Tyra was remarkable. She hopped over the taller logs with aplomb and vigor, and waited patiently when I stopped in order to figure out what direction I might go in next.
I got a bit whiny after a few hours of toolie busting because I did not see any end in sight. Plus, we were going uphill. And I did not see any signs of our immediate destination, Thompson Pass, in sight.
We finally did what I perceived to be an about face, and then had to deal with some rather boggy creek crossings. This was much to the dismay of Hrimmi, who planted her feet and would not move until presented with other, drier options. We tied up the horses and went up and down the creek bed, looking for the best place to cross. Pete finally found it, back a ways from our immediate destination, a nearby road.
We rode the dirt road for the rest of the day. It was cool midday but hot later on. At various times during the day, I found myself thinking about the early pioneers. They were so tough compared to us all. A good number of them died while on this journey. Many of them were woman and children.
We arrived at Elizabeth Paul’s gravesite. Her marker said that she was 32 when she passed on – she died giving childbirth. Her child was two years old. Geez – and here I am concerned about going through deadfall.
We passed up two possible campsites; one was the Wyoming Game and Fish building area. We agreed, the corral was too dilapidated and therefore unsafe. The second was a regular campsite with a picnic table. We kept going because in both instances we thought it was too early to camp. Finally, the ideal campsite materialized. It had what we were looking for – trees for highlining, good graze, water close by, and a flat tent spot.
Next: 190. 7/12/19: On the Lander Cut Off Trail