Trail Log: 8-10-2023

August 10^th – Pine Lakes

Ashes and Avalanches

• Trail: Pine Lakes - Summit Point to Pack Station
• Miles: 17
• Riders: Self - Lee
• Horses: Jack - King

August 10^th. The date is a thing for me. It's when I try to make my annual trek to Pine Lakes in the Eagle Cap Wilderness. I've made the trek before this date and I've made it after. While going after is totally acceptable, I avoid it because I like to see the lakes full to the brim and wildflowers of every color under the sun. To go before is to risk adverse conditions including but not limited to: deep snow fields – impassable snow monoliths – failure to locate trail due to snow coverage – dangerous creek crossings courtesy of snow melt. This is not an exhaustive list. It is merely one that covers those conditions I have personally discovered the hard way. With that said – it has been worth it...every single time.

I rode into Pine Lakes for the first time nearly 40 years ago. The date was August 10^th. The trail was in good shape...a lot better than it is now. The Forest Service no longer maintains trails. They are mandated by law to do so and is, in fact, one of their primary responsibilities...but, well, that's a discussion for a different blog. Thankfully, outside groups such as Back Country Horseman – Cornucopia Pack Station Outfitters and others have picked up the slack.

August 10^{th, 2023} was rolling up quickly. Lee had never been to the area surrounding Pine Likes. I told him I would be making my annual trek and would be more than happy to have him join me. I also added my disclaimer: It is rugged country. The navigability of the trails are unpredictable. We could end up fighting our way to the very end of the trail only to encounter an obstacle forcing us to turn back the way we came. It would be a 17 mile ride in perfect conditions and possibly twice that if Murphy shows up. By definition – this would be a “Lee Ride.”

While on that subject, I am going to take the time and the words to digress a bit. The term “Trail Ride.” Two words that together might evoke a benign connotation. A group of riders frolicking merrily down a groomed trail on their way to a catered wine tasting experience. That's one type. Then there is the other: The type we call a “Lee Ride.” Both Trail rides and Lee rides suggest the involvement of a horse and rider. The similarities end there.

There may or may not be a trail on a Lee ride. If The Lee ride does indeed follow a trail of some fashion – you can bet your puckered butt cheeks you won't meet a dude string on it. It might be on a map – it might not. You learn to embrace a Lee Ride and just go with it. Consequently, Lee did not bat an eye at my disclaimer. Lee does not drink – but that did not stop me from replenishing my Fireball flask.

Lee and Susan drove to The Cabin the evening before. I would rather ride a loop than up and back. We parked his truck, also called “The Beast” at Cornucopia. If the trail gods were with us – we would loop around the back side of the lakes and come out at the pack station. We would haul the horses in my rig and put in at Summit Point.

I feel if you survive the haul in you're halfway through the battle. The usual steep, winding roads littered with potholes and washboards threaten to vibrate you off the mountainside. I suppose it if were easy to get to – it wouldn't be worth going.

Jack's hind feet still cannot support a shoe. I put his Easy Boot sneakers on the backs and carried an extra pair that will slip over his fronts if needed. He would likely need them. I don't think they make a boot that will hold up in terrain like what is in the Eagle Caps. Miles of granite and shale make short work of a rubber sole. I carried the extra set betting I'd need them before we got off the mountain. It was a bet easily won.

Putting in at Summit Point starts you out at a higher elevation so the ascent is not as steep. The short grade from the parking lot to the trail head skirting the lookout to me is the worst. From there, it is approximately 3 miles to Little Eagle Meadows and Schneider's Cabin.

I've seen Schneider's cabin in better condition than we found it this year... I've seen it in a lot worse, too. I don't know the history of the cabin other than the name. I assume it was built by Chris Schneider – long time resident and multi-term mayor of Cornucopia. A trip to the local museum is on my list.

