Pack Trip: Day 1

Double C and I had the horses and mules packed into the trailer by 6am, and we were off to the Government Meadows horse camp, where we would be leaving the truck and trailer. The weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, with perfect temperature.

This was my first experience with pack animals, let alone mules. I could only imagine what adventure might lay ahead with the addition of these steeds.

As the saying goes "a picture speaks a thousand words, so I will let the photos tell the tale as we ventured into the Norse Peak Wilderness on the Pacific Crest Trail:

As you can see, I actually took this photo a week after we started, but I felt it to be a good starter for the story.

Smokey saddled up and ready go. He looks thrilled, doesn't he?

Dempsey (left) and Potter, the mules.

Double C and his saddle horse, Sunny D. Jessica will be glad to know that Sunny is an Off The Track Thoroughbred.

On the trail. The view ahead.

The view behind.

Watering the animals. I believe that this creek eventually becomes the South Fork of the Little Naches River.

Note how the branches on the trees do not grow very long. This is how they survive at this altitude (5000ft) against the heavy winter snowfall.

Mt. Rainier

Meadows like this spring up out of the timber frequently. While we didn't see any elk, there was an abundance of sign.

Smokey is none too thrilled about posing for a picture. So much grass to be eaten.

Airplane Meadows, at the top of the Arch Rock Trail (#1187)

The reason Airplane Meadows is so named. I can find surprisingly little info on this crash site, beyond the fact that it occurred in 1939. All that remains is the radial engine, and some pieces of the frame.

I never tire of looking at Mt. Rainier, so you will have to bear with me.

End of the first day. The boys hobbled out and dining on the lush green grass.

The day was uneventful. We only encountered two groups of hikers. One was a couple out for a day hike, the other group about 8 backpackers headed for the cabin at Government Meadows. We exchanged pleasantries and trail info with both groups, and headed on our merry ways.

It didn't begin getting dark until after 9pm, at which point we put the horses and mules on the highline, and turned in ourselves.

We're Back

No time to write at the moment, so I'll just leave a little teaser for now.

The Great Adventure is About to Begin.

I'll be setting out on my nine day adventure at 0500 tomorrow.

The good news is that Smokey's abscess healed quicker than expected, and he didn't lose any of his conditioning. So he's back up to first string. Which is a big relief. While Bailey is a good horse, she is a bit of an unknown quantity with respect to a trip of this nature. I've never had her out on an overnight trip, let alone nine days.

Smokey, on the other hand, has spent his fair share of nights on the highline, cowbell chiming with his movements. He isn't phased by deer, elk, or bears. (Although he is deathly afraid of blue tarps).

I'm bringing along a small notebook so that I may record any adventures, and I promise to return with as many photos of the Norse Peak Wilderness as the memory card will hold.

Plans, Setbacks, and Backup Plans

I will soon be headed off to spend nine days traveling via saddle in the Norse Peak Wilderness. The first four and half days a friend and I will spend camping and fishing. For the latter half of the trip, we will head over to camp at Corral Pass for the purpose of participating in the annual work party with Pierce County Chapter of the Backcountry Horsemen of Washington. When not enjoying good food and good company, we will ride daily to Echo Lake and the Arch Rock Trail for bridge and trail repair.

To say that I have been looking forward to this would be a bit of an understatement.

Just as you and I could not get off the couch and then go hiking in the hills for days on end without some prior conditioning, neither can a horse be pulled out of the pasture for the same. Therefore, Smokey has been on a steady exercise program consisting of a great deal of trotting and loping to firm up muscle and restore aerobic capacity.

And then he pulls up lame two weeks ago. While much of the country is enjoying summer, the damp, cold, miserable weather has been hanging on her in the Pacific Northwest. This wet is the mortal enemy of Smokey's feet. He has an abscess in his left front hoof. While the hoof may heal prior to the start of the trip, the break from training means, quite simply, that he will not be ready to go by the scheduled start date.

While disappointing, all is not lost. I will be taking our ten year old mare Bailey. Until this year, she was DN3's show and all purpose horse. Bailey is burned out on the show ring, which is why we picked up Petey earlier this year.

