POISED FOR THE BIG DRINK
- Trail Log: 5-3-2020
- Trail: Owyhees – Succor Creek – Davis Ranch – Lee Ride
- Miles: 10.6
- Riders: Self – Patty – Mark – Scott – Lee
- Horses: Jack and J’Lo – Nellie Rose (mule) – Lea (mule) – Scooter – Prince
- Dogs: No dogs – left in camp
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| Scott - Lee - Mark - Patty |
Notes: It’s hard to sleep when the wind rips all night long.
I lay half-awake fretting the wind would uproot the portable pen and my horses
would escape and join the wild mustangs of the Owyhee’s. Jack would return
home. He would miss his civilized life of belly scratches and horse cookies…but
J’Lo ...I’d never see that mare again.
Lee was wanting so explore an area he was not familiar with.
He had the idea of finding a different way to get around the Davis Ranch to
Antelope Creek from the east. East, West…North…none of it makes any difference
to me. I never know what direction I’m headed anyway.
I saddled Jack and ponied J’Lo bareback. I could swap the
saddle to J if I decided to ride her later. Probably a good thing I opted to
take one saddle or I’d have had two sets of soggy gear to air out later in the
day.
I rode over to the others camp and milled around until they were
saddled and ready to go. I was surprised to see Lee’s tent still standing after
the big wind. He said it flattened out pretty good – but the stakes held.
We crossed Succor Creek in camp and headed straight up to
The Twin Towers. I dubbed the two rock pillars “The Twin Towers” years ago when
I first discovered the area while Chukar hunting with my dog, Spud. I get a
little subdued when I frequent areas Spud and I use to roam. I miss him like it
was yesterday.
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| Lee and Prince |
We took a few pictures between the Twin Towers before
heading on our way. I used my Nikon most frequently and supplemented with my
phone camera “just in case.”
We dropped down on the old Davis Ranch from the backside.
The State of Oregon now lays claim to the ranch calling it “Lonesome Willow.”
It’s hard to say what the State plans to do with it other than warn you to stay
off it. So far, it looks like they have turned it into a whole lot of nothing. It’s
a shame to see.
Lee’s objective was to skirt the ranch to Antelope Creek by
staying off State Land. A web of barbed wire fences made that objective
difficult at best. We managed to weave our way around fence lines and rim-rock.
The horses side-hilled down bentonite covered hills only to claw their way out
of steep, rocky ravines.
We came to an impasse. We had dropped in to Succor Creek. A
downed fence ending at a rock outcropping blocked our path. The creek was
impassable on both sides. We had two choices: Ride down the middle of the creek
and try to find a way around the rock outcropping – or risk stepping over wire
stretched across a narrow path at the rock out-cropping.
Lee, Scott and Mark explored on foot while Patty and I
stayed mounted. Succor Creek was full with spring runoff. I looked at the big
pool of water and had a brilliant idea. Why not ride through that pool – up onto
the gravel bar in the middle and ride down the middle of the creek and see if
it was crossable farther down? How hard can it be? My horse can swim. He likes
the water. Me…not so much – but I don’t intend on getting off my horse. Right?
I don’t know what gets into me some times. I have these moments
where I want to break the law, dance on tables or throw caution to the wind –
strip buck-naked and skinny dip like it’s the 60’s. The latter would have been
more effective had I actually stripped buck-naked. Instead, I opted to remain
fully clothed including my GPS, Camera, Cell Phone, InReach device and pistol strapped
securely around my ankle in its holster. Yeah…like that’s going to keep it dry.
Normally, I don’t consider myself a stupid person. I like to
think I have been blessed with a healthy amount of common sense. Then there are
moments when the 60’s, law breaking, table dancing, skinny dipping side takes
over like a possessed hippy. This was such a moment.
I answer to know one. Let those boys scour the area for a
way around this tangled obstacle blocking our path. I’m heading straight for
the gravel bar. It’s little Succor Creek. How deep can it be?
Deep enough to sink a 16.2 hand buckskin clean up to your
arm pits – that’s how deep! Jack took a couple of steps up to his knees. Another
step brought the water to just under his belly. I raised my legs and hooked my
feet over the swells of my saddle. Surely this is as deep as it’s going to get.
One more step proved that theory wrong. Jack was no longer touching bottom and
sunk to his neck. I don’t swim. I can sort of float – but I have no intentions
of finding out how well. I grabbed two fistfuls of mane and hooked my feet
behind his shoulders to keep from floating off. My saddle bags floated like
water wings – the cantle pack floating up my back. I heard Lee yell something.
