21st Again

Up we ride, further into gods country, the clearing below are devoid of wildlife a sign of the impact the wolves have had on the local ecology. Here and there are tracks of a couple different grizzlies and some elk. The wind whispers in the pines as we wend our way up the various trails, making our way to our camp, nestled in a small bowl just below the ridge. Our camp is probably the only flat spot out of the wind for several miles. Directly to our south are two basins rimmed by rugged cliffs, the larger of the two wends off to the southeast dropping off into Tom Miner Basin. So far the terrain has been void of all wildlife save 2 mountain goats who casually made their way around a cliff face avoiding us.
      As we drop down into our little nook on the mountain, I sigh with relief, we've been in the saddle more or less 6 hours and I'm ready for a break, even if that means unloading the mules and getting the canvas set up. The next couple hours are spent unloading mules, taking the manny tarps off our loads and setting up the tent. All is done, Lee and I locate the camp stove, get a fire going and set a couple cans of clam chowder on top to heat. Sitting back in our camp chairs he goes over the lay out of the surrounding terrain and where the sheep have been located in past years. We carry on our conversation, that is to say Lee talks and I listen avidly, after 40 years in these mountains he has a lot to pass on to me and I am doing  a great imitation of a sponge, soaking up his every word. After a brief respite we move to the openings to our north and set up the electric fence, hobbling all but two of the mules we put them in our little pen, leaving the two unhobbled animals out to serve as sentries in the night and reduce how much grass is eaten in our little pen. Wandering back to camp we sit down again and resume our palaver, Lee is a wealth of knowledge and he shares stories and past experiences. As the sun sets we crawl into our bags and curl up for the night, content that the roving mules will alert us to the presence of any bears or even drive them off. As I close my eyes the sound of cow bells and horses moving around in the distance sends me off to sleep.

21st Continued

      As the sun makes its way across the heavens we ride on into the wilderness. Rugged mountain trails lead us up and out of the timber to the rocky crest of the ridge. Periodically we stop to rest the animals, gazing around in wonder my  soul takes in the splendor, reveling in the freedom drinking in the peace and storing it for the long cold months ahead. Removing my camera once again from my pocket I continue to snap pictures attempting to capture a mere glimmer of the beauty before me. Putting my camera away I settle back into the saddle as Badger, my horse; steps out, following the pack train as they make their winding way up the face of ridge.

August 21 2010

After 2 days of intensive packing and weight out every load we are finally ready to embark upon the first adventure of the season. All the pack animals have been groomed and saddled, our horses stand calmly at the hitching rail watching us bustle around loading packs into the truck and making last minute adjustments to loads, the morning sun just cresting over the horizon. I smile to myself, imagining the miles ahead of us, clean mountain air and cold water flowing in the streams. Finally the horses and mules are loaded in the trailer, Lee grabs his last cup of coffee and we're ready to make our 2 hour drive to the trail head. It's 8:00 as we pull away from the ranch, the sun is shining and Lee has a smile on his even after 41 years of living his dream the excitement is still there, it pervades the air and our conversation as we wend our way down Hwy 191 toward our destination.
     Finally, the truck is parked, the mules and horses are tied up to the hitch rail at the trailhead, and the rigorous task of loading the packs and tying down our loads begins. A last minute check, tighten the cinches and place the packs on the mules. Tent, table,chairs, sleeping mats, food for the 2 days we'll be out setting up the first camp of the season. The wind whispers in the pines as sunlight baths the parking lot, small cow birds hop under our feet as we bustle around securing our loads. Finally the loads are on and we're in the saddle, fresh mountain air tinged with the smell horse and leather.
      Lee heads out, leading the pack string while I bring up the rear watching the loads and reveling in the freedom of the outdoors. We wind our way up the trail, the mules calmly following in single file for this is nothing new to them. Step by step we wend our through clearing and stands of lodgepole pine, crossing high mountain streams, the water flowing over rocks chuckling quietly to itself as we pass. Slowly we make our way up the trail, enjoying the scenes unfolding before us, a deer quietly grazing in the meadow across from us, picking its head up and watching us in mild astonishment as we quietly pass by. Eventually we leave the quiet of the forest and climb to the top of the ridge, I gaze around in wonder as the country opens up around us, we are on top of the world. Far below us stands of timber and grassy meadows open up for miles, the country is so big so vast. We take a short break at the top of the ridge, tether our horses and pull our lunches from our saddle bags, quite the idyllic spot Lee has chosen for lunch. He smiles as we sit down quietly conversing as we eat, discussing the hunt and the expectations of the coming season.
      Lunch is done, back in the saddle Lee informs me we still have 4 hours of riding minimum, smiling he turns away and leads the string up the trail. We are on the ridge-top now, snaking our way up one mountain and carefully negotiating our way down the other side. Valleys flow out below us on the left as sheer cliffs border our right hand side, the view is breathtaking green on green dotted with the occasional blue of high mountain lakes and streams. Up ahead a mountain goat leaps from shelf to shelf attempting to evade us as we progress further up the trail, the horses keep a careful eye on the treacherous footing, carefully selecting each place they step navigating their way over rocks and through tree stands. Looking around I lose myself in the beauty of my surroundings, I've lived here my whole life but it never gets dull. Each rise opens to new splendors of nature, unique rock formations, high mountain valleys, stands of timber that roll across the foothills below us. The sky is clear and blue, we are definitely wandering through gods country, inundated by the gifts bestowed upon us. Now on our right is the border to Yellowstone National Park unspoiled tracts of wilderness, largely unseen from below and difficult to put into words, we ride on to the south further into the void, further from civilization and the uncouth masses.
      This is my dream, exploring new country, horseback riding, seeking the peaceful places. All is well.....

