Part 2
At one time the date seemed so very far off, but before we knew it, all of the jawing, planning, and training was over and the day was upon us. Diane, Bill, and Andrew were driving from Vancouver to Pinedale Wyoming. Kevin was flying from Timmins to Chicago where he met Renee and me. We then flew to Salt Lake City, rented a car and drove the remaining distance to Pinedale. All of this worked reasonably well with the small hitch of Kevin’s gear not making it to Utah on our flight.
Salt Lake City
We were as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs as we waited the three hours for the next flight from Chi-town. If the gear wasn’t on that flight, our trip was going to quickly take an unpleasant turn. There was nothing to do for it but wait. We went and grabbed some lunch to kill the time. I released a big sigh of relief when I saw Kevin come back out of the airport with his pack in tow.
We made a quick stop at REI to pick up some Jet Boil canisters that Renee had ordered for us, and then we aimed the truck east and put the hammer down. We were running late now, and had some big time to make up. The kilo-metres passed by fast as we didn’t spare the ponies one little bit. By using some technology and old school smarts we were able to locate the other half of our team in Pinedale, and soon after our happy reunion, we were quaffing back pints of ale at the Wind River Brewing Company. The B.C. contingent had arranged for some rooms for us at the Teton Court Motel. While a bit run-down it was more appealing than trying to find a campsite in the dark. (they had arranged for that as well however as a backup option)
The long ride in…
The following morning dawned clear and cold, and without much ado, or coffee we made our way up past Fremont Lake and were at the trailhead a few minutes ahead of the scheduled 0700 meeting time with the outfitters. There were quite a few cars in the parking lot, but no horse trailers. Time passed and soon it was 0730 and no sign of any horses, other than a small NOLS group going in for a resupply. There was no cell coverage up there, and I was starting to get concerned. Eventually Renee and I drove down the mountain until we could get reception and I called the outfitters. I was told that they will be there, but as 0800 rolled around I was still worried. After all it was me who had arranged all of this. Just then we heard a truck; and it was them… finally.
Packing Up
It turned out to be quite the operation. There were actually two trucks and trailers. We ended up with three riding horses, three pack mules, and the two wranglers that were going to accompany us, riding mules also. The guy that they are sending in with us was quite the character… Idaho Dwight… or ol’ Wrong Way… (as he becomes to be known in these here parts) he was straight outta the moving pictures. Big hat, chaps, a 12” moustache, and a pearl handled six-shooter. His young daughter Sierra was coming along as well as two dogs.
There lived a maiden Darcy Farrow was her name
The daughter of old Dundee and fair one was she
The sweetest flower that bloomed over the range
Her voice was as sweet as the sugar candy
Her touch was as soft as a bed of eider down
Her eyes shone bright like the pretty lights
That shine in the night out of Yerrington town
She was courted by a young Vandamere
And quite handsome was he as I’m to hear
He gave her silver rings and lacy things
And she promised to wed before the snows came that year
But her pony he did stumble and he did fall
Her dying cut the hearts from us one and all
Young Vandy in his pain put a bullet in his brain
And we buried them together as the snow began to fall
They sing of Darcy Farrow where the Truckee runs through
They sing of her beauty in Virginia City too
At dusky sundown to her name they drink a round
And to young Vandy whose love was true
– Jimmy Dale Gilmore
Sierra
The original plan had us hiking out with all of our gear on our backs. One of the drivers of this was in attempting to keep the cost down. Logic being that the food would be gone, thus a large portion of the weight. But in looking at everything it the cold light of mid- morning it still was going to be a sizable load. It was at this time that the people in our group with the most common sense suggested that we should have some horses bring most of our gear out, if possible. It was met with unanimous agreement. Money didn’t seem so important now. Funny how that is… So we negotiated a deal on the spot, and the two young sons of Cole and Sherri agreed to ride in next week Saturday and help bring our stuff out.
Bill, Diane, and Renee began the hike in with nothing more than some water bottles and a bite to eat, while Andrew, Kevin and I helped with the gear loading, and getting our steeds arranged. Once everything got loaded and adjusted properly our pack train was on its way. Dwight’s mule was pretty ornery and provided some comedy as he was trying to get on the critter. The first part of the trail is nice and smooth with a gentle incline, and was very pleasant riding. Within several kilometres we caught up to the others. Eventually though, the reverie started to diminish as the kilometres slowly started to add up, and as the terrain increased in difficulty. There were quite a few steep and rocky sections that became quite challenging to negotiate. This was far more serious terrain than I had ever ridden, and my body was starting to feel it. We stopped for a pee break, and it was hard to walk. My knees were killing me. My back was killing me. I got back on Dan (my trusty horse, and no relation to Stan) and realized that it was my ass that was killing me now. As I looked off into the distance… it was sinking in, that there was still a very long way to go.
The hours passed. Eventually we arrived at Island Lake; and as we stopped for a bit I saw Dwight giving what appeared to be directions to a hiker. We found out about thirty gruelling minutes later that he was actually getting directions… wrong directions. We rode up a very steep hill that seemed to be veering away from where we thought our intended direction was. It had been some time since I was last in the area, so my recollection was a bit dim to say the least. Oh well, maybe this was the stock trail we thought. But soon the ‘trail’ petered out and it was only a vague track we were following. Kevin or Andrew muttered something like: “do you think the others will be able to follow this”. That’s when I called up to Sierra and Dwight to hold up so we could have a confab. I mentioned to Dwight that I thought we were off course. This is when he fessed up how he actually got directions from that hiker. Apparently Dwight had never been past Island Lake before. We turned around… and of course we had to ride down that god-awful hill we just rode up. It was a real bitch. We probably lost close to an hour in that little side excursion. The good news was that it was only about half an hour further ride to our destination. You could tell that ol’ Wrong Way was a bit pissed, but nothing could be done about it now. It was going to be a long day for those animals. We quickly unloaded the gear and said our goodbyes, asking Dwight to be sure to tell the rest of our team the correct directions. Make sure you walk along the beach…
Three days in the saddle, you know my body hurt
It bein’ summer, I took off my shirt,
And I tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt
– Me and my Uncle- Grateful Dead (Traditional)
Ol’ Wrong Way
Let me sleep in your meadows…
We only relaxed for a few minutes as we watched the now empty pack train fade from view. The next order of business was to secure a camp-site. We found a nice little spot a couple of hundred meters away off the side trail up to Indian Basin. It was close to water, but as it later turned out, maybe a little too close to the trail. The three of us ferried the packs up to the camp and set about setting up tents and filtering some water. We were really surprised when Andrew shouted that he saw the rest of the crew. I was relieved as I always am in such situations. I never like splitting the group up; anything can happen. And we had all the gear and supplies.
First Camp
Soon we were reunited however and started swapping stories. Everyone was tired, and not very hungry. Andrew only managed a few bites of his gianormous three day sangwich. Some were feeling the effects of the altitude worse than others also. We decided then and there to have a lie in the following morning and to spend the day on an exploratory foray up into Indian Basin. And that is exactly what we did.
To be continued…