The short version for those with ADHD:  Rode 10 days in spectacular beauty, ate great, slept under the stars, great trail boss, really good group of people, wildlife, fishing, bathing in 40 degree creeks

7/20 – We met and started out of Foristell, Mo  at about 8pm on a Friday evening, taking I-70 to KC, then I-29 North up to Sioux Falls, then I-90 west through S. Dakota, Wyoming and most of Montana.  There were eight of us in three trucks, three horse trailers with five horses and three mules – long term family members whose owners did not want to ride the Continental Divide without them.  

My intro to the group was– “This is Wild Bill from Bunker Hill, never worked & never will” like a bullhorn through the CB.   In fact, I’m not sure he needed the CB.  Bill kept up endless chatter,  keeping everyone awake through the nights.  “We’re on vacation!  Got no schedule!”  would be the calling card for two weeks.

We drove through the night up to Sioux Falls, and then it was daylight driving across South Dakota.  I have never seen so much hay & straw – round & huge square bales going 2000 lbs a piece, and farms going on as far as the eye could see.  This went on for hundreds of miles.  For some reason, it seemed a lot different than Midwest farms where the horizon is usually a mile or so into the field.  Here the horizon was mountain ranges 50 miles away.   We saw a lot of elk & deer helping themselves to the hay.   For some reason, America the Beautiful kept going on in my head about the amber waves of grain,

We let the horses out in Sioux Falls, and then again in Wyoming at rest areas.

Drove through Sturgis a week before bike week, and stopped in Deadwood, SD for some drinks at the #10 Saloon where Wild Bill Hickock was shot.  Good old saloon with sawdust on the floors.   

Stopped in Wyoming at a rest area for horses & for us.  Actually, Dan did not stop in time and passed the exit up;  He made sure that the others took the exit.  We slowed down, and being that it was in the middle of nowhere did a U turn down the entrance ramp.  The other two trucks did a perfect “Baghdad block” of the roads in all other directions to let us come down the ramp and onto the road.  

 We had dinner in Buffalo, Wyoming, and then picked up Paul at the  Helena airport at 3am. 

7/22 -  The last 150 miles or so were on State routes with lots of switchbacks, at 3-5am in the morning.  The last 10 miles were dirt, and pretty well unmarked, but we found it, by gosh.  We pulled into camp at 5:30 am up at Indian Meadows after about 36 hours on the road.  We then commenced to setting up camp, started a fire and  by 8am most of us were pretty toasted. 

Skinny had a little trouble with time at this point.  Or directions, not sure which.  We were talking about which direction North was, when Skinny interrupted us and aksed Wild Bill “Are you an idiot?? The sun is settin’ in the West so that is West!” he said, pointing to the East.    Everyone looked at him and told him it was just rising and after denying it once, he allowed “well, if you say so”.

Paul went and took a nap and Skinny took offense, yelling at him, “All you did was ride in a damn airplane, get  out here, Jackleg!”

Jamie & I went into town to load up on beer & ice for everyone.

About 3, our trail boss Brett rode in with another group from the mountains and then came over to meet our group and settle up.  He then left and went back home to Big Timber for a few days before coming back on Tuesday with the food. 

About 5, some of us drove down to the creek to wash up, with Jamie flying down the road after us on his mule Rose.  The creek was colder than hell, about 45 degrees.  You could barely stand in there for long.  Afterwards we went into town for dinner.

Later, Skinny went for a clean up in the creek.  He actually laid there in that icy water and let his drawers float away – too many tobacco stains, he said.   Jamie said he looked like a white birch laying in the creek.    

Jamie had a red mule named Rose – and she was like a lap dog.  He could turn her loose and she would not run away – she hung around camp all night without a halter.  During the night, she opened up my cooler & drank all the water out of it.

7/23 – Rode up to Heart Lake and went fishing (9mile R/T).  Nobody caught anything, but we got some nicknames straight, Wild Bill, Big Bill, & Jackleg; Turkey & Charlie.

Went to the crick again to wash up and went to Bootleggers for dinner – shots provided  by Dan.   We met an old couple who packed their own way into the wilderness some times.  They were telling that grizzly were plentiful and we should see some.  They also told us about going up on Scapegoat mountain, and that the trail ended and you had to walk a good ways up the mountain.  Except they heard of one outfitter that actually took horses up there. 

