gotta vent

I am so sick of the "Go Green" movement, it has begun to make me violently angry. Don't get me wrong, I think some things are good and fall under the "responsible" category, but somethings are just total Bull Shit! We are in the midst of an economy that has sunk to the bottom of the crapper, and people are concerned about creating "green" jobs? Are you kidding me? My whole life recycling paper products has been pushed on me, starting as soon as I got to kindergarten. Back then there were about a dozen Mills where I grew up, now there are none. Go figure. I know that NAFTA didn't help, but I wonder when I see all the mills close across the northwest, and all the dead beetle killed trees just rotting. Drought has its part, but so does the immense lack of use. It's a renewable resource!!! Use it or loose it you dirty hippies.

Lena

I love my wife so much. When we first met, she didn't show me a whole lot of personality, but things have changed a lot since then. These are two of my favorite pictures of her. The picture on the left is the good quiet Lena, most people know. The one on the right is the Lena I know. There is way more attitude than what meets the eye.

Steel head trip = success

I just spent three days fishing for steel head back in Idahome. These are truly an amazing fish. They are born in the mountains of Idaho, and then run hundreds of miles to the ocean, where they spend most of their lives, then they return to spawn back in the waters they were conceived in. I think their lives are truly awesome, even though they are just fish. They overcome so many obstacles to reach their one and only goal in life, reproduction. It really makes me wonder what life is all about...........................

Keep the gloves up

I am so sick of commercials these days. What happened to selling your product based on it's attributes? I feel like most of the commercials now rag on their competitor, like a petty political commercial. Not only does it make me want want to turn the channel, it makes me want to buy the competitor's product. It makes me think back to the summer of 2006, when Conrad Burns and John Tester were running for senate. All they did was bash each other publicly, in a childish "my dad can beat up your dad, and your mom's a crack whore" way. I couldn't listen to the radio, and luckily I couldn't vote for either one of the morons. A wise man once told me, " You will never make yourself look better by tearing down someone else." I wish these advertising firms agreed.

Hay runs (part 4)

Sometime after sitting in the saddle long enough you loose track of time and settle into a daze of random thoughts, memories, and for me, usually a song. I had sung every one that popped into my head, and was in the middle of "Shooting Star" by Bad Company when we crossed over Basin Creek yet again higher up the mountain. The creek was much smaller here, but just as clear and cold. Chester tried to stop for a drink unsuccessfully, no one else was stopping. The rest of the stock pushed and pulled him up the pass. I smiled to myself as I looked back at the string winding up the trail. "Johnny died one night, died in his bed. Bottle of whiskey, sleeping tablets by his bed." Sarah and Lilly paid no attention to the lyrics as I inspected every one's saddle and pad, nose bags, and loads. Nothing looked out of place. The song reminded me of a job I had back home, working at a welding shop. When a good song came on the radio four of us there would usually start singing in unison. Immediately my thoughts bursted down the timeline of my life to where I was now. It almost felt like a different life, and in a way it was. I opened my pommel bag and took out a bottle of water, and took a drink. "Johnny's life passed him by like a warm summer day, if you listen to the wind you can still hear him play."
Lena came back into my mind again, and immediately I got anxious. I absolutely could not wait to see her again. I began to question myself and our relationship, almost like I was having a conversation with someone else. I knew I loved her, but was she who I wanted to marry? A year ago I wouldn't have been capable of such thoughts. I was terrified of loosing my freedom. I had a job, or two, that I could walk a way from at any minute. I had no debt of any kind, no mortgage, no truck payment, no loans. There was nothing holding me to anything or any place, which is about as free as you can get. I could ride out of here and leave tomorrow with a full belly, some pocket money, and a full tank of gas. This was about as good as it could get for the last few years of my life. I realized that I wasn't scared of loosing that anymore. There were only two women in my life that had never wanted me to be anything but who I was. My Grandmother, and Lena. I would gladly share my life with someone like that. I realized that she never put up any fences, and that is what kept me around.
We had made it near the top of the pass and as I looked back over the string I could see a view hardly rivaled any where. I looked back at a Danaher Valley and the drainage from where I had just come, wondering if I would ever see it again. We passed in and out of the shade and an immediate temperature change could be felt by the sun's rays. The trail was soft with silt and dust dried out from the arid conditions. Still no tracks except ours on the trail. We passed by the old trapper's cabin, a stoic relic of the past. A life I thought I could understand, and possibly even lead. I had about a half hour to the top, so I took out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich I made yesterday. I looked at the tree's that covered the heights of the pass. Short and stunted by the weather hardened life. They gained in character what they lost in height, for even though they were small I knew they were several lifetimes old. Blown by the wind and hampered by the elements they still managed life.
We wandered up the last few hundred yards to the top, and I led the string off the trail onto a flat spot in the timber. I didn't even have to steer, Sheriff knew the drill. He stopped in front of a tree, and I dismounted. I took Sarah's lead and tethered it in to the piggin on the back of my saddle. I tied Sheriff to his tree and began to stretch my legs. I walked back and made some minor adjustments to the string. They were sweaty from the walk, and emitted a sweet yet bitter smell. The sweat mixed with the leather makes a smell and a memory that I will never loose. I pulled each cinch a little tighter and checked my three loads. The mules had settled into the routine and were ready to continue. I untied Sheriff's lead and gave the reins one half hitch around my saddle horn. We started our walk down the east side of the divide. With every step we were a little closer to the corral, and I was a little closer to her.

