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Trip Dispatch #27: Tuesday, June 14: Major Creek to Canyon Creek: Raudi’s Bad Horse Day

We packed up early and ate breakfast adjacent to an electrical tower. The horses chowed down on the lusher, more abundant grass. Early on, I got this sense that Raudi was having a bad horse day. She veered slightly to the left when we traveled along the road, and then she lollygagged on what turned out to be a long, tough climb. Raudi later verified that she was in a bad mood by refusing to cross Horseshoe Creek. The creek itself wasn’t deep or that fast-flowing. The foot-high drop-off was more troublesome. She stopped, and a line from Melville’s Bartelby the Scrivner came to mind. It was “If you please sir, I’d prefer not to.” Pete moved Siggi in front of Raudi, but Siggi, seeing that Raudi refused to cross the creek, did the same.

We tried, both on and off the horses, to coax them across the creek. We considered going back and taking the road to Pitkin, but didn’t want to backtrack. It wasn’t a matter of winning or losing, but rather a matter of not wanting to deal with the steep and potentially treacherous terrain.

We did what we had to do. I crossed a log, and Pete tossed me a rope. I looped it around a tree and tossed it back to him; he then tied it to Signy, who immediately gave in, diving into the water. We did the same with Siggi. He was more resistant, that is until I held up his white canvas feed bag, as would an airline flight attendant. He nickered, I tugged, and into the creek he went. Raudi was next. She of course wasn’t going to budge, no matter how hard I pulled. Pete suggested that we tie her to Signy, and that he lead her. I wish I’d gotten a photo of Signy at the moment in which Pete requested she move forward. She gave Raudi a look that would kill. Raudi then complied, half-falling, half-scrambling into the creek and up the far bank. This whole deal took close to two hours. This isn’t the way we usually do such things. But it was hopefully the first and last time that we’ll have to resort to using such measures.

 

Tomichi Creek near Sargents
Tomichi Creek near Sargents

Canyon Creek near Horseshoe Creek
Canyon Creek near Horseshoe Creek

Siggi and his feed bag
Siggi and his feed bag

We camped at the confluence of Canyon and East Canyon Creek, in an alpine meadow surrounded by spruce trees. There was plenty of grass here; although, as always, I wondered about its nutrient value. I did my wash and hung it on a log. The horses grazed a bit and then busted through Pete’s makeshift fence—this with hobbles on—and headed at a gallop back down the trail. It was like in a cartoon—they were followed by swarms of gnats. We put all on the highline and I wiped them down with bug spray. Pete, looking at where they blew through camp, observed that it looked like a yard sale.

Next: Dispatch #28: Downroad to Pitkin