7/24 – Day 1- Got up at 5:30, rarin’  to go.

Went through ’03 burn first.  Trees were still standing & black, all foliage and ground cover gone. After going through a burn for a while, the trail became beautiful for about 12.5 miles.

We ate lunch at Webb Lake Ranger station.  Built in 1901, Brett knew where the key was and let us in – it looked like a museum piece.  These stations were manned full time until the late ‘50’s, and tied together via telephone lines to all of the other ranger stations & lookout towers.  As we rode later, we would see bits of line & insulators in trees.  Now they were just used for temporary shelter for rangers.  The latest district ranger has been in place 4 years and has been into the wilderness 3 times.

Brett had a dry sense of humor, the kind where he would just drop a statement and see if someone gets it.  When we were leaving, everyone was mounted except Dan.  Pretty soon, Dan comes out of the outhouse  in a hurry, without his hat.  Brett said lowly,  “huh – must have been a bad one” (meaning - if he had to use his hat for tp).

Brett had a trail dog, Tank with us, a blue heeler.  This dog was only 15 months old, but was a veteran.  He would run off into the trees at the slightest smell of something, and dig around then beeline back to the riders.  When he was with us, he would walk within inches of the hooves, and then dart off again.  For every mile we rode, he must have run five. 

After lunch the trail ride then went through ’88 burn where many trees had started falling but many still stood.  Deadfall looked like God’s Lincoln Log set full size thrown through the forest.  Unreal to see the trees laying there and piled up all over each other.   My idea of a forest fire was that everything burned to the ground, and that it was rejuvenated in 10-20 years.  Here it was 20 years later and the pines that were coming back were 4- 5 ft tall.   Instead of burning everything to the ground the forest fires actually burn all of the ground cover, and all of the foliage and branches off a tree, but the trees remain standing, dead & scorched.  It takes years for them then to rot enough to fall over.  It is a very eerie site to see. 

Brett explained that the Forest Service, with the manned ranger stations and all had been preventing fires for 100 years.  Fuel built up.  In 1988 they decided that was the wrong approach – fires are a natural event and they should let it burn.  The problem was switching from one extreme to the other.  The ‘88 fire burned in a small area for two months – could have been put out at any time.  Then, with high winds and dry air in September, it burned 250,000 acres in 36 hours.  The only thing to put it out was 16 inches of snow in mid-September.

The first camp was at Meadow Creek – a semi-permanent elk hunting camp that Brett uses in the fall.  First rate.  Wall tents set up with cots and stoves; a cook tent with table.  Popcorn! Jamie, jackleg, Brandon and Jess played some  horseshoes, while John & Eric went fishing.  Eric caught a few; John caught a keeper and had it cooked for Charlie for dinner.

We turned horses loose into a meadow, actually two meadows connected, then walled in by trees & hills.   Pack animals would stay together, especially if they are hungry.  Rose of course came back to camp to eat around people.

This was Dan’s birthday, and after a few cocktails, his sisters presented him with some presents, and our cook, Conway made him a birthday cake.   

After dinner, sitting around the fire, Brett told us this trip would have a little bit of heaven and a little bit of hell – can’t have too much or too little of either or it would not be an experience. He was true to his word.

When the wranglers went out to get the stock, Josephine & Hotshot were not with them.  They looked until after dark but did not find them.  That put a damper on things and was a foreshadow of events to come.  

When I went to take a leak in the middle of the night there was a deer staring at me from about 8 feet, then off to the left I hear rustling and look over – at Rose. 

Brett turned their stock loose about 5am and went out and found Hotshot & Josie and wrangled them back to camp. No harm, no foul, but you could see Brett was thinking that our stock was going to be trouble.

