Lane, Cedric, Kelsey, Grant (with Stephanie hiding behind), Dixie, Chad (with Heather hiding behind)
This picture was taken at the Pine River Trail head near Vallecito Reservoir in Colorado. It is a place that brings instant nostalgia to me. So many memories and experiences that I decided to write them down, mostly for me, so that I will remember them as I get older.
Dixie's memories of the Pine River & Williams Creek trails
--The day that Nate Farnsworth and I slept together (oh dear, that sounds bad...but it wasn't, I promise) in the back seat of Bill Gorm's old yellow car while Bill snored away in the front. We had driven to the trail head late at night and were saddling up at first light.
--I learned that my dad can cook. What?!? That was a shocker. And not only could he cook, but he cooked a lot, and if I wanted to go fishing (and I did) I had to eat an enormous stack of pancakes. I polished them off every morning!!
--The mountains have their own hazing rights. My right of initiation included a walk beneath an ice cold glacial waterfall. It was so cold that I ran behind it on my way back instead of walking through it. So, they made me do it again. Brrr! That was cold.
--I learned that ears burn and blister very easily at high altitudes and why it is important to protect them with sunscreen. That was an ouch of an experience.
--I learned history as I read carvings in trees, some so old that the white aspen bark curled in on itself and we could barely make out the late 1800 and early 1900 dates. It seems like some were even older with Spanish names, but I would have to ask my dad to be sure.
--Fools gold isn't just a chunk of metal that you can buy in silly tourist traps. Iron pyrite is beautiful, especially when little flakes of it pepper the ground and sparkle in the creeks.
--Never, never (and can I add NEVER) walk behind someone when your fishing pole has a Panther Martin skewered to the end. And if you for some reason must, please, for heaven's sake, don't walk with the pole tip down. It really hurts when you have to fish out a barbed hook from between someone's shoulder blades. So, sorry Rob!!
--K9...that's the secret to every woman's camping dreams, at least when camping at Flag Mountain.
--Flag Mountain, Pope's Nose, Flint Creek, Granite Lake, Porcupine Creek, Willow Flats.....names that make my insides go all soft and gooey.
--Being alone in camp and meeting a scraggly haired, leather fringed, Bowie knife carrying mountain man = really freaky. Luckily, he was really nice and only looking for his missing horses. We had seen them run pell-mell down the trail a few hours earlier and I eagerly pointed him in that direction.
--The back country is dangerous. People and animals can get hurt. My dad did. I still remember hearing a loud thud, and then my very southern Aunt Marci drawling, "Don't let Dixie see Lane! He's hurt!" I ran to my tent and started crying until I heard him at the campfire. When I dried my tears, I came out of the tent to see how bad he was hurt. I remember laughing. He smiled, but I think that didn't feel very good with his busted nose and split open lip. Later, I went to see what had happened. He had decided to race a friend on a straight and smooth stretch of trail on their way back from Flint Lake when his horse, Madeline (a very sure footed mountain horse), tripped. My dad went flying, landing face first on a log. The fish he carried home were ground to bits. The pommel had scrapes down it where Madeline had literally flipped head over heals. My dad reminded me on his way to the hospital the next morning (which included a 12 mile horseback ride) to never take risks in the mountains, because even the best horse or most experienced person can still get hurt. We were very lucky that day.
--I learned to be prepared and some basic mountain rules:
1. Keep dry. Hypothermia is a killer, and it can and does snow every month of the year.
2. A first aid kit is a lifesaver. Just be sure to have a pocket knife, matches, & pain meds inside.
3. Carry snacks. Nothing is worse than being cold and hungry.
4. Tarp over everything in camp, and life will be well.
5. Always trust your horse, they remember the way home even when you don't.
--Never underestimate a well said "S-H-I....." (you can use your imagination to fill in the rest), especially while sliding down a precarious mountainside.
--Bathing in the mountains is it's own thrill. It's basically skinny dipping in almost frozen water. At some point, you don't care who might be riding by on a trail, just so long as you get done!
--There is nothing cooler than being a 15 year old girl, riding her horse and nonchalantly pulling a pack while passing a troop of hiking Venture Scouts...or pulling a huge horse trailer filled with horses for the matter.
--It's amazing how (wonderfully) isolated one can be after riding just 12 miles into the wilderness, and how bright the stars are in the night sky.
--Did you know that white flowers GLOW on moonlit nights? I learned that once when riding into camp in the dark. Did you also know that if you have a peripherally blind horse (at least that is what we suspect), those same glowing flowers are life threatening & you had better be holding tight. The same holds true for unusually large rocks (lucky for us the Pine River is in the Rocky Mountains), deer off in the distance and many other should-be-harmless things that turn a simple trail ride into an adventure. After 5 days of crow hopping, side stepping & shying away every quarter mile or so down the trail, my nerves had had it. One last bucking bronc scene and I decided that I could walk the last 1/4 mile to the trail head. That you Whitney for the memorable ride.
The more I think back, the more wonderful memories I recall. It makes me think of something Jake said once after our trip to Mount Rushmore. He said something to this effect, "When you said that we were going to Mount Rushmore, I thought that we were just going to see mountains with piles of rocks. But, that was the trip of a lifetime."
That pretty much sums up my feelings for all of the pack trips with my dad.
