere around 3:00am Sunday night and I awoke to the sound of a whinney off in the distance, up the canyon a ways, where five of our horses had wandered during the night as they grazed, leaving the Queen Bee, Lizzy, staked at the edge of our camp.

The next sound I heard was the rumble of thundering hooves, as the whole herd came at a full gallop toward camp. I don’t think Dad even woke up, but I was curled up in the fetal position in my mummy-style sleeping bag expecting to be trampled at any moment. Well, the horses galloped into camp, but luckily, as they did Sunday afternoon, they stayed to the trail and passed by us about 30 feet away. Whew! They immediately settled down to their grazing again and all was well. I went right back to sleep.

Down in the Blue
Down in the Blue

We broke camp the following morning, as usual. I decided to ride Lizzy, as her back was doing much better, and pack Daisy and Ranger. Daisy’s saddle sores had gotten pretty bad, so we put the salve on her and put a pack saddle on her with no packs. We just rolled up the manty canvasses and tied them to the saddle. Ranger had a light pack as well, because we were down to the last of our feed. We divided the rest of the gear and supplies evenly among the three pack animals that were carrying a load, and all three were fairly light. Clancy was doing a bit better, so he was going to be walking, rather than riding.

Black was doing better. His swelling had gone down quite a bit and he was moving better. The bute had been helping. We gave him his morning dose and by the time we got started he was doing better. Dad was riding Jimbo, so Black had a light pack on.

The travel was pretty good, as we were able to follow the designated trail much of the day, however, since the USFS and BLM have removed livestock, for the most part, in the Wilderness area, the trails are quickly disappearing. Cattle no longer move through the areas, cowboys no longer use the trails, fires have swept through some areas, and so they are simply disappearing. Trails that have been in existence for hundreds of years are now just gone. It’s rather sad.

Anyway, for much of the day we simply made our own way, but it wasn’t too bad. The Blue was running low and there was plenty of open ground in the riverbed and surrounding benches to allow us to pass through most areas with no problem. At one point we spied a couple of caves up on a sidehill. I just had to explore them (my brain still thinks I’m 15), so Dad took a break and the horses grazed while I took a look.  They were deep enough to make a small room, but I found no buried treasures.

The weather was a bit wet, broken clouds, sprinkling just enough to get things wet in the morning. Later in the day we could see clouds building south of us. Eventually, those clouds began to build in our direction, so we were watching for a storm.

We expected to be able to find adequate grass for our horses down in the Blue riverbed, but surprisingly we found very little. We saw a few head of cattle, but they were very wild, obviously holdovers from many years back. Still, the grass in the area was grazed low. Apparently the elk herds are strong in that area. Whenever we found any quantity of grass at all, we stopped to let the horses get a few mouthfuls.

We passed the HU-Bar ranch about mid-morning. We were back into familiar territory, as Dad had been down in that area in the past. About lunchtime we found a patch of grass and decided to let the horses graze while we ate lunch. We also pulled out our slickers, as the sky started to spit a bit of rain.

Just as we were about to wrap up our lunch break, a couple cowboys with their dogs showed up. They were hunting stray cattle. Back in the old days, this would have been known as “rustling”, but what they were doing was removing lost cattle from areas where they had been restricted by the USFS. These were cattle that had once belonged to some local rancher, but that he wasn’t claiming, in order to avoid being fined by the USFS. So, these locals would go out and find the strays, then take them to market. At today’s prices, it brings in a little extra to keep their families fed or spare change in the pockets. It wasn’t easy work, because those cows we saw were wilder than deer!

The cowboys hadn’t brought their slickers along, so as the drops started falling, they headed out at a pretty quick pace. That worked out pretty well for us, because they were familiar with the actual trail. On our way forward, we simply followed their tracks, which likely saved us a couple hours by the time we covered the next six miles or so to the Blue Road. As it turned out, we got enough rain to get everything wet, but no downpour. We heard some thunder back down the canyon, but none close enough to be of concern.

We hit the Blue Road about 4:30pm. We had made about 16 miles, but figured we needed to make another eight miles to make it to our stopover place at Blue. We contacted Dick Goodman by text to let him know where we were and when to expect us and about two miles farther along he and his wife, Jean, showed up in their pickup. Clancy was about done-in and I was carrying him on my saddle as much as I could (the strain on my back was quite painful). We put Clancy in Dick’s pickup and they took him on to the house for us. Although he was in pain, he left us barking and howling to let us know he didn’t want to go. Dick returned a bit later and went ahead of us, opening all the gates as we approached. That was a big help, as getting on and off the horses this late in the day was a chore.

We finally arrived at Dick’s place, where he had made arrangements for us to use a corral, around 8:15pm, long after dark. We unpacked the horses, fed and brushed them, then headed for Dick’s house. We were beat. Our horses had fared well, but were tired as well. We had made 26 miles on the day, in just short of 12 hours of riding.

Dick had an RV he let us stay in. It was nice to get a shower and rest in a bed that night.  Dick and Jean treated us to baked beans and hamburgers. The following day, Tuesday, was wet and rainy. We decided to stay the day. It was a good break for us all after a 26-mile day on Monday. Mom and my sister visited and brought a lemon pie. We had a fine dinner that evening.

During the day on Tuesday we were able to talk to a couple fellows who know the Blue Wilderness area very well. Our plan was to ride Grant Creek Trail from the Blue River, near Dick’s place, to the top near Hannagan Meadow. We’ve made that ride several times before and know it to be a beautiful and pleasant ride. The advice we got, however, was to abandon that idea, as the trail system had received no maintenance in the past several years, and fires and disuse had made most of them impassable by horse. It was a tough decision, but in the end we decided to ride the Red Hills Road to the top. We figured we were about fifty miles from Eagar, by the route we would ride and that it would take us about three days.