Intro of the characters:

• Trail Boss – Brett Todd, former Professional Bull Rider for 10 years, 17 counting high school & juniors.  Been Outfitting ever since, puts together summer fishing & riding trips, Fall (winter to us) big hunting trips.  Has killed a few bears, many deer & elk, and his prize pelt is an elk that he witnessed being taken down by a mountain lion, then chased the mountain lion off.  He has had two close encounters with bears.  They had 25 kids in his K-12 school, with three in his class – two boys and a girl named Julie who he ended up marrying.  Been in Big Timber all his life.  Has a working ranch, and provided all of the meat from the ranch.  Julie also provided all of the home made jelly and some pie fixings.
• Cookie -  Jim Conway – usually does a few weeks of hunting camps in the Fall.  First time for a roving camp,  when he isn’t cooking he is a gentleman farmer in Wisconsin. 
• Wranglers – Jesse (Jesse James to Skinny), 23, from Plevna, Montana, a Russian settlement in the Eastern part .  Works as a welder on the oil rigs during the off season. Brandon, 20, from Quincy, Illinois who at 17 decided he wanted to be a cowboy and headed to Montana.  Worked for free for six months until he caught on with Brett clearing trails.  Could not discern if he did anything in the off season.
• Dan – Trail boss Coordinator (sounds kind of wussy, but that is what he wanted to be called) on Hotshot (or as some called him, buzzard bait because he was 25 years old and looking a bit past his prime) (the horse, not Dan).
• Turkey (Diana), Dan’s sister on Josephine
• Charlie (Cheryl), Dan’s other sister, on Midnight
• Big John, Charlie’s husband,  on Poncho
• Wild Bill (from Bunker Hill) on another Midnight
• Skinny, the 69 year old patriarch of the ride, on the white mule Sunday
• Jamie, Skinny’s son,  on his red mule Rosebud
• Jackleg (Paul) on various horses
• Eric on Margaret
• Big Bill on Big Sam – a very cool, big black Percheron
• Tank – Trail Dog

7/25 – Day 2 – Rode about 13.3 miles.  I got to switch horses to Big Sam, a big black Percheron that had more than one walking speed, a nice comfortable ride,  a good trot and would take me places I did not think a big horse could go.  This horse is a BIG horse.  He loved to go fast up hills, so I had to hold him back then let him have his head and let him get up the way he wanted to.  Many thought my legs would be stretched too far and be uncomfortable, but things fit well.   Brett had bought Sam for $300 from a farmer that said he “wouldn’t work”.  I kept joking with Brett about buying him and giving him 10% on his money.   The joke was that this horse was probably worth at least $3,000 and Brett told a story about  a friend who had raised a 2 year old Percheron and sold him in Illinois for $32,000.

We went through a lot of the ’88 burn to start, which included a lot of deadfall, to the point that the trail gets blocked by new fallen trees every time they ride, so they carry a two man saw.  The trip was to the North Fork falls. 

Most of the day was through the ‘73 burn, and it was very hot.  This burn had pines in the 10-20 foot range, but still very little shade.  We spent a good bit of time riding along a ridge trail, overlooking a valley down below where creeks and even large streams meandered.  

We had a lot of trees to cut, and Big John was up front, so at each tree he and Jess would get down & saw it or push it clear.  At first Jess seemed to get down at even small stuff that we had been going over earlier.  As the day wore on, and Jess got a bit exhausted, he started judging some big old trees as something “we can get around”. 

We got to the falls at lunch time.  They are about 150’ tall and the largest in the Wilderness areas.  Pretty cool formations.  Jess, then Eric, then John decided to descend a goat trail that was about vertical for the opportunity to dive into a really large, cold pool.  The rest of us old timers took it easy in the shade.

We then backtracked to the new camp at Camp Creek.  This was a spike camp for Brett – a camp further out in the wilderness than his main camp, and only seldom used.  He had previously made a rough corral and had some poles to make an A frame over the kitchen area, but trees had crashed through it all since his previous stay, so there was not too much but the corral. 

First time to pitch tents.  Jackleg and I had his blue nylon, and it was pretty easy.  Turkey had a one man that was pretty easy.  The rest had teepees and we had to make tent stakes and ridge poles.   Once we started relaxing, we found we could mix our whiskey with either nothing – or the ever present pitcher of Orange Tang – so a new drink was invented and one we drank the rest of the trip – Wang!  A second one was Crown Royal( or Mr. Beam or anything else)  with coffee – a coffee Royal. 