You leave Little Eagle Meadows and begin to ascend quickly. The trail is not for the faint of heart. Straight up on one side – straight down on the other and nothing for footing but sure-footed pony and a prayer. There is one ravine in particular that gives me a bit of the willies. Jack wasn't old enough to ride back then so I was leading him with packs loaded with gear. We came to the ravine – up on the high side lay a saddle blanket. Strewn straight down the ravine as far as you can see was pack boxes and gear. I don't know if a horse or mule could survive that wreck and wondered what lay beyond.

We passed through a saddle and up the ridge to where the trail forks: Crater Lake one way – Pine Lakes the other. Lee had casually mentioned earlier he would like to check out Crater Lake as well. It's not that far from Pine Lakes but it is slow going. We would not have time to get to both in a day ride. We took the Pine Lakes trail and worked our way over a downed tree blocking the trail.

The view from the top of the ridge looking down on Pine Lakes is deceiving. It looks like you are almost there from this vantage point. You are not. Last year a tall monolith of a glacier blocked the trail at the highest point. You couldn't go around from either side or through it. Three of us spent an hour hacking at it before shoving it over the edge and continuing on.

August 10^th did not disappoint. The lakes were filled to the brim. Small patches of innocuous snow added to the aesthetics of one of Gods greatest masterpieces. You would be hard pressed to find a more beautiful place.

Dropping into the lakes from the back side is one of the more challenging sections. Not challenging as in particularly dangerous....it's just straight down over granite switchback after switchback. I find it best to zone out, trust your horse and get down it without thinking too much. I have seen where this section of switchbacks is referred to as The Nip and Tuck. However, I believe the official Nip and Tuck is on the other side of the lakes going out via the Pack Station. I've seen the latter on an old (very old) map my Uncle showed me years ago. Either way, it is an adequate description for both.

We hobbled the horses in a large meadow above the lake. A web of rills feed the meadow producing a carpet of lush grass dotted with wildflowers of purple, yellow and orange. If I get to pick – this would be a good place to die.

I set my lunch aside, gathered my camera and told Lee I would be back shortly. There is something I have to do. I climbed down a steep ravine carved over the ages by a creek cascading to the lakes below. I sat on the same large downfall laying directly in the center of the V of the ravine I'd discovered almost 4 decades before. Orange Indian Paintbrush and yellow mountain daisy framed the pristine blue lakes. This shot would reenact a photograph spanning 40 years. When my days are done here on earth, my ashes will become part of this masterpiece.

I mentioned to Lee that I was going to make my kids pack my ashes up the mountain and spread them in the spot overlooking the lakes – assuming they can find my dead carcass. He casually shrugged and said: “Heck, I'll do it for them.” While that's a terribly sweet thing to offer, it was a bit disturbing, too. Lee is older than I am. He said it with such confidence I was left wondering what the hell does he know that I don't?

We finished the descent into the lakes. No turning back now. This is where I get a little nervous. Would the trail leading out be passable? If not - the thought of riding back out the 8+ miles we came in wasn't something I relished.

We skirted the lakes. I could see that naked girl rock was mostly under water. I pointed to the infamous spot: "She'd have to be a skinny naked girl to be sunbathing on that this year!" Lee gave me a puzzled look. I grinned: "I'm not admitting to anything and that's all I'm saying about that!"

Lee hailed a small encampment of tents pitched on the small stretch of earth seperating the two lakes. "Hello in camp!" We visited briefly before continuing around to cross Pine Creek at the base of the dam. I sent up a silent prayer that Murphy was on vacation in the back country of some other planet as we started the descent toward home.

The Nip N Tuck switch-backs over a mountain face of granite. You wouldn't call it a walk in the park but it was vastly improved. It looked like somebody had somehow broken up the obstacles of granite boulders that had blocked the trail in previous years. In their place lay shards.

As we zig-zagged down the mountain – an overview of the wooded valley below came into view. A huge swath of downfall and debris consumed the trail below. Lee had seen this type of thing before: Avalanche. We'd have to find a way through or around it. There wasn't enough day left to turn back. Damn you Murphy.

Part way off the mountain, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. I turned to catch a glimpse of a young mountain goat disappearing behind a jagged rock formation. I'd never seen mountain goats in all the years on this trail! I kept looking for it hoping to get a picture but it remained hid. I fought the urge to hike up to the formation and see what there was to see. We didn't have the time. Next year...