Ranger's lump on his back
Ranger’s lump on his back

We also decided to leave Lizzy and Daisy. Lizzy’s back was sore again and the lump on her back had swollen overnight. She also had several rub sores on her shoulders and rump from the straps of the pack saddle. Daisy’s saddle sores had gotten worse as well, and, quite frankly, we were tired of her mare-ish antics. Even after all this time, she was disruptive to our string. Neither horse was of much use to us and there was enough grass available now that we did not need to haul feed, so we called my brother-in-law to come pick them up. My mother took Clancy home with her. We also sorted out some items of gear we wouldn’t need and left them with Dick. He’d bring them up to us in Eagar later. We ended up with only two pack animals, using paniers, rather than Decker-style packing. We found our process of packing and getting ready to move went much faster and easier.

So, for the last three days of the trip, it was just Dad and me, three horses, and one goofy mule.

On Wednesday morning, after an excellent breakfast provided by the Goodmans, we packed up and headed up Blue Road. About two miles up, we came to Red Hills Road, which we took and started the climb up out of the Blue. We ascended more than 4,500 feet in a matter of twelve miles. It was a fairly easy day on Dad and me, but was tough on the horses.

Once on top, at an elevation of over 9,000 feet, the land levels out a bit. There was plenty of grass and we stopped several times to graze the horses. In the late afternoon we stopped near US 191 at a set of corrals used by the USFS. Although there was plenty of grass, we had made previous arrangements with a friend to leave a bale of hay there at the corrals. We released the horses into the corrals and fed them. It was still fairly early in the day, around 5:00pm, so we had time to gather firewood and make a nice campfire. We enjoyed the evening sitting around the fire talking about our trip and our plans going forward. We made 14 miles and climbed over 4,500 feet. Our camp was at about 8,090 feet elevation.

Camp at the corrals on Highway 191
Camp at the corrals on Highway 191

Our original plan had been to use this first leg of the trip as a “shake-out” that would let us know how well we had prepared and whether we had the right horses and gear to continue. If the answer was yes, we would continue on to the second leg of the trip, to Panguitch, Utah. We made the decision several days earlier that we would stop at Eagar this year. Our gear proved to be good, although we had taken quite a bit of gear that we never used, but we found pretty early on that two of our horses were not the right animals for a trip of this kind. In particular, Daisy was a horse we wished we hadn’t brought from the very first day. Lizzy, on the other hand, was a good horse on the trail, but she has a very fine coat of hair that doesn’t offer sufficient protection to her from abrasion. She gets a rub sore wherever a strap rubs her. Additionally, as she lost weight, the saddle put pressure on her spine, which caused the lump on her back. I have seen this on other Fox Trotters, and even Ranger was somewhat affected the same way late in the ride. She just wasn’t the right horse for a ride like this. We decided the wisest course for us was to stop at Eagar, learn from our experience, and plan to make the second leg, from Eagar to Panguitch, the following year.

We passed a pleasant evening. We watched a herd of elk pass near our camp. We slept well and were well rested the following day, Day 27. Packing up and getting rolling was a much quicker and easier process, as I said before, with just four animals. We were up and moving before 8:30am.

We stayed mostly to USFS roads, passing by Springdale and seeing a few houses here and there. We traveled at a very good pace and made good time. I was riding Ranger during the morning, but he kept walking with a short-strided and choppy gait, which worked on my back and made things quite painful for me. Before lunchtime I switched my saddle to Jimbo and rode him the rest of the day. I like riding Jimbo. He has the best training of all our horses and is very pleasant to ride. Later that evening I found Ranger had two loose shoes, which I tightened. I think his sore back contributed to his choppy stride. He is normally very smooth to ride.

Camp near Big Lake off USFS 24
Camp near Big Lake off USFS 24

Again, this day, traveling by USFS roads, we found that the topo maps provided with my DeLorme InReach Explorer, were grossly inaccurate. We found mislabeled roads and roads shown on the map that were nonexistent, as well as roads on the ground that did not show on the maps. That was a very frustrating thing. We found during this trip that our good old-fashioned paper maps were indispensable. Between the three – GPS, electronic topos, and the paper topo maps – we did ok.

We made camp that night about 3 miles or so west of Big Lake, near a stock pond. It was a pleasant spot with good grass. We were lucky to get it, as a couple pickups and motorcycles stopped by looking for a campsite that evening. It was a cold night, at about 8,500 feet elevation. We had made 19.6 miles.

Ice from our bed cover
Ice from our bed cover

In the middle of the night we had an unexpected shower. I jumped up and spent the next few minutes running around in the cold rain in my underwear trying to cover everything up. It was nice to jump back in the sack and cover up. The following morning we had small puddles of ice on top of the top cover of our bed.

The next morning, Day 28, Friday, May 8, 2015, was a nice day, with broken clouds and just a hint of a breeze. At 8,500 feet, though, that doesn’t make for a warm day. We slept-in a bit and didn’t roll out of our bags until 6:00am. We were packed and rolling by 9:15am. We were thinking that if we made good time and didn’t make any navigation mistakes, we might reach Eagar that day. It would be a long day, however, and we had no desire to push things like we did down on the Blue. We considered that we might need to make camp short of Eagar and finish on Saturday.

Out on top, White Mountains
Out on top, White Mountains

We passed through some beautiful country, with which we were already familiar. Dad and I love that area, up in the tops of the White Mountains. The Wallow Fire of 2011 blackened much of the area, but not all. We passed through some burned areas, but for the most part it was green and nice. We passed a very pleasant day. As we passed the Black River, we filled our canteens and watered the horses. We gave them a break to graze on the grass, which was abundant here.

We did, in fact, make very good time on the dirt roads and we were coming down Water Canyon, above Eagar in the late afternoon. As we came into town on the south side, about a quarter mile from where our trailer had been dropped off for us, Black started limping. By the time we got to the edge of town he was limping badly, so Dad dismounted and waited with the horses while I went on to the trailer and came back for him.

Wouldn’t you know, that by the time I got back to pick up Dad, he had lost Honey the mule. Honey, recognizing the area, since she had been kept for a while near where we were, and seeing her buddy, Jimbo riding away from her, she pulled away and ran off, still packed with our gear. It took us a while to finally locate her. A local fellow found her wandering around and corralled her. With Honey in the back of the trailer with the horses, we drove the four miles or so to the pasture and home.