That night, I decided the hell with a tent, I wanted to see the stars anyway, so I followed the lead of the cowboys and just used a mantie pack tarp and rolled my bag into that.

My first introduction to one of Tank’s endearing qualities.  In the middle of the  night he will come lay on your head, and then start trying to snuggle into your sleeping bag.  He goes around to each person who is out to see the best deal he can get.

7/26  -- Day 3   Started bad.  They had run the horses into a boxed canyon in the morning to get fed, but then took a while to round up.  When they did come back, Margaret was missing.  The canyon was surrounded by downed trees, and she had gotten spooked and jumped into the timber.  Could not catch her.  Eric & Conway stayed back all day and looked for her and waited to see if she would come out.  If not, the thought is that she would get out and hit one of the trails and be found by another outfitter or make it to the trail head.  Split some of the pack out and left it there for Brett to pick up the next time he would be at that camp. 

We got out about noon.  We intended to climb up and over Galusha Peak, while the pack train took a longer route around the mountain, but with the late start, we all took the same route around.  Good thing, this was the first day of rain and we could see a lot of lighting strikes up on the peak.  A beautiful ride of about 10 miles, much of the time up on ridges with the trail pretty narrow and Big Sam making his own trail at times.  Charlie said his feet were bigger than the trail.  Someone mentioned to Brett after the ride how scary it was being up there on such a narrow trail and Brett just stared.  “If you think that was scary….’’ He didn’t have to say more, we figured we would be in for even more adventure.  It was a heck of a nice ride.

We ended up at Carmichael Ranger Station, similar to Webb Lake.  Just prior to pulling in, we went through a creek and then everyone was waiting by the ranger station for Charlie and John.  Turkey said it was a Kodak moment for them.  After waiting a little longer for them, Skinny yelled out “A Kodak moment?! They could have made a whole movie by now”!

It had quit raining, but threatened more, so we put up an A frame over the kitchen, and then it started raining again.  We put the rest of the tents up in the rain,  and had to cut more tent pegs & ridge poles.  Rain quit after dinner and we used a fire to dry out.

One thing about ranger stations is that they always have a first class outhouses to use, so we did not have to dig one. 

We hand grazed our stock since we had too much trouble with them the first two days.  Brett had his turned out into another boxed canyon, but when it was time for them to come in that evening, only 3 came.  Jesse & Brandon were out until about 11 and could not find the rest.  Brett & Jesse slept on the trail leading out of the canyon to make sure the horses did not get around them. 

7/27 – Day 4   Next morning, Brett & the wranglers  still could not find the horses.    The only time it looked like Brett was about to lose his temper the whole trip.  You could see the steam building up.  He sent people out in different directions, and Brandon & Jesse finally found them hiding in the trees, a spot Brett said he had  passed twice that morning.  Three days running now – problems with the stock.  A slow start to the morning, but again, it was made up for with a hell of a ride. 

Rode about  8.5 miles, climbing steadily up and to the top of the Continental Divide using a series of switchbacks and resting the horses regularly, usually with the horses standing on a steep uphill.  Got to the top of the divide at the south end of Scapegoat Mountain about lunch time.  We spent time taking pictures on top of the divide and sitting out on the cliff.  We waited there to watch the pack train come up the switchbacks and got some pics of them as well.

The rest of the afternoon was riding a ridge along the bottom of the face of Scapegoat.  Scapegoat is like a big U of a mountain, with the bottom of the U facing Southwest.  We came upon it at the bottom and followed the outside of one leg of the U to the Northwest.  Got a good view of some wildlife this day – Mountain goats, elk, Mule deer, and big horn sheep. 

Wild Bill had been wanting to play in snow the whole trip, and he got to on this part of the trail.  Tank laid right down in it.  We were about 7800 feet elevation (or altitution as Wild Bill called it), and there are still patches of snow.  They said that most of the snow had not melted until June.

Made camp under the face of Scapegoat.  This would be a two day camp.  By now, more people were sleeping under the stars, Wild Bill, Eric, Skinny, Jamie, and Jackleg.    The mule deer at this camp were plentiful and unbelievable.  You could almost throw a halter around them they got so close. 

