Post by sixshot on Sept 7, 2012 11:28:39 GMT -5
In my younger years I had many head of horses & mules, some good & some bad, I also had a Paint stud at one time with several brood mares, it was a fun time in my life & I really miss those back country trips, with all the peace & quiet, the smell of sage, pine & horse poop, the sound of a stream rolling over the rocks as we slept, a owl hooting in the darkness & the spine tingling sound of a bull elk that knows you are camped right in his front yard.
Yesterday my old buddy Brent "Liver Eating" Johnson picked me up at 7:30 & we headed for the mountains with 2 of his dandy mules. I would be riding Bennie, over 15 hands & 1150 lbs, he was a traveler!
We unloaded at the mouth of the south fork & made a wonderful 16 mile loop through some country that I pretty much grew up in since the 60's. I hadn't been in there in years, no horses or mules to get me there & to old & heavy to do it on foot anymore. Many, many times I walked it, daylight or dark, I knew every inch of that country & me, Brent & our boys hauled many loads of elk meat out of that remote back country. My daughter killed her first bull there at the age of 14.
To me what has always made a successful trip has been the photo's, not whether we scored or not. With the photo's you always have those memories.
Bennie was quick, he tried me a couple of times & the first time I wasn't ready, he almost got me unseated, Brent was getting a chuckle out of it. After that we got along fine but he could spin like a top & because he's still a little young for a mule (6) he was shying a little bit from an old stump or a funny looking rock, mules come along slower than horses but when you get them finished out they are wonderful mounts. Brent is a great hand with them & he will be well mounted for many years.
The place was absolutely loaded with beaver ponds, I don't ever remember seeing so many. They were full of fish, I'm quite sure even a Utahan could have caught his limit!
The willows along the trail were full of grouse, many were "dusting" in the trail in front of us, there were Ruffs, Forest grouse & 4 big Blue grouse that Bennie decided he didn't like when they flew up in front of us, thats when he spun on me. We could have easily filled both saddle bags with young grouse with our 44 Bisleys but on this day had no desire to ruin a fun ride by cleaning chickens.
We stopped at my old camp site (Thompson Flats) where we had pitched the tents so many times. You could never camp there without hearing the bulls bugle their disapproval of you being there. Some times in our underwear we would sneak out of the tent to see a huge silhouette of a bull in the meadow.
At sun up you could see their tracks in the frosty grass, sometimes they had came very close to the tents just to let you know that they "knew" it was on!
A sheep herder had used the camp recently, you could still smell the burned out campfire, he had left a good sized frying pan hanging in a tree, he also left a bridle & some cooking grates. The smell of the Woolies was still in the air, this part of Idaho has sheep by the tens of thousands that graze the national forest ground for 4 months out of the year. Most of the herders are from Peru now, but still you see them from Mexico, Chile & many are Basque.
We continued on to Suicide Pass where years ago a Basque sheep herder who was dying of Syphilis crawled under a pine tree & set his 30/30 Winchester under his chin & called it a day. We had lunch there, passing the time recounting old memories & lying about who had killed the most elk & caught the most trout.
When we headed for home it had been a wonderful 7 hour ride back in time. My butt is a little tender & I"m sure Bennie is glad to have me off his back, there's alot of difference between 290 pounds of ugly compared to Brent's 140 lbs.
Me & Bennie, Brents' prize mule, Bennie's on the bottom!
Some of the many beaver ponds, they ran for miles.
Brent riding his Molly mule, same age as Bennie.
Giving Bennie a little breather.
Brent told me to kiss his a&%#*!
Dick
Yesterday my old buddy Brent "Liver Eating" Johnson picked me up at 7:30 & we headed for the mountains with 2 of his dandy mules. I would be riding Bennie, over 15 hands & 1150 lbs, he was a traveler!
We unloaded at the mouth of the south fork & made a wonderful 16 mile loop through some country that I pretty much grew up in since the 60's. I hadn't been in there in years, no horses or mules to get me there & to old & heavy to do it on foot anymore. Many, many times I walked it, daylight or dark, I knew every inch of that country & me, Brent & our boys hauled many loads of elk meat out of that remote back country. My daughter killed her first bull there at the age of 14.
To me what has always made a successful trip has been the photo's, not whether we scored or not. With the photo's you always have those memories.
Bennie was quick, he tried me a couple of times & the first time I wasn't ready, he almost got me unseated, Brent was getting a chuckle out of it. After that we got along fine but he could spin like a top & because he's still a little young for a mule (6) he was shying a little bit from an old stump or a funny looking rock, mules come along slower than horses but when you get them finished out they are wonderful mounts. Brent is a great hand with them & he will be well mounted for many years.
The place was absolutely loaded with beaver ponds, I don't ever remember seeing so many. They were full of fish, I'm quite sure even a Utahan could have caught his limit!
The willows along the trail were full of grouse, many were "dusting" in the trail in front of us, there were Ruffs, Forest grouse & 4 big Blue grouse that Bennie decided he didn't like when they flew up in front of us, thats when he spun on me. We could have easily filled both saddle bags with young grouse with our 44 Bisleys but on this day had no desire to ruin a fun ride by cleaning chickens.
We stopped at my old camp site (Thompson Flats) where we had pitched the tents so many times. You could never camp there without hearing the bulls bugle their disapproval of you being there. Some times in our underwear we would sneak out of the tent to see a huge silhouette of a bull in the meadow.
At sun up you could see their tracks in the frosty grass, sometimes they had came very close to the tents just to let you know that they "knew" it was on!
A sheep herder had used the camp recently, you could still smell the burned out campfire, he had left a good sized frying pan hanging in a tree, he also left a bridle & some cooking grates. The smell of the Woolies was still in the air, this part of Idaho has sheep by the tens of thousands that graze the national forest ground for 4 months out of the year. Most of the herders are from Peru now, but still you see them from Mexico, Chile & many are Basque.
We continued on to Suicide Pass where years ago a Basque sheep herder who was dying of Syphilis crawled under a pine tree & set his 30/30 Winchester under his chin & called it a day. We had lunch there, passing the time recounting old memories & lying about who had killed the most elk & caught the most trout.
When we headed for home it had been a wonderful 7 hour ride back in time. My butt is a little tender & I"m sure Bennie is glad to have me off his back, there's alot of difference between 290 pounds of ugly compared to Brent's 140 lbs.
Me & Bennie, Brents' prize mule, Bennie's on the bottom!
Some of the many beaver ponds, they ran for miles.
Brent riding his Molly mule, same age as Bennie.
Giving Bennie a little breather.
Brent told me to kiss his a&%#*!
Dick
