Tag Archives: trail riding

Great Western Trail, Western Trails

Back to Planning the Big Pack Trip

To those of you who have been following this saga from the beginning, thank you. You will be pleased to know that Dad and I are actually in the “OK! We’re going to do this!” stage now. For those just joining us, my father and I have been trying to plan a horse pack trip from Mexcio to Canada. We have both been dreaming about something like this since I was in high school and we’re finally going to make it happen. We’ve had to scale our plans back a bit…a lot…because of a number of factors coming into play. The thought of making it all the way from Mexico to Canada is still rolling around in our heads, but we’ve decided it would be much wiser for us to break the trip up into “legs” and try not to bite off more than we can chew at a time.

Our hope for this year, 2015, is to take the first two legs of the trip, from the Mexican border to

The first two legs of our Mexico to Canada trip.
The first two legs of our Mexico to Canada trip.

Panguitch, Utah. Shown in the graphic in red and green, as close as I can figure, using Google Earth and USFS maps, that will cover about 800-1,000 miles. I’m confident it will be closer to the 1,000 mile mark, since the Arizona Trail has been fully documented at 800 miles and our route through Arizona will be at least 100 miles longer than that, due to our desired stop in Eagar. We intend to document the trip by GPS, so there will be no question as to mileage and so anyone who wishes to follow our route later will have that information to help in their planning.

Truthfully, the second leg of the trip, from Eagar, Arizona to Panguitch, Utah, is the part of the trip Dad and I have been dreaming about. He and I have talked about crossing the Grand Canyon on our own stock for more years than I care to remember. From Eagar to Flagstaff, we’ll follow portions of the old Honeymoon Trail, which the early Mormon settlers of northeastern Arizona used to travel to be married in the LDS Temples in Utah. We’ll also travel the old General Crook Trail which he blazed from the White Mountains to Camp Verde in the late 1800s. We’ll then travel north on the Arizona Trail, crossing through the Grand Canyon, then on up through portions of southern Utah where my great-grandfathers used to ranch and run cattle. The legendary outlaw Butch Cassidy was known to have frequented the areas we’ll pass through. We’ll end up this leg, and likely our travels for the year, at Panguitch, Utah, where Dad was born and raised. This leg of the trip will be between 500 and 700 miles, as close as I can figure, and should take us about 6-7 weeks. Dad will turn 81 years old during that leg. There is a lot of history, both general and personal that we’ll be passing through on that part of our trip.

As of today, the plan is for us to depart sometime in April (a lot will depend on weather) and try the first leg of the trip. This will take us from the U.S./Mexico border just east of Douglas, Arizona, northward to Eagar, Arizona. That leg will be approximately 300 miles and should take us about three weeks, give or take a couple days. Eagar will be a sort of home-base for us, since that’s where my folks live. Once there, we’ll rest up for a week or two while we assess how we did and what we need to change. We will see how we feel about our horses, decide whether to add a couple to the string and whether any of the ones that made the first leg need to be changed-out. We’ll assess our gear – saddles, pack saddles, halters bridles, packs, cooking gear, etc. – and make adjustments where needed. Not among the least of things for a couple of old farts, we’ll assess our own health and determine whether our old bones can make the second leg of the trip.

First Leg To EagarTo add a little more detail, shown in the graphic in red, the first leg will have us departing from about Border Monument #77, just a couple miles east of Douglas, Arizona. We’ll track generally north from there, crossing State Highway 80 and on into the Chiricahua Mountains. As I will be taking my trusty trail dog with us, we’ll stay clear of the boundaries of the state park there, tracking around it on the east side. We’ll trend northwest from there, following portions of the Grand Enchantment Trail through the mountains until we come close to Safford, Arizona, where we’ll head east until we come to Eagle Creek. We’ll head north from there, passing east of the San Carlos Indian Reservation border, wind our way up to cross Highway 191, and head over into the Blue Wilderness Area. We’ll drop down off the Mogollon Rim and find Blue Road and follow it northeastward until we come to a friend’s place just south of the town of Blue. We’ll likely stay there a couple days and rest ourselves and the horses, before heading up Foote Creek Trail, or possibly Grant Creek Trail, back up on top of the Mogollon Rim near Hannagan Meadow. From there we’ll be tracking northwest, passing west of Alpine and Nutrioso and on up to Eagar, Arizona. That will be the end of the first leg, as I said before. As close as I can figure that should be very close to 300 miles.