I have to admit that the end of the trip was somewhat anticlimactic, but we were glad to be home. We made 22.4 miles that day, arriving at Eagar at 6:30pm.

Our total travel mileage was 355.2 miles from the US/Mexico border to Eagar, Arizona, in 28 total days, 21 travel days.

Black was back to normal after a few days of rest, as were the rest of the horses. Only Jimbo and Honey arrived at the destination without a single mark on them. The others all had their bumps, bruises, and scrapes. After all the headaches and problems he gave us during the first few days of the trip, Jimbo turned out to be the most solid, capable, and reliable horse of the bunch. We were lucky to have him along. Daisy’s saddle sores have since healed up, leaving only the white telltale marks, but her disposition hasn’t changed any. I still want to spit on the ground every time I think about her. Lizzy is still my favorite trail horse, but she won’t be coming this year, due to her propensity for rub sores. We’re keeping her at Eagar as a backup, just in case. Dad’s Little Black will be with us this year. He and Dad are a package deal.

On the Trail
On the Trail

There was one day on the ride last year, during which I had thoughts of regret at dragging my dad out into this difficult and somewhat dangerous endeavor. Thoughts that it was my selfish desire to drag him along and I shouldn’t have done it. I thought, “What in the world am I doing out here with my 81 year-old dad?”

Two months ago, Dad and I were out for a ride south of Moab, Utah, tuning up for this year’s ride. As we walked along side-by-side on the horses, I mentioned those thoughts and feelings to him, expressing to him that I was having doubts about our plans for this year’s ride from Eagar to Panguitch. Last year’s ride was 355 miles in 28 days. My figuring has this year’s ride estimated at about 620 miles and 42 days on the trail (not counting rest days). Dad looked at me with a wry grin and told me not to worry. He hadn’t had even one minute’s regret during that ride last year. The thought hadn’t even entered his mind.

That was all the confirmation I needed.

So, Dad’s 82nd Birthday is Monday, May 23, 2016. We will be mounting up on Tuesday to head for his hometown, Panguitch, Utah, planning to ride into town just in time to ride in their Pioneer’s Day Parade on July 23. His high school class will be holding their 64th class reunion that week as well. A fine homecoming for Dad.

I’m glad we can do this. It’s quite a thing.

Buena Vista Peak, Chiricahua Mountains, Arizona

 

 

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Days 20-23…From the Gila Box to the Blue Range Primitive Area…Second Edition

This post will cover Days 20-23 of our pack trip last year.

Day 19 left us camped out on a hilltop overlooking the Phelps-Dodge mine at Morenci, Arizona, just north of the northeast end of the Gila Box Conservation Area. We were only about a mile or so west of US 191, just south of Clifton. Our route this day would take us east for several miles, then northward toward the southern part of the Blue Range Primitive area. This day would see the last of the harsh terrain and conditions of the low Arizona desert and start putting us into the higher, greener elevations.

On Day 20, April 30, 2015, we arose early, as always, fed the horses, rolled up our beds, had breakfast, and hit the trail again. We hit US 191 before 10:00am. Our first challenge of the day. The State of Arizona, or maybe the Bureau of Land Management, made this very nice gate there at the cattle guard at the approach to the crossing. Problem was, the gate would not open. The bottom foot or so was buried in sand. Took me about a half hour to dig it out, so we could open it far enough to get the horses through.

Lunchtime and a rest
Lunchtime and a rest

After that, we crossed the highway and rode the shoulder for about a quarter mile north to join Table Top Road, which took us north, then turned southeast for several miles to a small township, of which I cannot recall the name. It was more like a housing development than a town. As we entered the town, we found a small grassy spot near a diversion dam, where we let the horses graze for an hour while we had lunch and rested in the shade of a tree. It was a good stop for us, because little did we know what was waiting for us.

After passing through another small township, on Ward Canyon Road, we turned northeast on Skyline View Road, then took a right on Rattlesnake Road. Rattlesnake Road was a dirt road that headed northeast toward the mountains. The terrain we had been passing through up to this point was regular old Arizona desert. Very little vegetation, other than greasewood and the occasional mesquite tree. The rocky ground was not quite as bad as what he passed through the previous two days, but it was still rough. It was nice to have a dirt road going in the direction we needed. After several more miles we came to the end of the road. Well, at least the maintained road. We found ourselves coming to a USFS road that obviously hadn’t been maintained in a while. We could see it stretching before us, climbing straight up a narrow, very steep canyon. Rattlesnake Canyon.

From the top of Rattlesnake Canyon
From the top of Rattlesnake Canyon

Luckily, there was a good waterhole at the foot of the road, where we watered the horses. We were joined there by a herd of horses. I doubt they were mustangs, but they were pretty wild. The road was extremely rocky, but at least it wasn’t all volcanic rock. The canyon was scenic, but the climb was so steep we didn’t get to look around a lot. I recorded a short clip or two on my iphone, but the battery started to go, so about half way up the canyon I got my GoPro out and tried to get a couple more clips.

We climbed 1200 feet in under a mile. We had to stop a number of times to rest the horses. By the time we crested the saddle at the top of the canyon, we were resting the horses every 100 yards or so. We got a good laugh as we came to the last hairpin turn before the crest. There was a “dangerous curve” sign just after the turn, on the high side. Yep. Big as life, a real live Arizona road sign. I can tell you that even a rock climbing Jeep, or a 4-wheeler, for that matter, would think twice before tackling that road! Lucky for us, our horse feed was running low, so our horses were packed lightly.

This day I rode Ranger and Dad rode Jimbo. Daisy was again developing saddle sores on her withers and Lizzy had a sore back. Lizzy had started developing a lump on her back, about where my saddle cantle rode, on Wednesday. I suspected there were two factors involved: my having to carry Clancy in the saddle for much of the day on Wednesday and the fact that she had started to drop a little weight, which made her already prominent spine (Fox Trotters are built that way) even more prominent, which caused the saddle to put pressure there.  I had given her a helping of bute with her morning feeding and she was packed very lightly. The pack saddle allowed her to move with no pressure on her sore spot. I hoped that would help.