7/26 – Day 5.  This was a layover day, but not a lazy one.  We were going to be riding to nearly the top of Scapegoat. A bunch of people got up at first light to get pics of how the sun changed the color of the mountain in the first few hours.   

We took off about 9 and rode up to the top of one leg of the U of Scapegoat mountain, then descended through a real old growth forest into a valley into the middle of the U.  Gorgeous ride so far with waterfalls on the opposite face of the mountain and the old pines and plenty of creeks.

We proceeded to the other face, or the inside leg of the U and started up.  Jamie & I kept trying to figure out where in the hell we would be going up – did not look like an easy passage anywhere – we were right.  Any trail that might have been there ended in the middle of the U and we started up in a switchback fashion up the face, until we got to a point where it was literally straight up.  At this point, we had to scale the trail vertically and then pull the horses up, with lots of rock being scattered and each horse an adventure to get pulled up; I was underneath Midnight at one point trying to figure out which way I was going to have to jump if he came tumbling down on top of me as he scampered. 

After that section we had some wide-eyed campers, and took a much needed  break.  The nerves did not have too much time to recover as we were on a very high ridge on a very thin game trail at this point – the kind where every step on the trail could send you tumbling down the side if the horse was not steady.  No one wanted to follow Sam too close because his hooves were bigger than the trail and he had the nasty habit of sending a lot or shale slides out from the trail.   I guess we found out who that outfitter was that the old couple was telling about in Bootleggers the other night.  This went on for about a mile or so until we crested and started riding in more of a meadow.

At this point we saw a group of 10 big horn sheep, maybe 500 yards away.  We looked at them through the glasses and  wondered if they would let us get close.  In fact, our trail went right by them and they were as curious of us as we were of them, and they let us get within about 50 yards.  We probably could have ridden right up to them.

We continued on to a meadow atop Scapegoat, where we took a lot of pictures, yelled down to the camp, and ate some lunch.  We were at 8700 feet and were not actually at the top.  There were several more good size “hills” to scale to get there.  Wild Bill, Jackleg, Brandon and Jesse and I set off for the peak.  The young ‘uns were like mountain goats and quickly pulled away.  Bill, Jackleg and I  stopped at 8920.  We could have made it, it was just a question of when.  It probably would have been 5 by the time we got there and got back.   I went down the face of the Scapegoat to go play in some snow there, then headed back down.  Everyone else was siestaing.  Jackleg caught hell from Skinny  when he decided to undress to take a siesta. 

Brandon & Jesse got to the top, carved their names in a board there, built a four foot rock monument and shook hands and buried the hatchet on some things that had been getting between them. 

On the way down, Brett had us walk the animals down the ridge line game trail and then down the vertical.  Touch and go again.  After getting down, some were debating whether we could have ridden the stock, at least on the ridge trail, and Brett allowed that he really did that to save the shoulders of the animals on steep hills like that.  At which point, Skinny said, “I didn’t come out here for no nature  hike, I got a perfectly good  mule for that”.

All told, the trail was about 10 miles, but lots of vertical.  While up on top we could see pretty clearly the two forest fires that were burning near there – Conger to the West and Ahorn to the North.  Winds  were gusting 30-40 mph all day, and the humidity was low and it was hot – prime weather to spread the fire.  We were 12 miles from Ahorn, at least where Ahorn had been when we started the trip.  It looked a lot closer now. 

When we made it back to camp, Conway and Dan, having the whole day to cook had whipped up a big roast and pies for dessert.  Unbelievable.  Throughout the camp, Dan kept complaining about how spoiled we all were to be on a trail ride with an outfitter cooking for us and that we would never be riding alone with him again, eating jerky helper and spam helper.  Most of us agreed.

Skinny would always look out for Conway, Brett & the wranglers, making sure they got to eat first, and that they always had a seat.  He would jump out of a seat and say – “Sit down there”; if they hesitated, he would add – “sit down!

That night, when the wind shifted right, you could get about a 5-10 degree rise  in air temperature and smell the smoke.  We kept a watch for an orange glow over the ridge.  Another full moon and beautiful star field.   Since we were pretty far north, the sun was not setting until almost 10pm, and then we had a full moon that was rising right away and setting about 2-3am. 