That route for the first leg makes good sense for us, because it crosses roads at various places and passes through or near a couple of towns. That will make it a fairly simple matter for our logistical support. We already know we will have to pack our horse feed, or at the very least supplement it on this first leg. It’s not likely there will be much grass along that route at that time of the year. We will plan to have a driver meet us at planned locations to re-supply us with feed…for both horses and humans. From what I see on Google Earth, though, we should be fine on water for the stock and for ourselves all along the route that time of year, as there are numerous stock ponds and tanks and a few creeks. Snow run-off and rain should have them all pretty full.

After taking a couple weeks for rest and recuperation, as well as assessment and adjustment as necessary, there at Eagar, we hope to embark on the second leg – the trophy leg – of our trip. This route, shown in green in the graphic, will track northwest from Eagar, Arizona along the edge of the pine forests of the Tonto National Forest, to Show Low, Arizona. Just west of Show Low, we’ll meet the General Crook Trail, which is a designated trail for foot/equine travel. It will take us on down the mountains to Camp Verde, where we’ll join the Arizona Trail. The Arizona Trail will take us north, passing west of Flagstaff, Arizona (actually through Flagstaff for a short distance), then on

Second leg from Eagar, AZ to Panguitch, UT
Second leg from Eagar, AZ to Panguitch, UT

north to the park entrance to the Grand Canyon National Park. We’ll stop there to make all the necessary last-minute arrangements with the park service and the mule outfitters before heading down the designated trails to the bottom.  While horse travel in the park is permitted on designated trails, coordination is necessary, so as not to encounter a string of mules coming the other way on a narrow portion of the trail. We’ll spend a night at the Ghost Ranch at the bottom of the canyon, to which I look forward with much anticipation. We could probably make it down and up in one day, but I can’t imagine making that passage without stopping for a night at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. That is something I have dreamed of. Sadly, my dog will have to travel this portion in the truck with the hired help.

From the Grand Canyon, we’ll move northward to cross U.S. Highway 89, where it makes a big jog as it crosses Paria Canyon. We’ll follow Paria northward to Willis Creek, which we will follow westward to the Grandview Trail. The trails up Paria and Willis Creek hold some spectacular scenery, winding through “slot-canyons” so narrow in some places that we’ll likely have to unpack our horses to pass through. The Grandview Trail wanders around the outskirts of Bryce Canyon National Park. It offers much of the same scenery, although from a less spectacular perspective, as the park does, but is on BLM land, which allows me to take my dog and is unregulated as far as horse travel. The Grandview Trail passes around the south end of Paunsaugunt Plateau (Bryce is on the southeast side of the plateau), then turns northward along the west side of the plateau. We’ll follow that trail up to Red Canyon, where we’ll come down off the plateau and make our way on into Panguitch, Utah.

We still have family living there in Panguitch, and Dad still has many old friends there. I expect we’ll be met there with open arms….and shaking heads. That will be the end of our trip for the year, completing the first two legs of our Mexico to Canada trip, covering about 800-1,000 miles.

It will also be the fulfillment of a long held dream for one son and his dad.

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Good Stories

A Real Cowboy

2 Comments

I was browsing through some old files, just cleaning up my computer a bit, when I came across a story my oldest son, Nathan, wrote for a school assignment in high school. The story was based on a true experience, or better said, ordeal, Nate passed through on a horse pack trip with his grandpa and me in the Weminuche Wilderness Area in southern Colorado in 2001, I think it was.

No, no horses were shot, but I have to admit there were thoughts about it. I’ll have to tell the true story on another post. It was quite the trip.

By the way, Nate’s a doctor now.

Enjoy.

Student # 8
Eng. 111
21 October 2002
A Real Cowboy

Cowboys have been much publicized characters throughout American history.  Generally, they are portrayed as rough, tough, down-and-dirty guys on the silver screen.  Usually they’re ill-mannered yet still chivalrous, slow of wit albeit quick to the revolver, and always scrambling onto their horse once more than it has thrown them off.  John Wayne is the perfect example.  Cowboys are rugged, worn-down, ready for a fight, and anything that comes their way can be handled by either their fist or their pistol.