We had arrived at the avalanche carnage and was relieved to find a path had been cleared through the debris. Take that, Murphy! Beneath the debris lay several feet of snow. The snow supported King better than it did Jack but we managed to get through to the other side without incident.

Nothing looked familiar. The avalanche had totally changed the landscape of this section of trail. We crossed a creek that wasn't there before. I pulled out my GPS to verify we were still following the right trail. When I finally reached something that did look familiar – I realized we weren't nearly as far as I thought.

The remainder of trail was unaltered by time, avalanches or other natural phenomena. We soon reached the familiar trail disappearing over a massive array of granite boulders. Holes drilled into the rock for blasting scarred the granite giants in pockmarks.

We reached my least favorite part of the loop: an exposed, barren hillside of loose shale that ate the toes out of Jack's Easy Boot sneakers. They weren't designed for this type of terrain but had held up better than I expected. They had served their purpose.

It was close to 6:00 PM when we reached the pack station. The couple that run the outfitting business were outside working on a mule. We stopped and talked for a good hour. The couple asked how the trail was coming off The Nip N Tuck. They were the ones who had cleared the way off the Nip N Tuck and cut a path through the avalanche debris. That was a LOT of work. I explained that I grew up in this area and rode around Cornucopia often. They invited me to stop in anytime. It is an offer I will surely accept.

Lee's trusty “Beast” (coolest truck ever) waited to haul us home. We stashed the horses in the portable panels I set up at The Cabin. Lee drove me back to Summit Point to pick up my rig. By the time I got off the Summit, hauled Jack and turned him out and arrived back at The Cabin– it was 9:00PM. Susan and Lee would spend another night before returning home.

Epilogue:

Normally my trail logs are no more than a few paragraphs in length. I log the name of the trail– the miles rode – the riders, horses and dogs that participated and a short description under "notes." An August 10^th trail log is special...at least to me. As a result – this trail log is longer than most out of necessity. There are several reason I blog.

One: I write because, well...because it's what I do. Same for breathing and blinking. Try going without either of those and see how it turns out.

Two: I blog so that my grandkids know I did something in my retirement years other than watch reality TV and eat bon-bons. (do they even make bon-bons any more?)

Three: I can't remember shit. Seriously. If I don't write it down, it didn't happen. Proof in point: The disappearance of The Wilderness Tree.

I believe I am resistant to change. As we entered Little Eagle Meadows – we came upon a newly erected (at least within the last year) Eagle Cap Wilderness boundary sign. I found that odd since we weren't yet in the wilderness. The official, albeit old, wilderness boundary sign is nailed to The Wilderness Tree a few miles up the trail from Schneider's Cabin. Jim Palmer – if you are reading this – you are surely shaking your head and cracking up about now.

We crossed Little Eagle meadow and proceeded to climb toward the the sky-lit saddle. A few miles in, I realized I hadn't yet seen the Wilderness Tree. I didn't miss it...I never miss it. It's one of the landmarks I look forward to when making this trip. The sign is old and has broken in to pieces but somebody always nails it back on it's rightful place on the Wilderness Tree.

We came to where the Wilderness Tree once stood; a regal sentry...guardian of the realm between civilized society and untamed wilds. No "sign" of the dilapidated wooden artifact OR tree to be found. Those bastards. They don't have time or resources to clear trail but they can find it in their cold, shriveled little hearts to cut down a treasured, historical tree and place the sign in another location....THE WRONG LOCATION. What kind of a sick mind would do such a thing? What's next...decapitation of the Statue of Liberty? I would stew and grumble for miles.

Some time later, as we descended the Nip and Tuck...it hit me. I hadn't seen the Wilderness tree because we hadn't got to it yet! It's not on the Summit Side of the lakes – it's on the Pack Station side! I whacked myself in the forehead with my palm: Is this what it's like to get old?