7/29 – Day 6  Broke camp and had our longest ride, about 18 miles to another spike camp area at Dearborn Creek.  Another beautiful ride, but  the fire kept chasing us, and Brett thought it may have hit the old growth valley that we had been in the day before.

Stopped at Welcome Creek Ranger station for lunch, then on to Dearborn.  John’s horse Poncho was coming up lame, so he started off ahead of us and walked most of the rest of the way to Dearborn. 

Camp at Dearborn Creek was a spike camp from another outfitter.  Not much there except a broken down corral. The camp had a nice big meadow and trees around.

Set up camp, had dinner, bathed in the creeks & rivers after a hot day it felt good.  Just before dusk a lot of smoke rolled in, making it pretty haze and you could certainly smell the fire.   We found out later that the fire had gone from 8000 to 30000 acres on the basis of the hot, dry air and high winds.  Sat around without a camp fire, and were telling stories.  Brett told quite a bit about his rodeo days, and then taught us a card game that they played all the time at the rodeos called National Final Rodeo. 

Rules:

Each hand is worth .25, and you play 10 rounds. 

Start with a card down and one up, like blackjack, but you are trying to get to 25 without going over.  If you go over, your bucked off.  Once everyone has held or is bucked off, you do it again, with one card down, one card up and go around again.  So if you were bucked off the first half of the hand, you are still out;  Go around again, and after everyone has held or been bucked off, then you add up your two rounds of cards, then double that and it is your score.  Perfect score would be 100.  If there is a tie, it pushes to the next round, so those bucked off have another chance.  Each round then is worth .25 from each person to the winner.  At the end of 10 rounds, the highest average also gets a $1 from everyone. 

Learned some good rodeo terms – you “shake your face” and have them “snatch the latch” and after 8 seconds you are either “throwin your hat” or “digging dirt out of your ears” or “wondering why there is a cauliflower growing out of my head”

This night a bunch of people were under the stars.   The meadow gave us a great view, but it was still hazy from the smoke.  About 3am it cleared up and the stars were amazing – they felt a lot closer than back in Missouri.

7/30- Day 7 Something apparently happened with Charlie in the “kitchen” at breakfast according to a few witnesses. 

Poncho was still lame, so John set off on foot about an hour ahead of everyone else.  We first rode up to the top of the divide,  and the sites were awesome.  You could see Red Mountain, which was near where we started way off in the distance, but it was one of the highest peaks and really red in the morning.  We could also see Scapegoat – unique shape, and tall, but by now it was 20 or more miles away. We kept going up, and checking to make sure John was staying on the right trail.  When riding on the divide, the mountain chains were endless.  You could easily see 100 miles off into the distance, and peak after peak interleaved. 

On the first big peak, there was a massive amount of deadwood, with nothing growing back.  There are certain types of trees, looked like aspen, where the seeds do not survive the fire, so here after many, many years, and on top of the peak was the deadwood, but nothing growing back.  It was eerie riding through this area – Jamie & I mentioned it reminded us of the Indian burial ground scene in Jeremiah Johnson.  We then descended some into another area of dead aspen.  Here the trees were all twisted – it  looked like a bonanza for someone wanting to stock a western themed house or store. So, Charlie of course started collecting.  She even got Jackleg to carry some of it.  He was also packing rocks, which the wranglers really appreciated.  After lunch, we came out of that meadow and started heading up again.  At one point there was a Y,  with one leg going way down into a valley and the other trail going nearly straight up.  Had to check for John, but it looked this time like he took the wrong trail.

After searching with the glasses and firing off a shot or two, we saw John down in the valley, and got him to turn around.  Brett sent Jamie to head down and work with John while we continued on up.

We started to climb switchbacks up and then we were riding on the very top of the ridgeline for an hour or so until we came to a really wide high mountain meadow that continued up the next slope.  We climbed the next slope  and at the peak of that sat and waited.  We could look at our backtrail for about 3 miles on top of the ridges.   It was an unbelievable site – you could see the wheat fields of Great Falls 50 miles away, and mountain chains forever.  At one point we waited & waited for the pack train and for Jamie & John to come over the top.  They finally did and it was a hell of a site.  We could not ride back at this point  to let John have a horse because the trail was not wide enough to pass the pack train.   Brett took a horse back to John and they all joined us shortly.  At this point, Brett said he had a shortcut to the camp and would walk it.  We set off a little ways and then he disappeared down the side of a canyon, while we rode all the way around and to the mouth of the canyon and then some switchbacks down into the canyon – he was at camp easily by the time we got there. 