Bailey is, to be honest, better suited for a long trip than Smokey is. We call her the "Energizer Bunny" because she rarely sweats or breathes hard no matter how hard she works. And, provided she isn't the lead horse, she enjoys the trail, as much as a horse enjoys anything beyond eating, sleeping, and pooping.

DN3 is helping me "learn" how to ride her. While riding Smokey involves legs and use of the bit, Bailey has different, more subtle cues, and all of them involve leg pressure and torso positions. So I'm having to learn not to use my hands. It isn't that she doesn't respond to pressure on the bit, it just isn't necessary. No point in complicating matters.

While she isn't a big flashy buckskin, she is still an excellent horse, and I'm still looking forward to the trip.

I Can't Think of a Title for this Post

I heard this song for the first time the other day. Now, I can't quite put my finger on the reason, but every time I hear this song, I can't help but think of Buck.

Clean Run!

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Work has kept me busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest, and with a stint of good weather I've been honing my riding skills. Coupled with a general lack of fodder, I've been a bit absent. My apologies.

This past weekend our zone of the Washington State Horsemen hosted a two day gaming event. Good fun, and met many new people from around the state.

DN2 assembled this video compilation of my Saturday rides, and set it to one of my favorite songs.



Not every run was textbook, but as you can see, I remained in the saddle. Smokey ran his heart out, and I could not be happier with his performance.

A Taste of Dirt

I’ve heard it said that the size of a wreck is directly proportional to the number of people watching. Smokey set out to prove that theory in front of well over a hundred people at Meridian Riding Club on Sunday, with me serving as the token crash test dummy. The event was Keyhole, which consists of a chalk outline on the ground in the shape of a keyhole. The object is to cross the start/finish line, enter the keyhole at the narrow end, turn around in the circle, and ride back to the start/finish line.

Horses do not like to step on anything that, to them, provides unsure footing. See this post for more background. Chalk is one such surface that Smokey finds suspect. We often sail, quite literally, across the start/finish line. We’ve run keyhole before, however, without incident, so I wasn’t concerned.

Getting the green light, we started off at close to a run. Halfway down the course, noting that we were off to the right, I applied gentle leg pressure to nudge Smokey to the left. Closing in on the target, all was well. Then Smokey spotted the chalk outline, and in the bat of an eyelash, he dropped his head to look at this new found danger, and jumped to the right.

I didn’t.

In the next instant I was lying in the dirt on my back. Good and fine, with one exception. My left foot was caught in the stirrup. Referring back to the paragraph regarding unsure footing, it should be noted that humans also represent said footing. In the effort to avoid stepping on me, Smokey kept moving away. Except that I kept following. So he kept moving.

The functional purpose behind cowboy boots, so I’ve been told, is to allow you foot to slide out in just such an event. Paint me skeptical. As I was touring the arena, trying to wiggle my foot free, the only thought in my head was “why isn’t this damn boot coming off?”

Being rather occupied at the time, I was completely unaware of the fact that, over in the other lane, the horse had been spooked by the show Smokey and I were putting on. He set to rearing and bucking, sending the other rider into the dirt as well. Luckily she was unharmed.

Fortunately, Smokey was only trotting, not running. After what seemed an eternity, my boot broke free of the stirrup. Spitting out dirt, I leaped to my feet, and started walking over to Smokey. I heard shouts of “are you all right?” “Well, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I thought. Then it occurred to me that things may have appeared different from a spectator’s point of view. I gave everyone the thumbs up.

Taking Smokey’s reins, I looked him in the eye and quietly asked “what was that all about?” His look seemed to say “I have no idea what you’re talking about”. Mounting back up, I was asked if I wanted a re-ride. Absolutely! We only trotted to the keyhole this time around, however. Once inside the key, we turned, and I kicked him into a run for the trip home.

We, of course, sailed over the finish line, giving everyone a good laugh.

Volcanic Beauty

A remarkable set of photos from the eruption of Eyjafjallajokull in Iceland.

Game On!

