Now we were all experienced cowboys that had two or even an unfathomable three training sessions (though some of the training sessions were cut short do to some minor medical issues. [Three concussions, a broken foot, two bruised ribs, and a torn esophagus] Fortunately, they were all things we could walk off).
We met at Ray’s house to get an early start (2:30am) due to the nine hour drive and five hour horseback trek into the mountainous wilderness. We packed up the three crew cab Fords with our equipment while the rattle of the diesel engines got our blood pumping in anticipation. As we loaded up the trucks, Ray (a 5’2, 85 pound, 76 year old) was busy loading 18 livid horses into trailers under the brilliant light of a few twinkling stars.
We couldn’t see anything! We heard the deep raging percussion of the horses as they kicked the walls of the trailer while belting out piercing neighs as if they were headed to slaughter. Then we heard Ray yell out from deep inside the trailer,
“Ahh… shut yer yapper. You think yur gonna kick me do yi? I’ll kick yi right back.”
After Ray got all the horses loaded up, we hit the road. The excitement quickly wore off and all the boys passed out in exhaustion as the convoy of trucks headed into the darkness.
Once we arrived at our destination, we started unloading the lethargic and unusually docile horses. As we were finishing up saddling the horses and loading up the pack mules, I looked over and saw Hoss (one of the two bonafide juvenile delinquents in our group) poking a sharp stick in the crotch of the most wild horse (Buckshot) of the bunch (which is saying a lot, as most of the horses were wild).
“What’s wrong with this stupid horse?!? It won’t let me get near it!”
Dave then spent the next 20 minutes trying to calm his horse. Once he had calmed Buckshot to a mild buck, he climbed on and we all headed off.
On the trail, the group of boys quickly split into two packs. The lead pack was headed up by Billy. He was riding a wild Mustang that was built for speed. Since Billy had no clue how to slow his wild horse down he sprinted off into the forest. I took off in hot pursuit. About 15 minutes down the trail, I saw Billy approaching a fallen tree. Most of the branches had been broken off at about five or six feet. However, there was one broken branch that hung like a dagger right in the middle of the path. As his horse sprinted toward the tree he tried to lay down as flat as he could against the horse’s back. I felt myself cringe as I watched the sharp edge of the branch scrape against the nape of his neck grabbing his shirt by the collar and ripping the entire back of it clean off. He was left with two sleeves connected to a bib. His shirt had turned into a hospital gown in one fell swoop. I quickly caught up to him to assess the damage.
“Are you ok… hahaha… I thought you were going to get decapitated…hahaha…”
As Billy turned around to let me see the damage, I noticed the branch scrapped him from his neck to his belt line.
“I like the new zipper you’re sporting down the middle of your back…hahaha…” I cracked.
We hopped back on our horses and tore off down the trail again.
About a mile down the trail, we came to an enormous flat sloping rock in the middle of the trail. There was no way around it. There was a sheer cliff on the left side and a wall of dirt on the right. It was about ten feet long, flat and looked like polished marble. It was at a steep angle sloping down the cliff.
Billy- “I bet I can beat you to the top of the hill.”
“That rock face looks pretty precarious. I think we should wait in case we slide off the cliff. Then at least they will know that we met our demise.” I said.
“Boooo, you’re no fun Ard!”he jeered.
We waited for the adults to see what they wanted up to do. As soon as Ray saw it he said,
“That ain’t nuttin. Yul be fine. Jist go.”
So, Billy backed up to get a running start.
Clop, clop, clop, clop…
His horse cruised over the rock easily. We all got a good running start and crossed over with no problems. That was until it was one of the pack mules turn.
This particular pack mule was so heavy laden with our food and gear he couldn't build up any speed.
Clop, clop,..screeeeeetch…
I looked back and saw Benny the mule standing frozen in the middle of the rock sliding sideways. He had this look on his face as if to say, “I hate you guys!!! I hope you all die a terrible death!”
Then Benny dropped out of sight.
Thump..bang…crash…
We walked over to the edge of the cliff expecting to see Benny at the bottom of the hill. To our amazement, we looked over and saw Benny standing on a ledge… packless. As we looked further down the hill, we saw a third of our food all over on the forest floor as if it had been dropped out of an airplane.
One kid yell’s out, “My mom’s new camera!!! She’s going to kill me. Let me go check if it’s okay.”
“It’s gone. You are not going down there to get it.” one of the leaders snapped.
We got Benny back up and across the obstacle. The only problem was that the next one to cross the rock was riding an old donkey (Jenny).
Ray called out, “It’s yer turn Josh, go!”
Josh had the least experience out of all of us. That was why he was riding the slowest animal. This had been to his advantage until now. Josh got Jenny up to a lazy trot when he hit the rock. Jenny quickly lost her footing and began to slide. All of our hearts dropped into our stomachs. Right as Jenny was about to go airborne with Josh as her passenger to oblivion, Jenny took one last desperate leap and made in to the edge of the solid ground.
“Great, let’s get goin.” Ray said casually.
We soon arrived at our camping spot. It was beautiful. We camped right on the edge of crystal clear lake surrounded by trees and snow covered mountains in the background.
“Time for some adventure!” someone exclaimed.
