Trail Log: 7-28-2023

 Fish Lake - Lee Camp

Ninja Lee and King to the Rescue

Part 5 - The Final Frontier

• June 28^th – Lee Camp – Fish Lake Area
• Trail: Sugarloaf Peak
• Miles: 10.4
• Riders: Self – Lee – Bernice – Jim
• Horses: Drifter – King – Cash – Wolf

The final ride of the camping trip. Marc and Pattie had packed it up and headed for home. Lee decided on riding to the top of Sugarloaf Peak. The view from the top is worth the 1709 ft elevation gain. (No lost GPS tracks for this ride!) I settled on riding Drifter. A group ride would be another first for him. He'd taken everything else in stride up to this point so I was confident he would do fine.

Lee let me and Drifter take the lead. We would make a loop up Naked Guy Trail and coming back via Russell Mt. Lookout.

We left the trail at the base of Sugarloaf and made the zigzag ascent to the top. It was a lot to ask of a three year old fresh off the desert. Sugarloaf peaks out at 7946 ft. He has youth on his side and handled it as well as the others. I tied Drifter to a bush at the top instead of using his hobbles. The back side of Sugarloaf drops straight off a cliff to no-mans land. It was not a good place to hobble a newly hobble trained horse...especially if it's one you like.

The peak provides a 360° breathtaking view. The 180° view south of the peak encompasses Fish Lake – Clear Creek Lake, Deadman Trail, One Tree Meadow, Naked Guy Trail and other POI's we visited throughout the week. The 180° panoramic view north of the peak expands to the headwaters of the Imnaha and beyond. Patches of snow clung to the lee-side of the cliff. I snapped pictures...my favorite of the day is one I think Susan will like of Lee on a ledge overlooking the headwaters of the Imnaha.

We dog-legged a short section of the trail leading home to have lunch at the Eagle Cap Wilderness Boundary sign. Lee and I hobbled our horses while Jim and Bernice's horsed grazed at liberty. I downed a handful of trail mix, ate an apple and gave the core to Drifter; another first. He's never liked apples in the past. This one he nibbled on and apparently decided they weren't so bad.

I went for a short hike to a higher point to snap some pictures from above. The others rested in the little meadow while the horses grazed contently. Well...Drifter and King grazed contently. Jim and Bernice's horses, Cash and Wolf, appeared to be on the move. Jim and Bernice retrieved them a couple of times so I didn't worry much about it. I figured if they took off, Jack could catch them. I wasn't riding Jack. Shit. That realization crossed my mind the same moment Cash and Wolf made their move. I quickened my pace hoping to head them off without them thinking I was chasing them . I was ignored and if a horse could give you the finger, I got it from both barrels.

By the time I got to Drifter – Lee had removed Kings hobbles, swung into the saddle and was gone like a ninja. Drifter, now left all by his lonesome –did not like being left alone. It was a good lesson for him. He stood pretty calm while I removed his hobbles and gave me about 2 nanoseconds to climb on board. I am not Lee or a Ninja. I saw no point in trying to climb on an anxious three year old in the middle of chaos meadow. I listen to Warwick Schiller of Attuned Horsemanship. One of his principles of training is “only ask yes questions. There was no way I was going to get a yes answer from Drifter in this moment in time. It would do more harm than good if I did eventually get on and take off chasing them to hell and gone.

Lee and King followed at a respectable trot so the escapee's wouldn't feel they were being chased. He waited until the horses tired and stopped for a drink before swinging around and capturing Wolf. In under 10 minutes, Lee and King popped back over the hill with Wolf and Cash in tow and handed them to Jim. He rode up beside Drifter and I with a big grin on his face: “I think I'll keep my old horse...what do you think?” I think I'd keep him, too. At 29 years old, covered in sarcoids and hips like a dairy cow – that horse is all heart. There isn't a horse out there at any age that can out do him. Lee rides a lot and he rides hard. King has spent his entire life a mountain horse and excels immeasurably. Yes, Lee...he's a keeper.

Everyone gathered their belongings and continued on the trail no worse for ware...if not a little out of breath. I told Jim and Bernice not to feel bad. Anybody that rides for any length of time has had a horse beat them back to camp story. Been there...done that. I would make Jim an extra brownie ...he had earned it.

After delivering Brownie Jim his brownies as promised, I packed up camp in preparation to head back to The Cabin. I had met my goals for the week: 1. To get a better feel for this area that has been my backyard since before I could sit a horse. 2. To see if Jack's feet would hold up in rough terrain wearing boots. 3. To expose Drifter to life as a partner on the trail.