Clancy was making work of things. His paws were very sore and his strength wasn’t recovering with a night’s rest as he had early in the trip. He was simply wearing down. On this day I carried him most of the day on my saddle on Ranger.

The pond at the top of Rattlesnake
The pond at the top of Rattlesnake

We took a short break at the top, looked around, rested the horses, then headed on down the road. The descent on the other side was not steep, but quite gradual. It was also treed with oak, juniper, and cedar. There was grass and other vegetation. It was a completely different world that the other side of the hill. After a short distance we came to a small pond with an old line cabin. We watered the horses there, but didn’t stop long. We had to make several more miles before we could stop for camp.

I don’t know whose ranch land we were passing through (I’m sure it was BLM range), but I can tell you they had some good cowboys. This land was very well maintained, with well-maintained stock ponds every mile or so. We saw evidence at every turn of hard work having been put into keeping up that range over many years. What a beautiful ranch it was.

Just before sunset we came upon a stock pond with a very nice corral. There were nice trees and a perfect level spot for camp. Problem was that there was this huge black angus bull occupying the campsite. Eventually we were able to crowd him off our selected spot, but he stayed close by all night. Seemed like he liked the company. We watered the horses, then released them into the corral. They enjoyed the freedom of not being tied and all had a good roll. We enjoyed our camp that evening, although we were beat, having made 16.4 miles.

After a short night, we were up again at sunrise. We were packed and moving by 9:00 am. Our goal for the day was to pass the Martinez Ranch, on the San Francisco River, about a couple miles from the confluence with the Blue River, start up the Blue, then camp at a stock tank on Pat Mesa. After that, we would head north on the Blue, entering the Blue Wilderness Area. We had a stopover planned at a friend’s place at Blue, Arizona, which we believed we would reach by Sunday. Turned out that was very optimistic. We hoped to be able to have someone meet us there to take Clancy back to Eagar with them. He was having a hard time of it.

We enjoyed Day 21. As I said, we passed through some very nice ranch land. We passed through rolling hills for most of the day, and the weather was pleasant. We passed the Martinez Ranch just before lunchtime. It didn’t look like there was anybody around, so we kept going. We rode down to the San Francisco River, watered the horses, then let them graze for an hour. We had our lunch there and refilled our canteens. That was about the 250-mile mark on our journey.

From there we followed the river west for about two miles, to the confluence of the Blue River. These were tough miles, during which we crossed the river six times. One crossing was deep enough to come up over my boot tops, but not deep enough to flood our pack paniers. The trail along the river had not been maintained, so it was difficult to follow, however we were again blessed.  A four-wheeler had passed through not many days before us (judging by the tracks) and the rider had marked the trail with ribbons. Without that, we would have had a very difficult time finding our way those two miles.

At the confluence of the Blue, we turned north to follow it. The Blue River bed was much wider and more spread-out than the San Francisco. It was quite beautiful and was much easier traveling.  We followed the river for a quarter mile or so, but saw that it was coming from a very narrow canyon. The map showed that if we entered that canyon we’d be stuck in it for several miles before it spread out. Not knowing what we might find in there and being concerned about quick sand and the thick willows growing along the banks, and just having bushwhacked along the San Francisco for two miles, we elected to seek a route up out of the canyon and to keep to the mesa until we reached Juan Miller Road the next day.

Our 1967 USGS map showed a trail that ascended up out of the canyon where we were, but our current topo map did not show it. We searched around a bit, expecting that the trail was not maintained anymore. We finally came upon it and found the USFS or BLM had plowed it up and put up berms to keep it from being used. Lucky for us they did, or we would never have been able to follow the trail! Had they just left it alone, it would have grown over and disappeared, but their efforts to close the trail by placing a berm in it every twenty yards or so, guided us up the steep trail until we reached the top at Pat Mesa. By this time, Dad and I were bushed, as were the horses. The last three or four miles had been tough ones.  We began looking for a camp, still about three or four miles short of our goal.

We saw a stock tank on the map, which gave us hope, but when we reached it, it was dry. We continued on, thinking we would be making a dry camp. We finally came upon a suitable place, with a small clearing among cedar and juniper trees, but as we were about to dismount, I noticed across a canyon that a two-track road turned up into the mouth of a canyon. At the mouth of the canyon I could see some sort of structure. I told Dad I thought it might indicate a water source, as I could think of no other reason for a road and a structure out in this area. It was only about two more miles to round the head of the canyon and cross over, so we continued.

Lucky we did, because we came upon an improved and running spring, with a cowboy camp and a corral. Apparently it was a working camp, but every body had headed to town for the weekend (it was Friday evening). We imposed ourselves on their hospitality and set up camp, tossing our sleeping bags in their tent. It was nice and we slept well. We left them a “thank you” note and let them know we left the camp like we found it. Ruth Brockman, of the Turkey Creek Ranch, sent me an email later, saying she had received my note and were glad we had made ourselves comfortable. She invited us back for a visit whenever we get back down that way. I’d like to do that sometime.  We made 16 miles that Day.

Saturday, May 2, Day 22, was more of the same, traveling across Pat Mesa, following a “cat track” that was used as a ranch road. Again, we saw much evidence of hard work being put it to maintain the range and keep it in good condition, which it was. The road was fairly easy until we got a couple miles short of Juan Miller Road, at which point it became very hilly and rocky. It became a lot of work on the horses. That’s one problem with following a “cat track”. They are named that, because they are bulldozed out of the mountains. Bulldozers are nicknamed Cats, after the company Caterpillar. Cats don’t necessarily take the easy route and don’t make many switchbacks. When they do, you know it’s a steep hillside.

