Over the Mountain

After they fired me as Scout Master, the Ward needed someone with a pack outfit to haul grub and paraphernalia for two troops of boys over Pine Mountain. The hike was to begin at New Harmony where the trail heads up Comanchee Canyon and there's where I'd pack up their camp supplies. My son Victor was a scout at that time so figured it would be a good outing to go along with him. Liberty was about 13 years old then and was a fun camper so she went with us to help trail up the pack animals.

We left home about four days before our appointed date of rendezvous at Harmony and climbed up over the mountain by way of Wet Sandy Trail to South Valley. I think we probably camped the second night in North Valley. The weather was clear and ideal for camping and packing but it was along toward the end of July when it generally starts raining. We had plenty of time to make the trip so wasn't in a hurry. Victor, Liberty, Leon and Scott Gubler, and me with about 10 head of animals composed our bunch.

After breakfast one morning all four kids took off to ride over to Long Valley and play around some, while I got things ready to go on down the trail toward Mill Flat. A couple hours or so later they came back and Liberty was all banged up and Blaze had a bad cut and skinned place between his front legs and on his belly.

Seems like they had been running around, playing tag and Leon was chasing Liberty and she ran Blaze through one of them boggy places where water comes up to the surface. His legs sink way in and threw him astraddle of an old quaken asp log with a sharp limb stub sticking up.

They're all riding bareback so momentum throws Liberty over onto the grass, but Leon's horse, Gray Eagle, don't have good brakes and he can't stop, so he uses Blaze and Liberty to step on while he goes on across the boggy place. He's running hard when he puts a couple of feet on her back so them thumps ain't easy at all. It would probably a broke her back but she's laying on soft shakey grass with bog underneath that gives to the thrust. It hurts mighty bad and for awhile she thinks it's broken.

Ol' Grizz is mighty anxious about her and keeps lapping her face with his tender loving tongue till the hurt eases up and the boys help her stand on her feet. They come limping into camp and after I look at her back and Blaze's belly we decide to stay there that night and go on down to New Harmony the next day. I doctor them both with Campho-Phenique to help them rest easy and the next day Liberty rides Blaze bareback and I tied her saddle on top of one of the packs. She's mighty sore but I'm very thankful it ain't worse.

Shortly before we had left home I'd bought a pretty good looking saddle from Jack Pyper for Victor, but all the way up he'd been having trouble with it sliding to one side of the other. When we got beyond Mill Flat about 3 miles, the trail climbs up over a rough rocky cut in a ledge and that saddle tips Victor off onto a big rock, then goes down under Checker's belly. There's big rocks on both sides, a steep trail in front with a horse climbing along it and several horses to his rear so there aint much a sensible horse can do but stop, which he did, when Victor pulled on the reins. I'm bringing up the rear and see it all happen. Checker's just a 3 year old and I can see him moving this way and that trying to come to a decision, then, being a good little horse he just stops and stands still while we take it off and trade saddles and I ride the slippery one. It's a hard one to keep in place all right, no wonder Jack wanted to get rid of it.

About another mile and we came to that place where those pretty smelling little flowers grow. Your nose picks up the scent a couple hundred yards before you get to where they are. They grow close to the ground with flat pinkish white flowers about 1 or 2 inches across. They're all over the ground for a hundred yards or more. They have the best flower smell I've ever sniffed, bar none, including those costly French perfumes. If a gal could smell like that she'd have all the guys bamboozled. That's the one and only place I've ever smelled or seen these heady little tantalizers.

We trail on over to White Rock area and turn down by Big Water Pond then on east to the old Prince cabin at the head of Comanchee Canyon. We leave Victor and Leon there and I take Blaze and the pack horses and Liberty and Scott with me to ride down the Comanchee Trail to New Harmony. The sky has clouded over and it looks like rain.

About a mile west and north of town we find the scouts at the end of the road, unloading the pick up and making camp. Mark Harris and John Rietchsnider are the scout masters. They've both earned their eagle scout award. I tell Richard Beaumont about Liberty and Blaze's problems and we load them in the pickup and haul them back home and then return.

It's getting late now, so the scouts decide to stay where they're at till the next morning. Scott and I don't have any bed with us, it's all up there where Victor and Leon are, at the Prince cabin, but we get under a big tarp with the grub pile and sleep on our saddle blankets. The scouts all sleep in a couple of tents.

Not long after dark it begins to rain and keeps up a steady drizzle all night. I've got the pack mules tied to some cedar trees because no grass grows in these thick cedars. Next morning the scouters get a fire going with a can of gas and the boys huddle around, eating candy bars and other junk food which is tantalizing to the taste buds but bad for the belly.

I get busy putting on pack saddles and packing up as fast as I can, trying to keep things dry and covered up, but the ropes and canvases get all wet, making the packs hard to lash on. All the scouts take off up the trail except Scott. All the time that constant drizzle is wetting everything that will soak up water. My ol' Stetson hat sheds it pretty good but I can feel it soaking up some weight. That old slicker don't help my work any and my boots is feeling water logged. Finally I get it all tied on and line my pack string out with Scott riding point position. I bring up the drags so can keep an eye on the packs and how they balance. Be-derned if luck is with me and there's no pack adjustments necessary.