Check back later for more.........

Moving On

      I have hinted around the edges of my childhood, given vague glimpse into a past that has moved on. But what of today? So much has changed, Bozeman has grown into a place I hardly recognize, people have moved on. The one thing that hasn't though are the spectacular views, and the call of the wild. Beckoning to me on a daily basis, drawing me away from the daily grind of life, assuaging the horrors that we witness on a daily basis; murder, rape, war. I don't understand half of what I see on the evening news anymore, where are the miracles and heroes? Why are we buried in the mud and muck of human misery? Instead of telling us how many troops have died in the senseless war in Iraq and Afganistan, tell us tales of heroism, how some poor boy saved a fellow soldier and was awarded the Medal of Honor. Are we so enamored with misery and deceit that we follow nothing else, what has become of the land of the free and the home of the brave?? These are sad times we live in, thankfully I can still take solace in the arms of my mistress and let her wash away the sorrows of the world. I just wish I could share that peace with others, maybe by writing the things I love best I can help others find a little peace. May your soul be as peaceful as the waters of the lake above.

The Formative Years

      Having the freedom to go and do as I pleased made life easier for an only child, my mom worked the grave yard shift and we rarely saw eachother. My grandparents were the surrogates who raised me in her absences, we were just trying to survive in a small rural town. But for all of that life was rich and the lessons I learned were rarely harsh or demanding.
      As a child I had the good fortune to be able to travel and every summer we did, visiting family, attending family reunions at my great uncle's farm in Oregon, by the time I was 12 I had traveled most of the western United States. We visited Yellowstone National Park on a regular basis and spent many weekends on the lake fishing and camping. Monetarily we were not rich but then money wasn't everything, we had eachother and that was enough. The morals and family values passed down to me have stuck with me over the years, guiding and shaping my life. Blood was the strongest bond, holding us all together no matter where life's winds blew us, I had 2 older cousins raised by the folks who were more like brothers, they helped raise me and toted me around with them where ever they went. Hiking, fishing behind the old Qwik Way, riding our bikes just as far and fast as we could pedal them. It was a good way to grow up, full of adventure and freedom, we roamed far and wide and rarely looked back.

Growing Up

      They call this god's country, I couldn't agree more. I'm not a very religious man but sitting on top of some remote mountain in the Montana wilderness sure challenges a man's beliefs. Could such beauty be truly random? That is a question for each individual to answer for themselves but if there is a God then I'd have to say that I'm a lot closer to him than the individual who goes to church every Sunday.
       Views aside, landscapes such as the photo above have dominated my view my whole life. Freedom has never been more than 15 minutes away, beckoning the way a lover would. Inducing me to flee the chains of society and live a clean open life in nature.
       I was born in West Germany, the son of two American patriots serving their country, unfortunately I do not remember the land of my birth but the mountains of Montana more than compensate me for that lack. My folks separated when I was 2 and my mother raised me with the assistance of my grandparents, molding me into the individual I have become over the passage of the years. My earliest memories are fuzzy and vague but I do remember the smell of a camp fire and grandpa's cab over camper. The mist on Hyalite Lake as the sun rises on a brisk morning, slowly burning off revealing the mirror like surface occasionally broken by the rising of a brook trout. Eating pancakes and eggs while Gramps gets the boat loaded, fishing poles, bait, life jackets, fill up the gas tank. A life of freedom and a total lack of responsibility at that age. Just bits and pieces flash through my dreams, so many years and changes yet those memories will stick with me my entire life.
      Growing up in a small rustic town shaped my views and insulated me from the tumultuous life bustling outside our cozy little world. As I grew and explored I found myself enamored with the outdoors and nature, roaming the hills, watching deer and elk feed in the clearing and the occasional black bear foraging in bushes, red tail hawks wheeling through the air, shrieking their defiance to any who would take the time to listen. Song birds by the score racing through the air, singing their melodies and trying to outdo eachother.
      Bozeman was a small bucolic town located in the Gallatin Valley surrounded by majestic mountains, a safe quiet place for a young boy to grow up. We knew our neighbors and didn't have to worry about crime, there was an innocent restlessness in the air, a sense that all was well and mischief wasn't malignant but done in fun.