Hay runs (part 3)

I looked back at my string as we headed out of the quiet camp, the only evidence of people was the white canvas wall tent and the corral. My hay stack had grown considerably with each trip in, now up to almost eighty bales. We would need a few more to feed through the early riffle season. The mules had settled into a good pace, nose to tail, long ears flopping with each step. All the pack rings on the saddles lined up with their broached manes, each had their nose bag on, everything looked good. Onward and upward. I started to relax as I turned to look ahead at the small foot bridge that crossed the creek on the western edge of camp. I slowed Sheriff down as his hoof's clanked on the newly rebuilt bridge. After I watched each mule cross the bridge without trouble I looked ahead and asked Sheriff to pick up the pace. He knew the trail well, perhaps better than any one animal in the string. I could sit back and relax as he led the way home.

I get a great feeling when I'm finally on the trail, all the stress and anxiety melt away. My thoughts instantly leave the process of work and begin to wander. She is always the first thing that comes to mind. I looked up at the sun's place in the sky, 8:03. She would be at work by now. I had never seen her office, so I just tried to imagine her in a similar place. I wondered what she was wearing, and always pictured her smiling. I started to think about how far we had come since we first met, and how much my image of her had changed. It seemed like we had known each other a lot longer than just a year. I never would have known she would have me feeling this way about life, and about my future. I started to question my own goals, and the things I thought I had wanted for myself. I was thinking it was time to make a big decision, the kind that really changes your life.

I quickly glanced back at the string and checked the saddles, pads, nose bags, and loads. Everything looked great so I urged Sheriff on a little more. The sun was starting to really pick up the intensity, and its powerful rays were piercing the forest canopy with ease. The birds were noisy and the bugs were coming out. This year was especially bad for bees, and biting flies. They had played hell on us a couple of trips in, causing the mules to break away and a load or two to shift. I stopped the string at Basin Creek and gave them all a little time to drink up for the ride. It was crystal clear, and even up on top of Sheriff I could smell how clean and cold the water was. It had warmed up enough to take off my scarf, so I removed it and put it in my vest pocket. We crossed Basin Creek and emerged from the heavy timber into a wide open plain, known as the "air strip". I looked back to check everything as the whole string picked up the pace across the wide open. We were headed for the pass.

I looked around for animals, and saw none. The sky was completely clear blue, and the green towering tree covered mountains boldly contrasted its emptiness. I started to get a little nervous now as I thought about this upcoming week. I had made up my mind over these last couple months, and I couldn't wait any longer. I knew. In fact, I had known for a while. I was completely in love with Lena, and I wanted to ask her to marry me. Chills ran through me, and I swear Sheriff picked up on it because he cocked his left ear back at me. I sat there up high in the saddle, but felt kinda like I was floating across the trail. The open meadow came to a close as we entered the dark timber of the west side of the divide. I held Sheriff up and tucked Sarah's lead back into the ring. I dismounted and tied Sheriff to a small tree along the trail. I trusted him but not that much, only a fool would risk such a long walk home. I quickly relieved myself, then removed the timber rails that blocked the trail. A last ditch effort to keep the stock from leaving the valley when we turned them loose. I untied Sheriff and swung back into my seat, glancing back as the string advanced down the trail. In one and a half hours we would be at the top of the pass. I opened my snuff can and took a small pinch then put it back in my pocket. The trail ahead had no tracks on it that weren't from my trip in the day before. I scanned it ahead until it disappeared into the thick canopy of brush and timber. Once again my thoughts returned to Lena. I began to sing "Night Rider's Lament" to my string as we made our way home.