Sunday was the first Western Gaming Playday at Meridian Riding Club for this year. Smokey and I were, of course, in attendance.

While we held our own last year, with 15 people in the Super Senior Division at this event, and with placings only up to Fifth, I thought for certain we were going to get skunked. While this event is primarily about having fun, many of these folks ride like they mean it.

Well, I hate to brag, but...we brought home ribbons in five of the six events. Looking over my times from last year, I shaved as much as 3 seconds off some of my times. A friend commented to me "you've really stepped it up a notch." Having not practiced one iota all winter, I can't really claim to have worked on improving. So what changed? I had to think about that.

My conclusion is that the improvement is two-fold.

First, and foremost, I have implicit trust in Smokey. I know that if I give him the right signals, he will respond as I want. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body, and while he spooks rather easily, and in a rather large manner, he won't buck, rear, bolt or do anything dangerous. But make no mistake, Smokey Joe is fast, and needs very little encouragement from his rider to take off like a rocket. I know that horses don't think or feel the way humans do, but I dare say he enjoys a good run.

Second, I have gained the confidence in my riding skills to safely sit perched atop a running horse. I think I have reached the point of being a good rider. Not a great one, nor do I think I will ever achieve that level, but good, yes.

It was a good day, and the weather was beautiful. I have the ribbons and sunburn to prove it.

Government at Work Part II

4H is not dead. Hanging on by a thread, perhaps, but not gone.

There was enough of an outcry that the County Council trimmed the cut down to $100,000, from the original proposal of $200,000. Personally, I think they could have found somewhere else to save the $100K. Starting with their own bloated salaries.

This still represents a significant slash to the budget for the Extension Office. But it will keep the afloat for the time being, and allow them to search out other sources of funding.

DN3 had the opportunity to attend the subject Council meeting. Her assessment: the Council members were "rude". Of the seven, only one of them paid attention to each and every public comment. This would be Joyce MacDonald, one of the few members who was on our side, and one of only two to reply to my email. DN3 said that the other members spent of the time talking, or looking a their I phones. Typical government, IMHO. We little people don't know what's best for us, that's why we have them.

Horse in Need

A shameless plea for a shameless plea.

I've mentioned Katie's Blog about Argus before. She has found herself fostering a 14 year old Thoroughbred with a fractured splint bone. Repairing the fracture requires $2000 for and a relatively simple surgery. If the money for the surgery can be raised, Katie will provide the board and care at her farm for his rehabilitation.

Small Town Traffic Jam

Sent by a friend. Click to get the full effect. There are two other vehicles on the road.

I Didn't Care for the New Layout That I Tried

Sometimes change for the sake of change is not a good thing...

Government At Work

As with most government agencies, the Pierce County Council is struggling with budget shortfalls. This one is to the tune of $5.5 million. They will be voting on the new budget tomorrow. Instead of searching for places to cut waste and excess, Councilman Roger Bush, has proposed cutting, among other things, $200,000 from the budget of Washington State University(WSU) Pierce County Extension (PCE) Office.

WSU is the university that governs the 4H program in Washington state. In order for any of the 39 counties to have a 4H program, they must have an extension office. The funds currently available to the PCE office amount to $275,000. It doesn't take a financial whiz to realize that lopping $200,000 from that budget will result in the closure of the PCE office. This closure would be effective immediately, and with it the disbandment of the Pierce County 4H program.

To target the budget and support of programs which provide meaningful activities for our youth is both irresponsible and short sighted.

There are hundreds, if not thousands of adults who volunteer numerous hours toward the conduct of these programs. Many of the youth who are approaching voting age have been members of 4H for much of their childhood. As a program dedicated towards teaching life skills, 4H, for some youth, represents the difference between energy that is channeled towards the good, as opposed to mischief. Does this Council want to be remembered as the group who brought about the demise of the program?

Of course all of this was presented with typical government "transparency". The notifications of this proposal were sent out late last Friday night. With a vote set for tomorrow. When doing something unpopular no point in letting the people have a say in the matter.

I'm feeling a bit disenchanted these days.

Happy Birthday, Smokey!