I met those goals with help from my friends, Lee and Susan, Marc and Pattie and new friends, Jim. and Bernice. I am picky about who I ride with, especially in the back country. There are as many ways of developing a relationship with your horse as there are the people that ride them. I don't want to hang out with a horse that's been “broke” or trained to do something out of fear or merely for the sake of the training itself. I want a horse that wants to go with me. He wants to go because he likes me, he trusts me, he enjoys my company and mostly, because he chooses me to go with him on this journey as well.

Lee...always on the edge

Trail Log: 7-27-2023

 July 27th - Fish Lake - Lee Camp

Leave No Tracks and Chase you till you drop

Part 4

• Trail: Back side of Fish Lake
• Miles: 7.59
• Riders: Self – Marc – Pattie – Lee – Bernice – Jim
• Horses: Jack – Lou Ellen – Leah – King – Cash – Wolf

Pattie - Marc - Lee

Lee and Marc picked a shorter, easier ride that would loop around the backside of Fish Lake; an area I hadn't yet explored. Somewhere between then and now – the GPS tracking for the day disappeared. All I have to go on is photos and my memory...and we all know how reliable that is when it comes to geography.

I remember dawdling behind as we rode the gravel to the spot that left the main road and took off up the mountain. I needed to get off and secure a strap on my saddle bags that I had missed when saddling that morning. Again, not wanting to be “that person” and hold everyone up, I quickly jumped down to make my repairs. While I'm down here – I might as well take a gander at that tree over there I'm pretty sure had my name on it. I wasn't worried about catching up – I was worried if they dove off the main road up a trail I couldn't see I would not know where they had gone. The gang, by now, is used to making accommodations for my geographically challenged brain and waited until I came in to dive onto the trail leading up the mountain.

The climb was fairly steep. If I had my GPS tracks, I could tell you the exact elevation gain. Since I don't – I will have to rely on my various other gadgets to make a reasonably educated guesstimate. Looking at the “hitting the trail or other point of interests” preset message sent to contacts using my InReach emergency location device and pinpointing those coordinates against the Explorer Map – we can deduce the approximate elevation gain to be 1248 feet. I don't have to wonder where I would be without my techno-gadgets. I already know: I'd be anywhere but where I intended to be and having a blast getting there. I've always proclaimed to have more fun being lost than I ever did knowing where I was at.

At approximately 7250 ft – the elevation encompassed a birds-eye view of the entire topology we had explored over the last several days. Marc and Lee studied the various draws, ridges and meadows they had ridden. The birds-eye view gave them a new perspective to strategize possible routes and shortcuts. They discuss such things in a foreign language I have yet to fully decipher. However, each day brings me closer and closer to cracking this strange code. The number of coherent words between the “Wha...wha's” increased. I now hear things such as: “Wha...waaa..waaaa – Deadman Trail cutoff at Orange tape....whaaa waaaa wahwah...Sugarloaf intersects...wha wha wah....Naked Guy....Naked Guy....wahwah wah.”

The lesson in geography and navigational studies ended as we slightly descended making our way around Fish Lake to a small, hidden lake. We dismounted here for lunch. I don't know where I got the idea the lake was named “Lost Lake.” Perhaps it was on my GPS tracks I no longer have. Maybe Lee or Marc came up with it. I've found the lake on my InReach Map – but it does not have a name. Garmin BaseCamp doesn't show the lake at all. Lost Lake it is.

“Famous lines and what movie were they from!” Lee must have needed something to do after solving the navigational challenges of the greater Fish Lake area. The only two movies I can practically quote word for word are Gone With The Wind and Lonesome Dove. I have shallow cultural horizons. A line from either of them would be too easy. Another popped into my head: “Another time, another place, Mrs. McKaskel, I’d have chased you down til you dropped.”

Nobody knew it. If I could have mimicked the voice to go with it, they might have. Sam Elliot as Con Vallian in "The Quick and the Dead." The one with Sam Elliot and Kate Capshaw...not the one with Gene Hackman and Russel Crow. That's a good movie too...but...well, it's SAM ELLIOT. Now that's a guy I wouldn't mind meeting on the trail. Only he wouldn't be shirtless wearing femmy little silky shorts and NIKE tenny runners. Oh hell no. My Sam would be decked out in trail worn buckskins riding a raw boned, soggy bay and wearing a sweat stained felt hat pulled down low over thick brows giving you "that look...."

“HEY, LAURIE!!!...The trail is over here!!.” By the time I snapped out of my Sam fog – we had connected with Naked Guy Trail and arrived in camp. I do some of my best day dreaming in the saddle.