We had just descended down into Pigeon Creek and were looking at two options: we could turn east about a quarter mile and strike the Blue River, following it upstream for less than two miles to Juan Miller Road, or we could stick with the cat track for another 4 miles to get there. We were still leery of following the river, so we decided to go with the known-quantity and continue on the cat track. We climbed the very steep ascent out of Pigeon Creek and were just cresting out when we came upon a hiker. We stopped and talked to him for a few minutes. It took me about two minutes to recognize him as a man with whom I had communicated online about two years before regarding possible routes for us through these mountains. What are the chances?

Brett Tucker is a long-distance hiker, who knows southeastern Arizona like the back of his hand. He has the website “Grand Enchantment Trail“, which documents a long-distance trail he designed through several mountain ranges in southeastern Arizona. He just happened to be out scouting a new route for a trail. Much of the route I selected for our trip was based on his advice. Once I realized who he was (he recognized me at about the same time) we asked his advice for our route to Juan Miller Road. He suggested that we turn around and head down Pigeon Creek to the Blue and follow it. He assured us it was a safe, easy, and scenic passage for horses. We followed along with him until we reached the Blue, at which point we said our goodbyes and he turned south while we went north.

Incidentally, after we finished the trip, Brett sent me an email. He said he returned to Juan Miller road via the cat track. When he reached the road he found the gate locked. Our passage would have been blocked. What a disappointment that would have been for us.  Another of those simple little “tender mercies” of the Lord to help us along on our trip.

And thus began the most pleasant part of our trip, traveling up the Blue River to Blue, then up Red Hills Road and over the top to Eagar.

We headed up the Blue then, crossing back and forth across the crystal clear water about ankle deep most of the time. Cottonwood trees grow along the banks and willows are thick in many places, but we were always able to find a decent way through. In some places the cliff walls became very tall, imposing, and beautiful. There were places where the river passed through narrow cracks in the cliff walls, and we passed through in the river. Travel wasn’t easy, but it was pleasant. We made the short couple miles to Juan Miller Road, then headed west until we found a two-track designated 4-wheel-drive road that headed north. That road took us to the historic Fritz Ranch, now a USFS property. We took Blue Trail #101, which heads there at Fritz Ranch. The trail follows the Blue River all the way to Blue Road, and that was our plan. We planned to make camp about 6 miles or so up the trail at the HU-Bar Ranch, which is an old abandoned ranch house, used by many passers-by as a camp stop.

This day I was riding Daisy. I had both Ranger and Lizzy under pack. Turned out that Ranger showed a sore back the night before. Had to be from carrying Clancy in the saddle. Not only that, but holding Clancy in my lap caused me to sit back farther in the saddle and caused me some back strain. I was developing a very painful knot in my upper back.

The days on the trail, through very difficult country, had taken its toll on us. Dad and I had found ourselves becoming increasingly short-tempered with ourselves, with each other, and with our horses. We were tired, the horses were tired, Clancy was tired…we were just beat. It was Saturday afternoon and we were looking forward to a much-needed Sunday rest.

No more than about 1/2 mile up Blue Trail #101, one of the horses started acting up a little and I was getting angry at him. My anger was spreading through the whole bunch of us pretty quickly. Suddenly, I looked around us and saw that we were in a pretty decent place for a camp. I turned to Dad and said, “We’re camping right here tonight!” We were about five or six miles short of our goal for the day, but we were done. We made camp right there. We made 17.2 miles that day, 273 total miles on the trip.

We didn’t spend a lot of time with things that afternoon. We simply cared for the horses and staked them out on the plentiful grass, then went to work setting up our camp. We had a couple hours before sunset, so we just rested and relaxed while the horses grazed. Turned out this was a good decision and we were camped in a pleasant spot.

On Sunday morning we stayed in bed a little longer than usual. The weather was pleasant, the morning cool, and we were comfortable. After we arose, we fed the horses a bit and moved them to new areas to graze. We found that Black was a bit lame. Both his rear fetlocks were quite swollen. We gave him some bute with the feed and hoped that rest and some prayers would have him ready to go again the following day.

Lizzy and Ranger seemed to be doing better. Their backs were much better. Daisy’s saddle sores were getting worse, though. Nothing we could do about it. We had taken it as easy on Daisy as we could, to the detriment of the other horses. All we could do was to keep salve on them to keep them soft and lubricated. Clancy was doing a little better, after having been hauled in my saddle for much of the previous day. Dad and I were losing weight quite rapidly. The miles were showing on all of us, except Jimbo the mustang and Honey the mule. They seemed impervious to all the travel and work. They looked just about like they did when we started the trip 23 days before. Not a mark on them.

We had learned by now that our herd of horses…and one silly mule…would follow Ranger about wherever he went, but that Lizzy was the Queen Bee of the herd. Ranger would generally stay where she was and the rest would hang around Ranger. We had also learned that Lizzy tended not to stay in one place very long. She would graze for a couple minutes in one place, then walk off 20-30 feet and start again, which kept our whole herd moving constantly. We found that if we staked Lizzy the rest of the horses would settle down and graze lazily in the same general area. So, that’s what we did for Sunday. I tied Lizzy and moved her to a new spot every couple hours and the rest of the herd stayed around in the general area, calm and relaxed.

I went down to the river to wash clothes and take a bath. It was…refreshing, to say the least! While I was down at the river, I suddenly heard a whinney from way down the canyon, maybe a quarter mile, then an answer from Lizzy, tied there at the edge of camp. Suddenly there was the drum of hooves at full gallop rushing toward camp. I got to where I could see, just in time to watch our entire herd run full speed through camp! Luckily, they stayed mostly to the trail and didn’t actually run over our camp. They stopped immediately after passing through camp, turned around and came back to see Lizzy. Then they all settled down to grazing calmly again.

Dad and I passed a particularly lazy and restful day. The horses and Clancy did the same. We were all healing and resting our tired bodies and minds. The horses seemed to particularly enjoy the day off. A fresh bath put me in a very restful and relaxed mood. We all felt pretty good. It was a good day.

That night, Dad and I were sound asleep, sleeping very well indeed, when I was awakened by a whinney way off in the distance, then an answer from Lizzy, tied right there at the edge of camp…OH NO!!!!!