My grandpa is a cowboy.  His father was killed when he was young, so he grew up as the man of the house.  He’s farmed, he’s roped, he’s rode, he’s hunted… he’s done it all.  If there ever was a real cowboy, it’d be him.  He grew up teaching manners to rank, unbroken horses, and the smile never left his face.  I’ve heard stories of him going out on the town looking for fist-fights just to pass the time.  Grandpa is tough.

Dad is a cowboy.  As a career, he’s FBI.  Given a choice though, he’d be baling hay in an instant.  Growing up, he did the work on my grandpa’s farm.  He loved every minute of it.  He has a special whistle he does that is like the call of mother nature herself… he can call horses, dogs, cats, and even children with this whistle.  Familiar or not, they all come running.  He’s been camping alone outdoors more times than I’ll ever sleep outside at all.  He owns three horses and rides them every chance he gets.  I’d bet that if he woke up in the wilderness one day with nothing but a Swiss army knife and five hundred miles to civilization, he would make it back  without mishap.  If someone gave him a horse as well, he’d probably choose to never return!  And talk about being a tough-guy… just last year he fought two guys at once because of a traffic violation.  Every day he’s got a new smashed thumb, twisted ankle, or half-severed finger, and he never once complains.  Dad is tough.

Now me, I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum with this whole cowboy deal.  I’d much rather discuss than “duke it out.”  I enjoy firearms, but my idea of a shoot-out is watching “The Matrix” on DVD, and I’d take a fully-automatic H&K MP-5 submachine-gun over any revolver or bolt action rifle.  Camping is a lot of fun and all, but the best part is always coming home and showering to get rid of that putrid smell.  Hay makes me itch and alfalfa gives me asthma attacks.  But the worst part of the whole ordeal is the horses.  Horses are big, dumb animals that make good glue.  Sure, they’re faster than walking and are more versatile than a covered wagon, but they can never compare to my Jeep that will do 60 miles per hour and carry a hundred times the equipment.

I suppose the true reason for my extremist opinion is that I’ve been bit, stepped on, kicked, clothes-lined off, and bucked off of horses.  In fact, the last time I’d been around a horse, I had mounted up to ride while my dad led the horse around with a lead rope, so  he could “keep control.”  As fate would have it, the horse soon tried to run off with me, slipped in a puddle of mud, and fell on its left side.  All four hoofs were  still in the air, and my left foot was under the horse’s left side.  (My dad of course bought the horse the next day).  I, on the other hand, had six weeks to relive the encounter while five decimated bones healed.  The darn things just don’t seem to like me a bit.  This is why I was so surprised with my dad’s question.

“So, son… your grandpa and I were thinking it might be neat for the three of us to go on a horse trip up in Colorado.  It’d be kinda a three generation thing…”  I couldn’t believe that my dad would have the nerve, the gall, the audacity to ask such a ridiculous question!  Do I want to go on a horse trip?  Of course I don’t!  What a terrible idea!  Is he trying to get me killed?  I’d rather go skydiving without a parachute!

“…and we’ll arrive at Emerald Lake.  I’ve heard it has great fishing.”

There it was.  There was the catch.  My father, being the cunning man he is, had introduced a new element into the equation.  One he knew I couldn’t resist.  Fly-fishing was the greatest thing in the world to me.  I loved it, and my dad knew it.  That’s how I came to agree to go on the stupid horse trip at all.  At the time, I knew it’d all be worth it once I reeled in my first rainbow trout of the day.

So there I was, sitting on a nice, small, 25 five year old horse (which I suppose is ancient in horse years) with no mischief to give me.  My father had saddled my horse, named Ronie, up for me and was now saddling his up, the intimidating foot-breaker of my past.  His name was Max.  My grandfather was on Royal, a bad-tempered, ornery steed.  After getting suited up and used to my new elevation atop the animal, we embarked on our journey and left behind the world of comfort I was used to.