The trail parallels the little rock lined ditch that carries Comanchee Spring water to the gardens of Harmony. After we pass where it comes out of the ground, a canyon forks to the left (west). We follow up the canyon for a couple of miles then the trail climbs for altitude quite sharply. The wet rain clouds are laying low in the canyon and we're soon shrouded among them. After more climbing we come out above this layer of clouds and, over there a ways, is some tall pine trees sticking up above that fluffy white stuff. It's a most beautiful spectacular sight. No base is visible, just the upper trees in a great field of white clouds. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Now we're above the rain clouds and the trail soon tops out above the steep climb to lead us toward the old cabin. We can hear the scouts a hollering so know we're near camp. Victor and Leon come over to help us unpack and carry it all inside. There's a warm fire burning in the homemade heating stove so the paraphernalia should dry out before too long.

Victor, Leon and Scott hobble out all the horses while I fix up a bit to eat. The clouds are clearing away, letting the sun shine through and all them "sprouts" are running and hollering and having a big time. They keep coming into the camp for snacks and about 5 PM Mark and John start fixing supper. That's not my job, to cook for this bunch. John's got a couple of little dogs that's spoiled and come inside the cabin, being a nuisance, but I don't say anything. O1' Grizz knows his place is outside, keeping watch for bars n such and he'd eat em if any had come along.

Next morning after filling their bellies the "sprouts" all head out up the trail. Victor and Scot are the path finders. They're acting as Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, the fearless leaders of them green horns. They've been over these trails before, and know every crook and turn. Leon and I saddle up our horses and the pack animals. Time we are ready to leave the cabin it's about 2 hours after the troops had departed. I'm riding my little sorrel mule, Pearly, she's sort of contrary and hard to control at times. I'm leading Checker with Victor's lever action .22 in a gun scabbard hung on that slippery Jack Pyper saddle. Leon's got the other pack horses tailed out behind him with some pack mules following along, free.

As we pass by Big Water Reservoir and on up a grassy swale to the southwest, something spooks of Pearly and she takes off on the run. Checker follows so well he never lets the lead rope get tight, so we go up through the flat at a pretty good lick. I'm trying to stop that contrary mule without any success. That Slippery saddle goes off on the right side and down under Checker's belly, dumping Victor's rifle into a little wash. Checker don't get a bit excited, just keeps loping along like that's part of the procedure. I bend that stiffed neck mule and we head back by Leon. I darsn't let go of Checker for fear he might get spooked and stampede. Leon sees my predicament and drops his lead rope and lopes up alongside to take Checker, then I finally bring that mule to a halt. We put the saddle back on top of Checker and tie Victor's gun and scabbard onto a pack horse.

When we get up the trail a ways there ain't any sign or tracks of them boy "sprouts" passing this way so we circle, cutting for tracks but find none. We back-track to a big knoll and pick up their sign following along an old cow trail. The timber grows quite heavy and they've been circling around for the past 2 hours. Leon goes one way and I the other. He heads off the leaders and I catch up to the drags. Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett say they thought some of the trail was starting to look familiar each time they passed that way.

We line them out on the correct route and bring up the rear. Most of the boys have extra coats and rain gear they don't want to carry so I drape them over the slippery-saddle on Checker and tie them in place. We mosey along slow and the boys get strung out quite a distance with them two Eagle Scout Masters up toward the front. In all my Boy Scout hazing days I figured it best to bring up the rear, then you was sure you hadn't let any of the drags stray off or shade up. That's the method a feller uses with sheep and cattle and Boy Scouts ain't much different.

The land is covered with patches of quakin asp, pine and oak with various types of brush and grass. The trail winds this way and that over the ridges and down the draws, through this beautiful mountain scenery. After a bit we catch up with the slow pokes. There's always one or two in every pack. He's a chubby boy with a good appetite. We're now on an upgrade and he appears to be having difficulty toting that extra weight along. I say to him: "Would you like to ride on Checker for awhile?" and he agrees, so I get off and help him climb up on top of all those coats and rein gear and hand him the reins. Leon and Gray Eagle take out in front with the pack horses following along and Checker's tagging them. As usual I'm bring up the rear. We're all poking along, not in any hurry. Patches of heavy clouds are floating along overhead and I'm thinking that it might rain again today. Checker stops and I come out of my day dreaming to take note of what's the cause.

Ol' Kelly and the saddle are down underneath Checker and he's a waiting for me to come up to fix things, so I put them back on top and cinch it up tighter, hopin it'll stay. Hadn't gone a hundred yards when down he goes again. Kelly doesn't want to ride any more now so I switch saddles and put the slippery one on Pearly. Figure the rider can keep it top side if I pay attention. After that we go along without any trouble. Another couple of miles and we catch up with the main bunch. They're waiting for their rain gear to come along cause it sure enough looks like more wetting. It's easy going now so Kelly walks with the other boys.