“If you have to shoot, shoot to kill. Wounds won’t impress them. They’ve all been shot before.” Con Vallian.

Trail Log: 7-25-2023

 Fish Lake - Lee Camp

Frame-dragging and The Shirtless Guy Trail

Part 2

• July 25^th – Clear Creek Cabin 
• Miles:  12.3 
• Riders: Self – Lee – Pattie – Marc – Jim – Bernice
• Horses/Mules: Jack – King – Leah – Ali – Wolf - Cash

We were on the trail by 9:00 AM. Lee and Marc agreed on Clear Creek trail and loop back down via Sugarloaf trail. A 12.3 mile ride that would encompass several lakes and the Clear Creek Cabin. We took turns as to the order we rode in. Jim and Bernice like to stay toward the back with their Tennessee Walkers to slow them down. Otherwise, they out-walk everyone on the trail and would end up lapping the rest of us. Jack isn't the fastest of walkers so I like to bring up the rear so I'm not holding anybody up and I can take pictures.

I started out behind Lee. Something was off...a visual cosmic distortion if you will. As I stared at Lee's back...the cause of the apparent shift in the time-space continuum came in to focus: The suspender strap over Lee's right shoulder was twisted. This would not do. "Lee...stop a minute. If I'm expected to ride back here, you are going to have to fix your suspender. It's twisted. It's driving me nuts. If you were a picture on the wall, I'd be straightening you out." Lee laughed – blamed Susan for not dressing him properly and adjusted the suspender. Just in time, too. Nobody wants to be responsible for distorting the time-space continuum. It is a real thing that could happen...it's called the "frame-dragging" effect. If you don't believe me...or Albert Einstein...Google it!

We were well on our way up the Clear Creek Trail...things were going along rather smoothly. The horses had lined out in their preferred order, the sun was shining with a slight breeze and Lee's suspenders were holding the cosmic balance in check. Jack and I had made our way toward the front of the herd. Somebody yelled: "HIKERS....HIKERS COMING." I looked around until I saw the subject of concern. One hiker...all I saw was one hiker. One bare-chested – rather ripped dude wearing nothing but a pair of silky brown jogging shorts and sneakers. I'm assuming he wore sneakers...didn't really get that far in my field of vision. My mouth must have dropped open because Lee and Marc were grinning and shaking there head at me. Lee asked shirtless guy if he was trail running. No...he wasn't trail running – he'd lost his map and was jogging up and down the trail looking for it. He thought it must have fallen out when he was jumping over logs. More like leaping over logs like superman...a shirtless – ripped superman! (sigh) -

I finally regained my composure enough to speak. "So...where are you camped?" I might as well have asked what his sign was and if he hiked here often. I could feel Lee and Marc trying to suppress busting a gut. This wasn't shirtless guys first creepy old lady encounter. "Ummm...actually, – were just parked. I'm not camped anywhere." It soon registered in my cougar like brain that shirtless guy took my desire to help return his map for a desire for something entirely different! "Oh! I just meant that if we found your map, we could return it if we knew where you were camped – that's all!" Shirtless dude wasn't buying it. "It's OK – I doubt you will find it. I must have lost it when I was off-trail jumping over logs and shit...you know, like superman...a really ripped and half naked superman." At least that is what I heard. I had to redeem myself: "Well, I hope it was a good map because if we find it we will keep it!" Take that, shirtless guy!

Somebody asked if there were any other hikers besides him and the gal. What gal? The guys swear there was a gal with a dog, but neither Pattie, Bernice or myself saw anything resembling a lady or a dog. Shirtless guy said two of his hunting dogs had a chipmunk treed up the trail a bit but not to worry about them – they would eventually come back. Was it just me, or was shirtless guy uncomfortably concerned that creepy old lady might try to return his wayward hunting dogs to him in person? In your dreams shirtless dude. In.Your.Dreams.

We did indeed encounter shirtless guys hunting dogs on up the trail. The chipmunk they had treed might as well have been two cougars and a bear for all the carrying on they did. Some of the horses and mules were uneasy with the commotion. I wished for a minute I had Drifter with me. He is a dog stomper. The neighbors dogs used to steal his Jolly Ball. One day Drifter had enough and ran one into the corner of his turn-out. He didn't hurt him, thank goodness...but his Jolly Ball hasn't come up missing since.