Sure enough, not 100 yards from mounting the horses, Royal started to give Grandpa a bit of trouble.  The horse froze up, twirled in a circle a few times, then fell toward a barbed wire fence, taking my grandpa down with him.  Somehow, my grandpa rolled away before being pummeled by the thrashing feet of the crazed horse.  My dad then decides to be a hero, so he “tackles” the horse to prevent it from becoming further entangled in barbed wire.  The killer horse proceeded to pound my dad’s head into a rock in all of the commotion.  Eventually, everything got settled down.  As usual, Dad was optimistic about the rest of the trip.  Grandpa, however, was mumbling something like, “That’s one.”  I didn’t know what he meant, so I didn’t concern myself with it.  Within a few minutes, though, the horse and both my father and grandfather were up on their feet and ready to go.  I was raring to go, too… to go home, that is.  Alas, we pushed onward.  Then came the rain.  The huge drops weren’t much of a problem as we rode, the rain slickers took care of it rather well.  However, when it got too dark to ride, it did present a problem.  Everything was wet, so a fire was out of the question.  All in all, we ended up spending the night underneath a tree (to block the rain) in a sleeping bag surrounded by two tarps.  For dinner I ate cold beans, straight from the can, (and they were absolutely the best beans I’ve ever eaten.)

Arising the next day, sore and hungry, we set out to make good time.  The first obstacle we faced was a steep hill we had to climb to get out of the camping spot.  It was about 15 yards long and seemed almost straight up.  Strangely, to this day I still don’t recall going down that hill the previous night.  Regardless, I went up first and made it just fine.  I had the good old horse.  Following close behind me was my dad, who did fine as well.  Bringing up the rear was poor old Grandpa.  The tough old guy didn’t even see it coming… three quarters of the way up the hill, the horse went straight over backwards on top of him.  Seeing his father apparently crushed, my dad leapt from his saddle and flew to my grandpa’s aid.  Miraculously, Grandpa had landed immediately on the downhill side of a log, and the horse rolled over the log and left him merely shaken and bruised from the fall.  Then came the arduous task of getting Royal to come up the hill at all.  Grandpa pulled and tugged at the lead rope (from terra firma this time) until stubborn Royal finally crested the hill… and practically jumped on top of him.  I watched in horror as my grandpa, on hands and knees, dodged the pounding hoofs from above like a bad spoof from The Matrix.  With a mighty shove, my dad moved the stupid animal and I’m sure saved my grandpa’s skull.  Under his breath, I heard, “That’s two…” from Grandpa.

When the commotion had subsided, I again presented my idea to return from whence we came.  Again, my proposition was shot down by a grandfather who persisted that “the show must go on.”  I was then beginning to suspect a conspiracy between my father and grandfather… for some reason, I felt that they were pushing to stay just a little too hard to be for their own sakes; there could be no other reason, I could find, though… anyway, on with the story.

We once again headed up the trail, this time with Dad walking, leading royal by the halter, and Grandpa riding Max.  We had only a little longer.  We were almost to the lake…  I could taste the trout already.

Then came the switchbacks.  The two foot wide switchbacks made possible a nearly vertical ascent by crossing a steep hillside horizontally, several times, at a low grade angle.  I was absolutely positive that my horse would *snap* anytime and slip, tumbling off the edge and breaking me in half.  I just knew it… I even had my foot halfway out of the stirrups at times… but the fall never happened.  The horse never even twitched.  My horse was steady as a rock, and as long as the “rock” didn’t become a rolling stone, I was fine with it.

Then, we crested the ominous mountain, and there sat our destination, our goal… Emerald Lake.

That evening, after finding a place to camp, we decided to ride down to the waterfront and check out the view while we used our pump to purify some water.  Grandpa decided to take his chances with Royal one more time.  We were all fine until we arrived at the waterfront, when Royal decided to act up again.  This time, Grandpa wasn’t going to wait around to see what happens.  As soon as Royal started to fall, Grandpa leapt from Royal’s back in a stupendously acrobatic maneuver (for a 65 year old) and gracefully landed flat on his back, on a rock.  Ouch!

Grandpa got back up as quickly as he could, but it took him a minute.  He didn’t complain a bit.  Instead, he took a .38 Special revolver from his saddle-pack, put it to the horse’s head, and told it “That was three.”  Then, he pulled the trigger.

I couldn’t believe it!  I sat aghast for a moment, then I awkwardly dismounted as quickly as I

could.  I screamed, “Grandpa, I can’t believe you!  How could you?  The poor animal… I know I don’t like horses, but…”

Then my Grandpa gave me a look that I have never forgotten and said, “Nate, that’s one.”

Grandpa rode my horse for the trip back, and I walked.  Nevertheless, I didn’t complain once.