By some unwritten convention, all horses age on Jan. 1st of each year. As I understand it this is so the high falutin' folks in the many facets of the show world can move their prized show ponies into the next age bracket.

Whatever...

For backyard hacks like me, that sounds like a bunch of hooey.

21 years ago today, an American Quarter Horse mare named Alamoannie birthed a foal sired by the Thoroughbred named Master Jorge. This little bundle of joy would come to be known as Master Alamo Joe, barn name Smokey. He also goes by the aliases of Mojo, Meathead, Mr. Man, What The Hell Are You Doing?, and Whoa Dammit.

Seeing as a fella only turns 21 once in a lifetime, Smokey and I held a proper celebration.

He is Risen!

Happy Easter, everyone!

There's Something in a Name

Often, the name of a place provides key information about said locale.

Case in point. When a friend and I were planning a pack trip a few years back, the names of two places in the region we would be traveling caught our eye. Dead Horse Creek and Big Mosquito Valley. For reasons which should be obvious to the casual observer, we immediately eliminated both of them from the list of possible destinations or paths of travel.

Now, I'm not always the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I'm fairly certain that I would never build or purchase a home at a place named Washaway Beach.

It would appear, however, that some people do not think the way I do.

Horses Can Fly!

If you don't believe me, then go here, and see for yourself.

Interesting that the only video I could find was on the Telegraph. Thanks to my Brit friends!

Work Party!

On Saturday, members from three local chapters of the Backcountry Horsemen of Washington met at the Mt. Baldy trailhead for a work party to clear trails. DN1 commented that the words "work" and "party" should never be used in the same sentence. That's what we called them in the Navy, so it doesn't seem all that strange to me.

Challenge #1 was getting Smokey in the trailer. If there aren't other horses already in the trailer he tends to be a bit, shall we say "leery", about getting in the trailer (read: hell no, he won't go). Combine that with the fact that he hasn't traveled since September, and, well, I'm sure you get the picture. So there were were, me in the trailer, and the horse five feet behind, feet firmly planted, head and neck and stretched flat as I'm pulling on the lead rope. Irresistible force, immovable object, and all that.

Salvation arrived in the form of DN2, who happened by on her rounds for the morning horse feedings. After a couple gentle whacks on the rump, he capitulated and climbed into the trailer. Door shut, and off we go.

Upon arrival, horses were saddled, tools loaded on the pack mules, work briefing and off to work. I was assigned with the crew that was headed out to clear the Jack Daniels trail. With a name like that it must be a good trail. In our group was was a retired U.S. Army Colonel who had been a Ranger. Bill was riding one of his mules and ponying two others that were loaded with tools. Every so often, the mules would manage to get themselves into some predicament or the other. One one occasion, a brush cutter snagged on a tree limb, and was yanked out of the box of the #3 mule. This spooked the #2 mule, who took off running, pushing the saddle mule ahead. Off they disappeared into the woods, while mule #3, whose lead had broken free, stopped to munch on ferns. After few minutes, Bill and the other two mules re-appeared. Things were fixed, and off we went.

Bill is absolutely unflappable. Each time a problem would occur, he just let the commotion die down before doing or saying anything. Then he would sort things out, and off he would go. I've heard that mules have to treated calmly, as they never forget, and you only get one chance to make a mistake.

The weather was co-operative, if you call sporadic rain and hail, with occasional sun breaks co-operative. We managed to cover quite a bit of ground, clearing a great deal of debris and overgrowth. Poor old Smokey was pretty whooped up on by the time we headed back to the trail head. He was walking pretty slow, and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to carry him back.

A campfire, chicken and dumplings, and hot coffee were ready at the parking area when we got back. But not until horses were untacked, watered, and fed. The rule is that horses are tended to first, people second. The animals work hard for us, and they have earned that.

Strangely enough, I didn't have any trouble getting Smokey into the trailer for the trip home. I'm sure he slept good.

I Folded Like a Cheap Stroller

I am now on Facebook...

Edit: Mauser Girl pointed out that I omitted a key piece of information.

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000868751798