Lots of good grass here so we let the horses graze for an hour. When a light rain begins to fall we gather them up and head on up the trail. Upon our arrival at Mill Flat all the "sprouts" are bunched up together standing in that steady drizzle. Mark and John was up in the trees trying to find something dry enough to start a fire with. There's some quakin asp logs laying nearby so we untie the axe from atop one of the mules and cut off some pieces down into the dry wood and it don't take long till we've got a big dandy fire going even if it is a raining. We unpack and set up the tents and when the Eagle Sprout Leaders come back, supper is on its way. "How'd you start that fire?" they ask in amazement and I tell them it's just a dumb sheepherder method, but a feller must have an axe.

I got the grub and pack gear all covered up with a good tarp so John fixes his dogs a bed under there next to the grub supply. They're liable to dig into some of it so I run them out with 01' Grizz. They can find their own shelter, but John's got them spoiled bad so I think he took them to bed with him in the tent. I brought extra tarps so some of us slept under them.

Next morning it's cleared up some and we move over to Anderson Valley and then down off the mountain by way of Syler Spring Trail and around the mountain to the ranger cabin on Browse Creek. This is a good camping place among the tall long leaf pines, with the sound of the little creek to lull a feller to sleep. Big rain clouds are overhead, but not much fell on us that night.

The boys had a good time and we all inspected the only Redwood tree that grows naturally on all of the Dixie National Forest. It's about 200 feet tall or more, and probably planted about the year the Pilgrims land at Plymouth Rock, probably by some wandering sea gull from the Pacific coast. Guess his gizzard was unable to grind up the seed.

Next day Leon and I have the pack string ready to go about the same time the "sprouts" take off, so Leon rides out shortly thereafter with the pack animals strung out behind. They all follow along pretty good now so he don't have to lead them. Doesn't look like it will rain but just in case I've got a lot of rain gear tied to that slippery saddle again and it's cinched on tight. Pearly, Checker and me leave about 30 minutes after the main bunch but when we get down along the dugway there's Kelly again poking along, wearing his bright orange plastic rain pancho.

There's heavy clouds up above but the sun's a shining at least half the time. I ask him if he wants me to carry his rain coat but he says no, then I say how about riding Checker there, the saddle's on tight today, so he decides to mount up. I help him on and Pearly acts boogery of that long flapping raincoat. When we start off down the road it goes to flapping some more and Pearly jumps forward and Checker follows suit. He's real gentle but never lets the lead rope tighten.) That forward motion creates more flapping which causes Pearly to run faster. Checker's out of fleet-footed quarter horse stock so can easy keep up along side. The old road is dug from the side of along brush covered ridge on an even grade but winds with some ups and downs sections. Kelly's got a hold of that horn with both hands in a death grip and he aint meaning to let go. That slicker's popping like a flag in a 50 mile gale and Pearly's trying her best to outrun it. We're going up and down those dips and turns at a rapid rate and I'm hoping that saddle don't dump him now. Kelly's mouth is open, gasping for air as he watches that bumpy ground stream by underneath him. Nothing I can do about it. That mule is completely out of control. She's got herself spooked and is trying to outrun that flapping spooker, but it stays there right along side no matter how desperately she tries to get away.

We come around a bend and the road straightens out for a quarter mile. Down at the far end the boys and pack horses are stopped, bunched up blocking off the read. Pearly sees them and puts in a last desperate effort to outrun that booger and get over there with her friends. We are moving at such a fast pace (didn't think she could run like that) she's even got Checker stretched out. I guess Kelly was just waiting for a terrible wreck to occur any second. He's too scared to even make a holler. Just before we get to them, I flip the lead rope over Checker's neck. He come to a sliding halt among the pack horses and Kelly, saddle, rain gear, and all falls off under his belly. The rest of the boys gather round laughing as he looks up at them, knowing he's plumb dead, but they finally convince him he's still alive.

In the meantime, of Pearly can't see a way to get by so makes a flying leap over a service berry bush on the lower side of the dug and we sail down that steep hillside for 20 feet or more. After a couple more jumps she gets her momentum under control and we climb back up to where they're still trying to revive Kelly. That's the wildest ride he'll ever take in his life.

When we get things straightened out we trail down the switch backs and about then here comes Richard with the truck. We take everything off the pack animals and load it in, then the scouts along with John and Mark climb in and all head down the road for home. This is the location where I'd shot a mountain lion a couple years before.

Victor and Leon and I, with the pack animals take the trail up the creek which leads us over the big hump then down Wet Sandy to the old deer camp, then on down to the freeway where we ride through the underpass and out across the sand to the Virgin River which we cross and climb up to La-Verkin town.

When we get home Liberty is feeling pretty good and Blaze is healing up so this trip turned out all right. The Lord had blessed us and we'd had a lot of fun.