We only rode about 10 miles, but it was some of the prettiest we had ridden. 

This camp was at Valley of the Moon named for what looked like a meteor hole.  Camp was deep in a canyon, with quite a lot of bear sign around.  In fact, the boys had left their fishing gear in the woods from the last time they were there and when they went to fetch it, found that the package had been torn up by a bear.   We ran the horses out into a canyon and hand grazed our stock.   Another great dinner and that evening started drinking up the last of the liquor, but Brett wanted to be sure and asked everyone to bring out their holdouts.  We had a hell of a good time, but Brett had another motive.  He was leaving in the morning to get back for the County Fair that his daughter’s had entered a couple of steers.  Eric was going to go with him to check trailheads and put up some signs for Margaret.  And John and Charlie decided to leave early as well to attend to Poncho. So, Brett wanted a dry camp after he left.

By now everyone was sleeping under the stars, and we had one area set up with all of the bedrolls that we called the trailer park.   Another beautiful night. 

7/31 Day 8  -  Day trip to Bighorn Lake.  This was just back out of the canyon and back over the top.  It was a gorgeous high mountain lake.  The whole area was like a semester in geology.  The mountains had pushed up at about  a 60 degree angle.  The erosion had been eating away and you could see layers of erosion from old – where it had formed dirt and could support trees and other vegetation, to newer and newer where fewer & fewer things grew.  One area had eroded down to make a natural dam, so that from then on, all of the snow melt and other water sources were captured in the lake.  The lake was clear & cold – as clear a lake as I have ever seen.  You could easily see 15 feet down and could watch the fish.

Everyone sort of wandered off to do whatever.  Dan fished while Jackleg caught bait for him.  The wranglers cooked some lunch then went off fishing.  Jamie & Skinny did some walking, and Turkey walked all the way around the lake.  I sort of fished, sort of snoozed in the sunshine.  I then went swimming and everyone took a turn at swimming or at least taking a bath (except Turkey who was snoozing with her head turned safely away – except I think she caught a site of Skinny with just his drawers on – that scared her straight. 

We went back and had an early dinner, and could you believe that with a dry camp, everyone went to bed early??

8/1 Day 9 – The morning started off cold and foggy.  It was very cool watching the fog roll into the valley and later riding through it – hard to tell if it was fog or if we were in a cloud.  We packed up for the last time, rode through the valley of the moon and then started down.  This trail was what the wrangler’s said was a packer’s nightmare.  We split the pack animals up to one or two per person, because the trail was very narrow and really had to work the packs around & through the trees.  We had to stop 3-4 times to retie / repackage.  Worked our way down for about 12 miles until we got back to the trailhead about 2 in the afternoon.

The plan was to take off right away and head to Big Timber about 4 hours away– we were going to drop our stock at Brett’s corrals, stay at a camp ground, take showers, then meet Brett & family at the county fair.  However, we ended up hanging around the trailhead with some ice cold beer compliments of Eric, John & Charlie and had a hell of a good time winding down. 

We then headed down to Big Timber and did not get in until about 8 or so.  By the time we got everything settled it was too late for the fair, but Brett was a big man in town and got the City Club (and casino, pool hall & bowling alley) to stay open for us.  He and Julie joined us and we had some outstanding steaks and a few cocktails.  Julie said she needed to be seen in public with Brett to stop the rumors that he left her since no one saw him all summer. 

Finally, Brett invited us back to his bunkhouse for some more story telling, lying and cocktails Some stayed there, some at the campground.  We all signed Brett’s barn wall of honor.

8/2 – Starting the long trip back home. 

All in all – one hell of a way to spend two weeks.   106 miles of horseback riding, camping under the stars, great scenery, great people, and got spoiled with all the good food in the process.  A good bit of heaven and a little bit of hell.  Just right.