Sure enough – between the avalanche sight and the Red Bridge – my Wilderness Tree loomed proud and regal...sporting a brand-spanking new “Eagle Cap Wilderness” sign. Sorry Forest Service...I take back calling you sick bastards. However, the sign you put up in Little Eagle is still in the wrong spot!

The end of my August 10^th adventure brings me to why I blog reason number four: Humor.

To find the humor in adversity and every day life is essential to me. By the end of the day, if you can't laugh at yourself and find the humor in the fumbles, misfortunes and mishaps...what are we here for? Why would God give to us and no other animal on the planet, the gift of laughter? If we were merely the accidental product of a “Big Bang” - we would not possess the ability to laugh.

I won't speak for anybody else – but I know for sure I'm not getting out of this world alive. I could get thrown off my horse and eaten by a pack of wolves tomorrow. I could pass away in my sleep at 102. I could die of cancer in 6 months. There's only one person that knows the how and when and He, thankfully...ain't telling.

When my time does come and my kids are cussing me for requesting they pack my remains over the Nip N Tuck at 8,000 feet elevation – I pray they find solace in something I have written. Perhaps it will be this very blog. As the wind lifts my ashes, think of them as tiny grains of laughter sprinkling down over orange Indian paintbrush and yellow mountain daisies...to be carried gently on the breeze to the pristine blue waters of Pine Lakes below. 

The Wilderness Tree

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: 7-26-2023

FISH LAKE - LEE CAMP
I DID A THING!

&

The Tea Bag Crisis

Part 3.

Drifter and Twister

• July 26^th – Russel Mt Lookout to Sugarloaf Res – 12.4 miles
• Riders: Self – Phil M
• Horses: Drifter – Twister
• Dogs: Hank – Groot – Pearl

Susan offered to cook breakfast for everyone. Her camp grill was full up with bacon and hash browns so I cooked the scrambled eggs in my kitchen. Others pitched in strawberries, plumbs, zucchini bread and various other food items. It has been my experience that nobody goes hungry when they are camping. I might live on Pop Tarts and Twinkies any other time ...but when I'm camped out – I take the time to cook real food. The only other occasion I might spend more time in the kitchen is during Thanksgiving...and double that if I happen to be spending Turkey Day in the Owyhee's chukkar hunting!

Lee, Marc, Pattie, Bernice and Brownie Jim rode off toward Horse Lake. While it's one of my favorite spots in this area, I opted to got in a different direction. I wanted to ride Drifter in a smaller group and somewhere I was more familiar with. Drifter has never been in the high country. We would encounter downfall – bog – deep, hidden creek trenches and who knows what else. Phil and I ride together a lot in Arizona as we are basically neighbors. I would be more comfortable staying in this comfort zone for Drifters first high country excursion.

With GPS fired up and ready to go, I led us toward Russel Mt. We decided to try and make it to Sugarloaf Reservoir. It doesn't matter how many times I'd been to the area – if I'm not the one driving...I have no idea where I'm at or how to get back. Riding is no exception. Lee or Marc has always led the way. While they do an excellent job of trying to explain where we are in relation to everywhere else we've been...it just doesn't sink in. I nod my head pretending like I know what the hell they are talking about but really, all I hear is: Waah wah waaah waah...shirtless guy trail....waaah wah wa.

I put Easy Boot Glove front boots on Drifter knowing we would be riding on gravel to get to the trail head. They are a little big for him still so I wondered how well they would stay on through some of the bog and downfall. No time like the present to find out.

We rode up the gravel road to the lookout on Russel Mountain and followed the sign to Sugarloaf trail. This section of trail is well maintained compared to many of the others. I considered taking off Drifters boots but decided against it. I was curious to see how they would hold up over this varied and often technical terrain.

Sections of the trail became familiar to me. I remembered landmarks and certain areas from last years trip. Three miles or so in, we ride up on a large meadow. ONE TREE MEADOW! Earlier in the week, Lee had been trying to describe a section of this trail he said that I had dubbed: One Tree Meadow. I could not for the life of me recall any such thing. I pretended to go along with it and assumed he was confusing me with some other Laurie that rides a striped back buckskin and can't find her way out of her own bathroom.