Hay runs (part 2)

As I ate my breakfast, I started to think about her again. I tried to picture her getting ready for her day back in her house. It seemed like we were living in two different worlds, separated by mountains. I couldn't wait to see her again, to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. A strange feeling pulsed through my veins and suddenly I couldn't wait to get on the trail out of camp. I began cleaning up my dishes and putting the contents back in the camp box. I mantied up the box and hung it high up out of reach. It was still dark, but a faint light was starting to sift through the eastern sky. I walked down to the corral and grabbed the first of the eleven halters that hung from the post. I grabbed Sherrif's first. I turned my light down to the ground as to try to not frighten the stock. I walked toward Sheriff, the only horse in the corral and dropped the lead rope to my right hand. I approached him from the left and before he could play any games, I draped the rope around his neck and caught his head. I put the halter on and led him out to the farthest tree from the corrals.

Ten more times I caught a mule and led them to their own tree, putting them into strategic place for their line in the string, and for their behavior. First came Bud, then Cindy, Ruby, Sarah didn't want to be caught, Linda, Lilly, Sparky, Charlie, Doug, Chester. I gave them all a piece of "cake" while I brushed them down. I turned off my head lamp. It was just light enough to see without falling down. Camp was quiet, except for Linda occasionally pawing the ground for attention. I looked them over with my hands and the brush feeling their soft summer hide, all the remnants of the sweat from yesterdays ride gone without a trace. Each brush stroke smoothed out the hide and pulled dust away from their hair. They all looked good, no sores, all of them had their shoes. Time to saddle.

I saddled Linda first because she was a "walker" so I snubbed her short to the tree. I pulled the cinch tight and went to Sparky, who had become a gentleman in the last few weeks. Before he was unpredictable and terrified of his saddle and pad, but with all the time on the trail he had become a good hand. Cindy was a "stomper" so you had to watch your toes. The rest were easy. Last I threw my rig onto Sheriff, the one animal that I completely trusted. I had rolled all the mantys up into "cig rolls" and only had three of them to put onto mules. Sparky, Charlie, and Linda all got one. I wanted them to ride all the way home, so I put them on the squarest mules and tied them down into the cinch ring. Linda got one, because each time she was loaded she got a little better on the trail. We were ready.

I quickly used the latrine, and did a sweep around camp. I grabbed my pommel bags and my pistol and walked down to Sheriff. I loaded my bags and began to pull cinches and assemble my string. Lilly and Sarah were going to lead, because Sarah was becoming a bitch on the trail, and had started to make a habit of pulling back and snapping her piggin. I was not going to tolerate such bad behavior today. Next came Bud, then Cindy, then Doug, Chester, Sparky, Charlie, Ruby, and last was the rookie Linda. I had to side line her into Ruby, because she still didn't quite know to stay on the trail. She had a bad habit of veering out to one side and getting warning kicks from Ruby. She was learning, it would just take more miles. After they were all set to go, I pulled Sheriff's cinch and strapped on my gun belt. I untied Sheriff, and then Sarah, tucked her lead rope into the ring on my back cinch, and quickly swung my leg over the saddle. Sheriff backed up a little in a circle as I pulled Sarah's lead rope clear of the ring. My saddle creaked a little as I settled in. Sheriff was already trying to race out of camp when I started the nearly empty string for home. I looked at my watch, 7:58. "Lets go home kids! Huuuup Mules!!!!!" The hoofbeats of the string quickly picked up in unison as we headed out of camp into the morning summer sun.

Hay runs (part 1)

My eyes opened before my brain turned on and tuned in to what was going on around me. It was really dark in camp, but through the trees I could make out the morning star shining bright as ever. Daylight was only an hour or so away, at best. It was cold this morning, and I could only think about taking a leak as I reached for my blue jeans and my boots. I opened my bed roll pulled my head lamp out of my right boot and slowly stretched the elastic band around my matted hair. I stumbled out of the tent and with a big anticipated sigh, I relaxed as I relieved the pressure in my bladder. I looked up at the vast canopy of stars that stretched out over camp, and started going over the process in my head. Make coffee, oatmeal, gather up the stock, brush them all down, saddle, load, hang up the camp box, tie in my string, and hit the trail for the corrals.