Stay tuned for the last five days of our wonderful horse packing adventure in my next post.

P.S.

I have discovered a work-around to fix my upside-down photos on the posts. Eventually I’ll go back and repair the older posts. Thanks for your patience.

 

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, Tack and Gear, Western Trails

Days 10-15, Crossing the Desert to Safford

On Day 9, Sunday April 19, Dad and I had spent the day in camp at the mouth of Whitetail Canyon. Feeling refreshed, both in body and spirit, and the horses and Clancy being well rested from a day of rest, we were ready for the trip across the desert to Safford, Arizona.  Joshua Jensen and Al Smith, our capable guides through the Chiricahuas, had left us with a new supply of 200 pounds of Equidyne pelletized alfalfa for the passage across the desert. The saddle sores that had been starting to show on Daisy’s back were healing up after four days of being ponied bareback. We were in good shape. Our only concern now was being able to find water. We had about 80 miles across some very flat, dry desert country before we reached our next destination, Joshua’s place in Safford.

We had a good morning and it looked like for the first time we would be able to make an early start. Just as we were getting ready to mount, a fellow wanders into camp and we get to chatting. It was interesting conversation. The fellow was a local conservationist and birdwatcher. I neglected to take down his name and have forgotten it. It was he who had made the rock cairns we tried to follow on Saturday. Anyway, we talked too long and didn’t make it out of camp again until about 9:30am.

I was riding Lizzy, and, as usual, she set a pretty good pace for us. We left the mountains and joined Nolan Road and headed north, keeping just off the road to avoid vehicular traffic. Our goal was to reach San Simon, where we would cross under I-10 and find a place to make camp.

Somewhere along the route between Whitetail Canyon and San Simon on Nolan Road, we passed the 100-mile mark of our trip.

About half way to San Simon we found a water hole where we took a break and let the horses graze on some nice grass we found there, while Dad and I ate our lunch. For the entire trip our lunches consisted of a few bites of beef jerky, a Cliff Bar, raisins, and a bit of trail mix. We seldom stopped for lunch, usually eating a little at a time as we rode. As small as our lunches were, it was sufficient and we fared well. We were definitely hungry by the time we made camp in the evenings, though.

Dinner and Supper!
Dinner and Supper!

Our breakfasts and suppers consisted of dehydrated meals, made from ingredients mixed and matched from a food storage kit we bought from Walmart for the purpose. We had a variety of vegetable soup, creamed potato soup, corn chowder, and various combinations of those. Breakfasts included dehydrated eggs, the occasional packet of oatmeal, potato shreds, and some bacon bits. We cooked everything over a single coleman burner on a small propane can. Quite frankly, I don’t remember well what we ate most of the time. I’m sorry to say that some of the food wasn’t all that appetizing. Dad and I lost quite a bit of weight on the trip. I think the thing we missed most, in our suppers and breakfasts, was the fact that the dehydrated food kit included absolutely no meat! The imitation meat was also imitation tasty.

By nightfall, after 22.6 miles on the day, we made San Simon. We stopped by a ranch house, and finding nobody home, we helped ourselves to a spigot to water our horses and fill our canteens. We met a good friend of the rancher the following day, who happened to stop by for some friendly conversation, so we passed on our thanks for the use of the water spigot.

Finding no good place for a camp, we pulled off into a thicket that offered some concealment from the locals and made a dry camp. It was dusty, dirty, and full of thorny brush. We hit the hay early and departed early as well. Josh and Al stopped by in the morning on their way through town and helped us get loaded up and started. We then went back to the ranch where we watered the evening before and watered our stock. On our way back into town we ran into the fellow I mentioned above, Ron Mahan, who was able to give us some good directions for getting us into a wash, the San Pedro River, and under I-10 without having to concern ourselves with road traffic.

A nice pond in the desert
A nice pond in the desert

On this day we headed up the San Pedro River bed (otherwise known as a dry wash), which ran generally in our direction. We stuck to that for several miles, but knew we needed to find water for the horses. We struck a road heading east-west that Mr. Mahan had told us about. We followed it west about a mile and found two or three houses and a very nice pond. The pond had bass and panfish in good numbers. I suspect the locals had stocked the pond for their own fishing and eating pleasure. Strangely enough, our horses weren’t very thirsty. We left there and got back into our wash and continued northward.

As we were passing through a part of the wash that was thick with brush, I heard a muffled grunting and looked around to see what it was, knowing the area was prime for Javelina. I spotted a little pig no larger than a small puppy rooting and playing in the grass. We tried to get a picture of it, but the darn thing was so well camouflaged that when we saw the pictures we couldn’t find the little Javelina in it! The mother was nearby, so we let them be. An angry javelina is nothing to mess with. We moved on.

Shortly thereafter the wash became rather problematic to follow. It became deep, to where we could no locate ourselves with regard to the mountains and we could not see to find the next waterhole we were aiming for. It was also so choked with mesquite that it was tough, and painful, to get through in places. We climbed up out of the wash and began to head overland on higher ground.  Once on top, we spotted in the distance what looked like a cottonwood tree, which often indicates a well or water hole, so we headed that way.  It was, in fact, a cattle watering tank, but it hadn’t been maintained in a few years. It was choked with algae and moss. The horses drank from it, but not deeply. They didn’t like it.

Camp at Butte Well
Camp at Butte Well

By nightfall, we had again traveled about 18 miles. We camped that night at Butte Well, located just about a half-mile east of Orange Butte. There was a decent water trough for the horses, but nothing for us. Again, the water was full of green algae. At this camp we had to watch for cactus, because there was a low-growing species of prickly pear that you really had to watch out for. This area was very dry, with few trees even tall enough to tie the horses to. Again, not a very hospitable camp. This day, Clancy’s feet got pretty sore and I ended up with him on my saddle for several miles. The mileage we were making was getting to him. I ended up with him on my saddle quite a bit over the following few days. That night I checked his paws and found a mesquite thorn about 3/8″ long stuck all the way up in one pad.