It all came back to me the moment One Tree Meadow came in to view. I had Phil take my picture in front of the lone tree that stood dead center of the large meadow. For the first time in maybe...ever, I knew where I was! Now if I could just figure out where we were going...

"We go this way!" I recognized the small knoll we climbed to get out of the meadow as the trail had all been obliterated with time. Soon we arrived at a crossroads. New signage had been nailed to the old post: Deadman Trail one way – Sugarloaf Trail the other. I recognized this trail as one I hiked years ago with my youngest son and his cousin. I took their picture under the sign as they rested. Aside from the new signage, it was the same spot. For the second time..maybe ever....I knew where I was!

The trail to the lake seems to vanish here. We would wing it the rest of the way. The area surrounding the lake is bog and tall grass concealing deep, narrow trenches. As far as a horse is concerned, the black cuts in the earth are bottomless pits. Drifter did pretty good with the bog. He didn't like it, but he did it. At first he did OK crossing the hidden trenches until he fell in one. After that...not so much. One particular spot gave us the most trouble. Phil had found a spot we thought he might handle better. It was wider and you could actually see the bottom. It should not have been an issue for him. He has crossed many creeks. He was not about to this one. Phil brought Twister back and forth trying to get him to follow. For a split second I got him to put one hoof in only to step gingerly back out. He's crossed bodies of water a dozen times both on lead and under saddle. Plan B. I moved us 6 feet to the right to a section overgrown with meadow grass so thick you could not see the 6 inch wide trench. He couldn't see it – but he new it was there, gathered his butt under him and vaulted over. Works for me.

Phil, Twister and Pearl

We weaved up and around until popping up onto the lake itself. I did it! I did a thing! I found my way to the lake without being guided. Getting back might be another "thing" altogether but I would worry about that later. Phil fished while the dogs and I explored the lake and used my InReach tethered to my phone to send my son, Dillon, a Happy Birthday text. We didn't stay long due to not getting the earliest start. With no fish to fry for breakfast, we mounted up and headed for camp.

We stopped at the crossroad of Deadman Trail and Sugerloaf. Somewhere in the wee corners of my recollection, I remember Marc talking about him and Pattie getting back to camp from Sugarloaf via Deadman. I could not remember the details...something about waaah wahh waaah waaah wa – shirtless guy trail waaah waaah wah. I knew camp was in the direction Deadman trail was heading. We agreed to give it a try.

The farther we got down the trail – the more I started to second guess our decision. The trail started to curve away from camp. It wasn't getting any earlier I did not have Jack's saddle bags that carry everything I would need to survive a night or two in the high-country; including batteries for my quickly discharging GPS.

I pulled out the GPS – camp was less than a quarter of a mile over the ridge leaving DMT to the east. "It's just over this ridge. I know it." We took the chance to cross country and see if we could bush-whack our way over the ridge to camp. Not far in our endeavor, I noticed orange flagging tied to various vegetation. The sight of those orange bits of flagging niggled at my brain. Oh-well – carry on. The downfall was crazy. You had to ride 5 times as far to get to any one spot. We had almost made it to the crest of the ridge when the downfall became unsurpassable...at least in the amount of daylight we had remaining. We needed to go back the way we came and live to explore another day.

We again road by the orange flagging. Something Marc and Pattie were talking about. Did they leave it? Was this the spot they tried to cross as well and found it not doable? I was past the explorer spirit and rapidly approaching irritation. I bet if Marc had been talking about a half naked guy on this trail I would have paid more attention!

We stopped at the crossroads to try and get our bearings. I'm almost positive that if we had continued down Deadman, we would have ended up on Naked Guy trail and back to camp. I'd have to find out if that was true back at the safety of camp. I did not have the confidence to lead us down another rabbit hole and I was getting grouchy. Phil knows me well enough to know when I'm getting a tad grouchy. He hung back and let Drifter and I forge on in hopes of finding the trail that would take us back the way we came.