This was the third trip out this week, and hopefully the last for a few days. I was starting to think about taking a couple days off as I turned on the little bottle of propane and lit the single burner stove. I put the pot of creek water on the burner and began to tie up my bed roll. I had slept on the manty tarps last night, and to my surprise no mice had taken any hot laps over my forehead. Come to think of it, I had slept pretty well. The trip in yesterday was twenty one miles of peace for the most part. No wrecks on the trail, no broken piggin's, and I hardly had to re-adjust my loads. The mules were all behaving now, a few hundred miles on the trail helps to settle them down. They were getting leaner, so the loads rode better too. I finished packing up my gear and turned to the boiling water. I reached for the baggie of coffee grounds and took out one big handful, shook the loose grounds in the bag and dumped them in the boiling water. I reached for my pommel bags and took out two hard boiled eggs. I unwrapped the tinfoil, and peeled the shells off into a small pile on the stove. I took the shells and dumped them into my coffee. Pulled the pot off of the burner and replaced it with my oatmeal pot. I had about fifteen more minutes before I really got busy. I tied open both entrance flaps on each side of the tent, and hung my bed roll off the tent frame. Leaving the flaps down only invites a bear to tear a hole to see whats in side the tent. I grabbed my blue coffee cup from it's hook and squatted on my heel's waiting for the water to boil. I poured the fresh coffee and held my cup under my nose. I could tell by the steam hitting my nostrils that it was still just a little too hot. I looked to the east side of camp, and the trail was still pitch black in the timber. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my watch. 4:36 am. I was doing pretty well for time, so I blew a little on the coffee and took my first sip. It was dang good, and I had to smile a little. I ate my breakfast in peace, no noise in camp except for the slow lull of the crickets, and an occasional whoosh from one of the mules switching their tales. Even they were enjoying the last few minutes of silence before the work of going home began.

One year ago today...

I made a promise to my wife before God and my family, and for the last year it has been really easy to keep. I love being married to Lena. In a very strange way my life has become simpler, and much much better. I am so glad I had the courage to ask, and that she had the courage to say yes. Tonight we ate a piece of our cake (from the wedding) and it was still good. I think that is a great sign for the future.

Somebody's dream

I was born to live to in the high-country. I love working with my hands, and I love looking out over the tops of ridges down into the sweeping deep green valleys that lie below. There is a great pride and peace that comes from watching the sun rise over land a mile above the sea. Life is a little tougher up high, there are fewer short cuts accompanied by more work. Though all in all, it really is simpler. You know what you have to do, and you do it.

I like to think about making a life in extraordinary places, like the one in the picture. It took a lot of work, grit, and a dream. A while back I was leading a pack string through the Bob Marshall Wilderness and we came across an old trapper's cabin high up on the west side of the continental divide. The man riding with me had a comment that will stick with me for ever. "There's some body's dream." I had never thought of it like that before. This chiminey stands as a testament to someone's work hardened hands, skill, and dreams. A life nearly forgotten. It has stood in the high country for over a hundred years, weathered but still intact unlike the rest of the house. No other details of their life to be found. Only stone, and a foundation for our imaginations to grow on.

Chucky S.

I finished editing an older post, but this blog wouldn't let me post it today. So look up Chucky S. from January. I'm headed out to build some more fence.