The Three Amigos
The Three Amigos

 

 

 

Website Management

Start Your Blog Here at Western Trail Rider!

I was recently contemplating all the work and effort I have put into creating this website and starting my Great Western Trail Ride blog. There was a while there when I was pulling all-nighters just trying to get one or two problems on the website working properly. Then I crashed the website while trying to migrate it to another web host. I lost everything and had to start completely over. Luckily, I was able to restore all my blog posts from caches on another site. Still, it was a lot of work. Just creating a single well-written blog post is a lot of work!

I started wondering whether it was all worth the effort, and trying to define exactly what my goals were for starting the website and blog. The bottom line, I decided, was that I hoped that eventually the information I posted would be helpful to others, or at least entertaining, and maybe feed their dreams the way others have fed mine. For that to happen, I needed to be able to reach people, or it would all be wasted effort.

Which is why I am writing this post. The title makes it sound like blatant promotion of the website, but read on. If you are interested in sharing information relating to horse packing, camping, and trail riding, or related topics, or if you currently maintain such a blog (short for web log), but are not getting the readership or following you would like (sort of like talking to yourself), then this may interest you. Read on.

For a blog or website to have any value, other than being a simple release of energy and creative juices, somebody has to read it. Then, for you to get any gratification, they have to be able to respond to your posts, comment on them, and share them with their friends. For that to happen at all, people have to be able to find your blog. This is done by means of search engines, such as Google, Bing, Yahoo, Pinterest, and others.

Search engines operate by means of tiny computer programs known as “bots” and “spiders”, that wander through the Internet attaching themselves to anything that moves, and reporting back to the search engine. For instance, the Western Trail Rider forum currently has fifty such bots registered on the forum. These bots feed on the information posted in the forums and report back to their respective search engine any particular key words they find that might be attractive to people using that search engine.

Have you ever wondered how the computer knows just what advertisements to put on your home page, or how facebook knows to send you “suggested pages”? Same thing. The bots take a look at the things you search for and look at, and report back to their search engine. Invasion of privacy? Yup. So what? We have all checked that little box that says they can do it if we want to use their services…and we do.

So, in horses bots and spiders are bad. On your blog, they are good…most of them. They get you noticed by the search engines. Notice by search engines gets you subscribers and followers. A long-running blog that has a large following can turn out to be a money-maker, through Internet advertising, although for most of us that’s not the real goal. Most of us just want to share our experiences with others, and the more followers we have, the happier we are.

In order to maximize a blog or website’s ability to get noticed by the major search engines, there are free and paid sources of software out there geared to maximize your “SEO” (search engine optimization). They help create “slugs” and search-friendly key words, categories, and tags, that help get your blog or website noticed. WordPress, which is the software behind Western Trail Rider, has excellent SEO software built-in.

Now comes the kicker. If you have a desire to create a blog to document your trail rides or pack trips, or share your experience as an outfitter in Wyoming (for instance), wouldn’t it be to your advantage to start your blog under a website that already houses similar blogs, already has a following, and already ranks well with the major search engines? Can you see the application of the old saw, “Strength in numbers”, here? Brings to mind the flash floods we used to see in Arizona. One minute the wash is dry, then next it is flowing full, all because a lot of rain drops fell to the ground, then joined together to run into the same flow, creating volume by their numbers.

I have looked at numerous blogs on websites of suppliers, outfitters, and just simple bloggers, who have posted half-a-dozen short posts and given up, because they had no following, and it became a non-productive expenditure of time and energy.

Our vision, here at Western Trail Rider, is to create a website where people like yourself can share their western trail riding adventures and practical experience, discuss related matters in a healthy and active forum, and actually get their information into the hands of people who are looking for it. As we get more bloggers and forum members under the WTR banner, the better will be our search engine ranking, and greater will be the exposure for all.

So your options are essentially this: Do it yourself…the hard way…or come join us and we’ll all do it together.

If this interests you, hit me with an email at tony.henrie@westerntrailrider.com. It will take me a matter of minutes to get you started. It’s easy. You don’t have to be a computer whiz. We’ll get you started, we’ll take care of you.

In the meantime, check out our current blogs: Trail Rides with Jon (by Jon Tanner) and Tony’s Great Western Trail Ride (by Tony Henrie). Join the forum. Create a photo album of your favorite trail.

Just click on the menu item at the top of this page.