We made one more short, navigational inaccuracy that cost us another mile. A mile isn't much unless you are fighting your way through a game of pick-up-sticks over dozens of downfall. Phil put more distance between himself and a seething fountain of profanity. "Damn it...I knew this was the wrong way. @#$@ #@!!....Deadman @$%@ @$# !#$%% Orange pieces of $#1T...Should have gone to Naked trail...@$#..Deadman my @$$.

I found it humorous, later...much later...how the renaming of Clear Creek Trail changed in direct proportion to my frustration. As the week progressed - the Shirtless Guy on Clear Creek Trail had lost what little clothing remained. By the end of the week, he was buck naked.

We quickly corrected the navigational error (sounds better than couldn't find our @$$es from a hole in the ground) and were on the trail back to where we started. All in all, we added approximately 3 miles of FUBAR to our journey. Not too bad, considering.

On the gravel road back to camp we discovered Phil's mare, Twister, that thrown a shoe. Twister wears special shoes that cost a small fortune but keep her sound. Most likely the shoe sucked off in a spot that was particularly boggy. Both horses floundered around in it and one of Drifter's boots came partially off. The Easy Boot gloves use a gaiter system so even if the hoof part gets pulled off, the gaiter usually holds the whole thing on. We didn't notice Twisters missing shoe until we hit the gravel.

Going down hill was harder on her. Phil dismounted and Drifter got his first lesson in ponying a horse. It could have gone south as Twister does not like Drifter. She's in love with Jack but finds Drifter to be a childish annoying. 10 minutes before she had thrown one at him. I figured Drifter would be leery of her after that. Instead, he pinned his ears at her when she got to close to him and put her in her place. Jack's not here to save you now, sister – get use to it.

Phil waited on the hillside while I took the horses back to camp. I was still in somewhat of a foul mood. Lee seemed to pick up on it and took it upon himself to retrieve Phil while I put the horses away. I was proud of Drifter. It was a day full of many firsts for him and aside from balking at one creek crossing, he handled himself like the confident, fearless little guy that is a delight to ride. The day had dispelled any doubts I may have had of him following in his Uncle Jack's hoof prints and becoming a great mountain horse.

In the end – it was a great experience for me. I cannot visualize the geography of an area by listening to someone else or following their lead. My mind cannot decipher where this lake is in relation to that mountain and what trail intersects with another. I have to forge on myself, make mistakes...hopefully not die from them and figure it out on my own.

That evening, I picked Marc's brain on the route and questioned him about the orange flags. Him and Pattie did indeed leave them. They had also tried to shortcut over the ridge and had failed as we had. At least we were in good company! He verified that Deadman would have connected with Naked and brought us back to camp. I felt better about life knowing my assumptions were correct. Even though I lacked the confidence to trust those assumptions. Today's experience went a long way in boosting that confidence.

It had been a long day. I rummaged through my supplies for the makings of a cup of hot tea. I found a packet containing an individually wrapped Lipton Tea Bag. It was like finding a little, yellow gold plated treasure. Lipton does not make them anymore. Like everything else in the world – Lipton wraps their bags in plastic or foil; like that is somehow more environmentally sound. It's one of those things in life that annoys the crap out of me. I've looked in every store from Walmart to Family dollar for individually paper wrapped Lipton Tea bags to no avail. I searched on-line. They try to fool you by touting them as “individual” tea bags...not individually wrapped. Can't fool me Lipton! I had to accept this form of blasphemy and move on. I now drink only Red Rose tea, proudly packaged in individually wrapped little papers. I am at peace.

Trail Log: 8-3-2023

• Trail: Cornucopia Hwy - Tunnel Creek
• Miles: 8.13   
• Riders: Self
• Horses: Jack - Drifter
• Dogs: Hank - Groot

Notes: Intended to head out early but ended up being delayed with a flat tire on the trailer. Thankfully it happened in my field and not while I was out in the boonies with it. Although, I suppose it is no harder to change a flat in the boonies than it is your field. At least this way I could get it right in to be repaired. 

I rode Jack and ponied Drifter. Rode as far as Tunnel Creek. Mud Lake is not much farther but with the late start I wanted to get back before it started to heat up. 

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

Click here for full set of pictures