Roller coaster

Wrestling is a brutal sport for parents. I feel sorry for my mom and dad, and occasional other family members who used to come watch me compete. Hours of sitting... and then a ride on an emotional roller coaster. It is great when we win but very hard to watch someone lose that you care about, especially when you know they can do better. I love coaching. There is something about it that drives me. I really enjoy trying to help others reach their goals. I think I like it better than competing myself. I used to hardly ever get nervous before I competed, but now as a coach I am a wreck at times. I know how hard some of these kids work, and how much they want to succeed. It is very hard for me to watch them loose, but awesome to watch them win and grow. I remember my sophomore season in high school, and a cross road that I came to, and one my mother did too. I was finally getting good, and was looking to place at state. In the district tournament, my weight class had the top four kids in the state, and we only took three. I had a bad tournament losing a close match in the semis, and then again for third place. I was utterly devastated, but so was my mother. This was one of the first times I realized how tuff it was to be a parent of a wrestler. My mother wanted me to win so badly. She prayed and prayed, and when I lost she was distruaght. She blamed God. That week she took pictures of Jesus off of our walls, and took the bible out of the living room. She felt like God turned his back on us. It was hard for me to watch my mother loose her faith, and difficult to understand. I don't believe her prayers went unanswered. I remember crying by myself in an empty hallway, making a promise to myself that this would never happen to me again. I was going to get better, I was going to be somebody. Everything was different for me after that. I wrestled all summer, attended camps, did push ups every morning and night, and ran in the off season. It was because of that bad tournament that I became successful. That devastation and dissapointment drove me to a higher level, that I probably would have never known had it not happened. I believe that is how God answered my mothers prayers. Sometimes it has to get worse so that it can get better.

Great places to eat breakfast.

My favorite meal. I am compiling a list of places to eat breakfast and really enjoy yourself.
The Early Bird II- Helena, MT
Steve's Cafe- Helena, MT kinda expensive but great
Mel's Diner- Augusta, MT
The Trolley House- Boise, ID
Goldy's- Boise, ID also expensive but awesome
The Windmill- Plummer, ID
Bucky's Cafe- Caimbridge, ID
The Hardware Store- Montana City, MT
Blue Plate Cafe- Hayden, ID
The Breakfast Nook- Rathdrum and CDA, ID
Monell's- Nashville, TN
I have eaten Breakfast in a lot of towns across this country, but these are the first to come to my mind. They have a hearty old fashioned awesome breakfast. If you like Basque Chorizo try Goldy's. It's awesome and I'm missing it right now. Of course nothing compares to having breakfast at My Grandpa Don's. Best Hot Cakes around. The real deal.

What limits us?

The other day on the way home from church Lena was making faces at me and she rolled her tongue. Then she asked me if I could do that?... No, I can't. She started laughing at me and said excitedly, " Ha! I can do something you can't!" Normally, my competitive nature would have me practicing secretly until I could master this task. Standing in front of the mirror each morning concentrating until I could match roll my tongue. However, no matter how much I practiced and dedicated myself to the task, I know I can never accomplish it. I have to concede to defeat, which is not easy for me. Especially when it involves my wife. I have been limited by nature. I have a genetic trait that doesn't allow me to roll my tongue. I will never be able to do it. It got me thinking about what our limits are. I was raised with the mind set that you can accomplish anything if you devote your whole self to the goal. My oldest brother dedicated himself to becoming a professional athlete, after years of hard work and sacrifice he accomplished the feat. It took tremendous dedication and much sacrifice. He also was fortunate to have a great support system from his family, and others in the community. Bottom line, he never let doubt plague him to the point he gave up. I always wanted to be a great wrestler. Thank God I was given some talent and good genes, but that is not what made me successful. I was willing to work very hard for what I wanted. Talent only gets us so far, work ethic makes us successful. I believe if we want something bad enough we can make our own fate. Their are few things in life that can really limit us if we are relentless. Most people let a lot of things limit them, especially Economic background. America has more rags to riches stories than anywhere else. That's one great thing about our country; besides if it is really such a deterrent why are so many flooding our borders? J.R. Simplot was relentless in pursuit of success. He started as a poor farmer without even a high school diploma. He became a billionaire. It was not luck that got him there. People are not successful because they are lucky. Our success reflects our determination and our dedication, and our limits are really only a test of what we are willing to be satisfied with. I think if I really wanted to roll my tongue, I could find a way.

Another one done

I finished the other Vanity. I'm not gonna miss it.

Afraid of change

Last night I re-applied for a teaching job. The trouble is I'm not sure I want it. I like my current lifestyle... most of the time. There are times when I wish I could see my wife more, or times when I flat out wish I had something to do that paid me, (winter), but overall its pretty nice. I am scared to give up my freedom. I am in an internal debate on what is better for my wife and I. Money is not, or has never really been a major concern. Lifestyle is everything, but now it involves more than just me. I really try to make decisions that benefit my wife and I, and not just myself. Now I don't know what to do, and am feeling a little anxiety over the reality of this decision.