It sounded like “barbed wire” – I looked around and spied the fence line and
panicked at the thought that the wire ran under the water. What he actually
yelled was beaver dam. I turned around to see J’Lo swimming behind us for a few
strokes before abandoning us to our fate and swimming to shore. We were closer
to the gravel bar than the shore – but if we made it to the gravel bar – we’d likely
have to swim back across. I let Jack decide – besides – I was too scared to let
go of his mane to do any navigating. Jack circled around toward shore and
clambered his way onto solid ground. The greater Succor Creek pouring off us in
buckets.
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| Soggy horses after the dip in the big drink |
Lee asked if I was OK and if we needed to build a fire. The
only thing suffering was my pride. I assured him I was fine and would build a
fire later when we stopped for lunch. Right now I just wanted as far away from
this “damn” place as I could get. Besides, if it turned 102 degrees in the next
15 minutes – I’d be the one laughing!
I had to pee. One might wonder why I didn’t take care of
that while splashing around in the big drink…after all, who would know. I would.
There are some things a girl just doesn’t do if she can help it. Besides, I had
another issue to attend to. Any women of a certain age who might be reading
this – are likely to relate to the next part of this adventure. As for the men
reading this – you might want to skip the next paragraph – just saying.
After a “certain age” and certainly after giving birth to
three ginormous babies – things down in the nether regions have a tendency to go
south on us. There is a product by Kimberly-Clark called Poise Pads designed to
aid us ladies of “a certain age” in our time of need. Well – I can now tell you from experience that
no amount of maximum absorbency is going to accommodate the entire Succor Creek
drainage during spring run-off. Those puppies swell up the size of a loaf of
bread. I am currently gluten free. I grabbed a stick – dug a cat-hole deep
enough to bury a 24 oz loaf of Eddy’s bread and called it good.
The boys managed to render the precarious trail over the
rock outcropping negotiable. It was a steep lunge up a rock wall. Everyone made
it to the top in once piece. Some of us more damp than others – but in one albeit
soggy piece.
We stopped at the edge of a cow pasture for lunch. Lee,
Mark, Scott and Patty found a spot along the hillside strewn with rocks big
enough to use as mounting blocks for Patty. Not only is her mule really tall –
but she has a bad hip that requires a little assistance on climbing aboard
Nellie Rose.
I stayed on the flat where I could find wood to build a
fire. Fortunately, the cantle pack of my bags stayed afloat enough to keep the
top pocket dry. I keep a small bag of emergency fire starter in it for just
these occasions. Scott joined me in my fire building endeavor by adding thistle
as tinder and propping up my saddle blanket next to the fire to dry. I emptied
my saddle bags and laid the contents out to dry while pouring the water out of
my boots and Buck’s Bags. My phone made a few strange noises before powering
itself off. Everything was soaked. My camera, my pistol – my phone – boots,
underwear…everything but that one little bag of emergency supplies.
I waited until I was about 80% dry before throwing the
saddle on J’Lo for the trip back to camp. I figured Jack deserved the break. I
knew my pistol, GPS and InReach would be salvageable. The camera and phone had
me worried. While they are both replaceable – I hate losing the pictures they
contained.
Back at camp, I went about changing into dry clothes before
heading on over to the others campfire for Chili and peach cobbler. Susan joined
us for the evening campfire. While they chuckled about my adventure in the big
drink – I turned to Susan and professed that with the COVID-19 mandated six
foot rule, I feared my riding partners would have let me drown. Lee grinned and
confessed to the contrary: “The first thing that crossed my mind was I was
actually a little concerned for you. The next thing that went through my head
was – dang…I’m going to have to get my new boots wet!”
I slept well that night after a hot shower and a glass of
milk and chocolate chip cookies. The next morning, I hobbled the horses out to
graze while I tore down camp. The others had left by the time I got back from
staking out the horses.
Reader boards lined highway 201 prohibiting out of state
hunting and fishing until after the COVID-19 pandemic. I didn’t know COVID
preyed on out of state hunters and anglers – but whatever. The boards said
nothing about the legality of skinny dipping. Even if it had – being the law abiding
citizen I am…I do my dipping fully clothed and wearing every conceivable
electronic device known to man.
As I look through the pictures – I am reminded of lessons learned: Spend more time in the desert with good people. Take the time to enjoy life’s scenic vistas and eat the peach cobbler before the wind blows it way. Invest in a water proof camera bag. Most importantly, if you are going to underestimate the depth of the water, you better be “poised” to absorb the consequences. I’m thinking only a few women of “a certain age" are going to get that last sentence.
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