Jack doesn't have an issue with dogs and he's not spooked by them either. We pushed them on down the trail toward shirtless guy and that should have been the end of it. I mean, it would have been the end of it if Marc and Lee would let it go...but nope. Every opportunity they got they had to bring up shirtless guy and the effect he had on a certain creepy old lady. And that, boys and girls, is how Clear Creek Trail became known as Shirtless Guy Trail. Really...really well proportioned trail. I mean, some trails have been better maintained than others...that's wall I'm saying. 

Brownie Jim

We continued up Shirtless Guy Trail skirting Mud Lake toward Mehlhorn Reservoir. Downfall scattered here and there made passage difficult. One in particular had protruding limps at just the right height to gouge a horse in the gut. Jim dismounted, retrieved his handy-dandy limb saw and made short work of the limbs so Jack could pass safely. He had just earned his first brownie badge! I'd brought a couple boxes of brownie mix to bake in my nifty portable propane oven "The Camp Chef."

Elk bugled as Mehlhorn Lake came in view. We could hear there hooves pounding through the water before we saw them. I managed to get a video of a section of maybe 25 elk splashing along the shoreline in front of us. Another 25 or more stayed on the opposite shore...splitting the herd. A cow called to her herd on the other side as if begging them to return. We saw several smaller herds throughout the day ....some bedded down while others possibly trying to join back with the herd they had become separated from.

Clear Creek Lake is my favorite of the lakes in this area. It's larger than the others and has a big rock Island jutting near it's center. Remnants of rusted equipment used to build the retaining wall lay scattered about. We had to wade the horses across a section of the lake. I don't remember having to do that last year. Fortunately, Jack loves the water. Unfortunately for me...I do not. He likes to swim. I do not. When he swims, I hang on – close my eyes and hold my breath until it's over. This wasn't deep enough to have to swim it – but I worried we might lose a boot. We managed to make it across to dry land with boots intact. I was more impressed with these sneakers with every mile.

Clear Creek Cabin is an old lineman cabin refurbished and maintained by the snowmobile club. They do a beautiful job of it. Even though the snowmobile club maintains it – it is still part of Forest Service property and open to public use. We stopped here for lunch and to let the animals graze. It was a good spot for a Beenee Weanee photo-op. Jim sat propped on a stump beside the cabin...his floppy hat pulled down low over his eyes. He looked like he belonged with that cabin. I balanced the can of BW's on his hat, told him to not ask questions and he'd earn himself another brownie.

The trail back to camp via Sugarloaf is a sensory delight. Spectacular panoramic views of the Eagle Caps are the backdrop for miles and miles of rolling hills covered in purple lupine. The powerful aroma teeters on the border of heaven and overwhelming. Humans can try to bottle such a scent to be infused in candles, deodorizers and perfumes. They would fall short. God's creativity cannot be manufactured.

We rode in to camp to find Phil had arrived. He planned to come up and spend a couple of days riding in the hills before hitting several shoots in Idaho and Montana on his way home to Arizona. We weren't sure about taking his motor home up the road I take to get to Lee Camp. A couple of the others had come in a different way, one of them with his motor home. He said the road was smoother and wider coming in from the North Pine side. I did my best to give Phil directions and still expected him to end up in Utah. Phil might be one of the only people with a poorer sense of direction than me. And yet...there he was. I was proud of us both – me for giving accurate directions and him for not ending up in Utah.

It was as good a time as any to expose Drifter to hobbles. I had a person tell me once that hobbling a horse was cruel. The same type of person that confines their horses to a 12x16 pen and never rides outside an arena. Everyone is entitled to their own thing. As for me, I've never had a hobble trained horse cut their leg off in wire. Hobbles allow the horse to graze freely without fear of getting hung up in a halter or dragging lead rope. Some horses, Jack included – can move almost as fast in hobbles as without. I figure it at least gives me a fighting chance should he decide to head home without me. As it turns out, Drifter has been taking a few lessons from Uncle Jack.

The first thirty seconds after slipping the hobbles around Drifters ankles went about as expected. He was sure all hell was upon him. He lept into the creek – floundered around on the bank – bounded up the other side...did about three aerobatic maneuvers...dropped his head and went to eating. That was it. Hobble broke horse.

Lee pointed out that my hobbles are too loose. They should sit above the pastern on the cannon. I did not know that. I would need to borrow Lee's hole puncher and make some adjustments to both Drifter's and Jack's hobbles. If I didn't like Lee and was prone to kleptomania...I would not have returned the hole puncher. The single best pair of leather hole punchers ever. I've gone through dozens of the damn things and his are the only pair to actually work. The maker of them apparently wants to keep it top secret because we couldn't find a makers mark on them anywhere. Figures!

Brownie Jim

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