The following morning I attempted to filter some of the water from the trough, with my Katadyn gravity-feed water filter, to fill our canteens. Lesson learned: Don’t try to filter filthy water! The algae plugged my filter before I had gotten a quart of drinkable water. That was a problem, since we didn’t have a spare filter. That meant we had no means of replenishing our drinking water until we reached Safford, another 40 or so miles farther along the trail. Well, we could have boiled water in a pinch, but that takes propane and time.

No, he's not dead.
No, he’s not dead.

We got back on the trail the following morning and followed a two-track ranch road westward. About five miles farther along we came to a solar-powered well with running water. We were able to fill our canteens, but the water tasted salty. The horses were fine with it, though. We ended up doing a lot of cross-country bushwhacking that day. It was a long one.  Around lunch time we located another waterhole that was apparently privately owned. There were a few improvements around it, such as a pathway and a small picnic area. We watered there then went a mile or so farther on, where we found some good grass. We let the horses graze for about an hour, while Dad and I ate lunch and rested.

We crossed the San Simon Fan area that day, which is a stretch where the government build low spreader dams to spread out the rain runoff to control erosion and spread the water over a wider area to benefit the local ecology. What it did, however, was to spread very fine silt over a very large area. Here’s a video that shows the area. It took us several hours to cross it. Here’s a video.

We made camp at Bailey Well that night, after having made a total of 21.2 miles. We had hoped to make Tanque, but would have arrived long after dark and we were completely bushed. We were tired!

Bailey Well was another solar-powered well, but we arrived after the sun was setting behind Mount Graham, so we obtained no water for our canteens. Horses were watered well, though. We ran out of drinking water the following morning, having just enough to make a breakfast.

The next day, Day 14, Friday , April 24, we headed north on a dirt road. Safford was about 20 miles away, so we hoped to make it all the way. We made Tanque around noon. We were lucky enough to find it a running well, so we were able to fill our canteens. The water tasted a bit better than the water we got from the previous well.

We followed dirt roads the rest of the way to Josh’s place, which was lucky for us, because it got us through the numerous cholla forests in the area. The cholla was flowering, so it was quite beautiful, but cholla is a true hazard for one traveling by horse. It is also commonly called “jumping cactus” because it grows in clumps, little balls of spines, that break off and stick when one brushes up against them. The plants propagate in this way, so the cactus grows in patches, or forests, as the case may be. We passed by several “cholla forests”.

Josh's place
Josh’s place

We made Josh’s place late that afternoon, after a day of 20.8 miles. It was good to release the horses into a corral and feed them hay. Josh and his family were not home for the weekend, but left us the use of the house. He also left us the use of his pickup, so we headed into town immediately after tending the horses, to look for a water filter for my Katadyne filter. No such luck, so I contacted Outfitter’s Supply in Columbia Falls, Montana, from whom I purchased the filter, and they overnight expressed two filters to me.

That evening, Josh’s neighbors, the Bodines, brought us a home-cooked meal of wild turkey. Their 14 year-old boy, Evan, had killed the turkey during the spring hunt. Jessica Bodine cooked it up with dumplings. It was heavenly!

The best part of the evening, though, were the showers at the end of the day! In order to not abuse the hospitality shown by Josh and his wife, Dad and I made our beds in the garage. We really didn’t want to get their house filthy. We availed ourselves, however, of their washer and dryer. It was wonderful to feel clean and have clean clothing again.

Dad on our mustang, Jimbo
Dad on our mustang, Jimbo

On Saturday morning, the Bodines brought us a very tasty breakfast, Al came to put shoes on our mule, Honey. After he arrived, we headed for town to buy shoes and some other supplies. While we were driving around town, Al took us for a drive to sort of scout out a route past Safford. We located a power line that offered a decent route. While we were scouting, another of those little helps from heaven happened. We met Clay Gomez, who owns a ranch through which that power line runs. He owns the only gate in the fence for many miles. He was very cordial and gave us permission to pass through his gate. When we arrived there later that evening, he had left the gate unlocked for us.

Me on Lizzy, with our string
Me on Ranger, with our string

By the time we arrived in Safford, we had traveled about 170 miles.  Our mule, Honey, had been barefoot all that way. She started getting tender on Wednesday, so we had Al put shoes on her. We also re-stocked with the last of the Equidyne feed we had stashed with Josh before we started the trip. Our Katadyne filters arrived via UPS by 9:30am. Amazing! We got ourselves packed up and hit the road about 11:30am.  We followed the power line route, as planned, and made good time. We passed through several fences, but none was locked. We ended up making it about 19.8 miles that afternoon and made camp on the Gila River, just north of a small town named San Jose.

The following day was Sunday, our rest day. We had a nice camp, with water, grass, a place to tie our horses, and a nice spot for our bedding. It was a good day to pass the Sabbath. We needed it, as the mileage we made over the past few days was starting to show on the horses. They needed a rest. So did Clancy. So did we.

Stay tuned for days 16 and 17 later this week, and some trail stories you are sure to enjoy.

 

 

 

 

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

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.

 

 

 

Great Western Trail, Western Horsemanship

Picked up a new horse…

I’ve been shopping around for a new horse for the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip. Those of you who have been following the blog will recall that my Missouri Fox Trotter mare, Lizzy, had some issues on the first leg. Her long-strided, swinging walk caused rub sores on her shoulders, chest, and rump wherever the pack saddle rigging straps rubbed. She was the only horse with this issue. It seems her summer coat of hair is a bit thinner than my other horses. For this reason, I had to keep her under riding saddle more than I wanted, which eventually caused a sore spot on her back as she began to lose weight during the last part of the trip. In the final analysis, while she is my favorite trail horse, she just isn’t the horse for this pack trip.

I was actually shopping for a new mustang, since we had such good luck with Jimbo, and came across a few possibilities, but it seemed that they were either too far away or weren’t broke enough for my needs (I don’t bounce like I used to and just didn’t want to have to deal with breaking a bucker). Then, a couple weeks ago, a horse that wasn’t too far from my locale caught my eye from an ad on KSL Classifieds, out of Heber, Utah. I kept going back to the ad, because I liked the color and build of the horse. Finally, I decided to make a call and go see him.

