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.