IMG_1938The ad indicated he was a grade gelding and that his sire was APHA registered. He was 3-1/2 years old, 14 hands, and had a couple months of training. The price was a little higher than I was looking for and he was a bit younger than I wanted, but I decided to take a look anyway.

I invited my good friend, Rob Prody, and we headed up to Heber one afternoon, about an hour’s drive. We took a good look at him and found he was a bit taller than stated in the ad, at about 14.5 hands, I’d guess. He has a nice, stocky build, short back, straight legs, nice chest and rump, and nice large, round hooves. He had a calm and friendly disposition and was easy to catch, although he tried to avoid being haltered. Looking at his teeth, I could see that the last of his baby teeth was about to come out, so his age was about right. The one thing that worried me a little was a quarter-crack on the outside of his right rear hoof. It wasn’t actually opened up, but I could see the line running up to the coronet. I couldn’t see any injury there, though. I also found he didn’t like me messing with his rear hooves too much, and he made a half-hearted attempt to cow-kick me a couple times. I decided not to make the purchase at that time, but told the owners I might call back in a couple weeks.

After missing out on a couple mustangs I wanted to see, and taking a couple weeks off of my horse shopping, for vacation and work, I found my mind returning to this gelding. Once I got home and had time to continue my search, I decided I would call again on this paint gelding and make an offer, before looking at three other horses I had selected to check out. The long and short is that the owner and I came to agreement on the price and agreed on the sale.

After spending an evening digging my horse trailer out of about 18″ of snow down here in Salem, with the help of a neighbor with a fairly large 4wd John Deere tractor, I was able to pick the horse up on Wednesday evening.

I again took Rob up with me, thinking that we’d just pick up the horse, stop somewhere for a dinner, then head home. You know what they say about “best laid plans.” After arriving at the owners’ place, I signed the Bill of Sale they had prepared and handed over the money. After some small talk and getting to know each other a bit, we headed out to catch-up the horse and load him into the trailer. That’s when the owner mentioned the horse had only been in one other horse trailer and they had a tough time loading him. I could feel the warning lights and horns going off in my head. Since I seem to always buy greenbroke horses, I normally don’t pay for them until I have them in the trailer. I had forgotten all about that simple protocol this time.

IMG_1937Well, he was easy enough to catch, and I had just a little trouble getting his halter on, but he lead easily over to the trailer. Due to the situation of the residence and the amount of snow in the drive, I had parked the truck and trailer on the side of the road. I had the emergency flashers going to keep us from getting hit by passing traffic in the dark. So, here we are bringing this greenbroke horse up to the back of my trailer in the dark with the emergency lights flashing and us shining flashlights around. Looking inside that cavernous, dark trailer, he simply said, “Nope! Not going in there!”

Realizing this was not going to be a short, easy project after the first couple of failed attempts, I pulled out a long training lead, hooked one end to his halter ring and passed the other through the tie loop in the front stall. Holding the tail of this rope, I kept pressure on him and coaxed him from inside the trailer, while my helpers attempted to haze him in from the rear. He would get right up to the trailer, then fight and pull back. I just kept the tension on him, allowing it to slip just enough to keep him from hitting his head on the trailer as he fought. My help had to really scramble a couple times to get out of his way. At one point he reared up, turned, and clopped the owner on top of the head with one of his front hooves. Luckily, he had no shoes on and the owner had a sock hat that offered some protection. Nobody, including the horse, got hurt in the process, other than the owner’s knot on the noggin. After close to two hours, the gelding got tired and simply gave up. He hopped into the trailer, I led him into the front stall, shut the divider, and we had him ready to travel. I put some hay in the manger for him and we headed off down the road.

I felt him move around a bit the first mile or so, but when we stopped at a restaurant about three miles away and checked on him he was fine and was settling down. By the time we came out after dinner, he was quite calm and I was comfortable with heading back down Provo Canyon to Salem.

My herd at pasture in Salem
My herd at pasture in Salem

Once back in Salem, at the pasture where the rest of my herd is kept, I opened the loading gate and started to back him out of the trailer. He got one leg out the back, said “Nope!” and hopped back in. After several minutes of failed attempts at coaxing him from in front, I got out of the trailer and gently coaxed him by pulling lead rope from behind, past his legs. Eventually, he came piling out and everything was good.

I led him over to the fence to allow him to meet his new pasture mates. Seeing no strong aggressive moves from him or my other horses, after a few minutes I released him into the pasture. We sat and watched them for about a half hour and it appeared he would be fine and that the other horses weren’t bullying him enough for me to worry. We left him then and headed for home.

I finally had a chance to mess with him a bit this afternoon and to start his orientation and training. Again, even in the large pasture with other horses, he was easy to catch, but made it difficult to get his halter on. We’re going to have to work on that. I curried him a bit, then tried his hooves. He allowed me to lift all his hooves, although he’s a bit spoiled. We’re going to be working on his hooves a lot, until he figures out that it’s not an optional procedure and that he  might as well just relax and let me do it.

IMG_1936I also learned that he doesn’t like his stomach messed with. He narrowly missed me with a good cow-kick today. Had he not tried that half-hearted cow-kick when I first saw him, and had I not acted with caution this time around, he would have got me pretty good. So, we spent a few minutes working on that bad habit with the knotted end of a heavy lead rope. He learns pretty quickly.

Next week I’ll see about saddling him up and give him a bit of a test drive. I also need to take him for a vet check, Coggins test, and brand inspection.

This gelding doesn’t have a mean bone in him, but he’s very spoiled. He’s going to take some work. I think he’ll develop into a fine horse for Dad and me to take on the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip.

His name is Reno, and I think it fits him. I have four months to get him into shape.

Thanks to Travis and Terra Naffziger, for selling him to me and helping load him on the trailer.

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.