Friday, August 26, 2011

City of Rocks PIoneer Trails Endurance Ride



Friday August 26 2011

It is official! The City of Rocks Pioneer Trails multi-day endurance ride has been sanctioned for July 13-14-15-16, 2012, at City of Rocks National Reserve, near Almo, Idaho.

You'll see some amazing scenery and you'll ride on some old Pioneer Trails from the 1800's - the California Trail, the Boise-Kelton Stage Route, and the Salt Lake Alternate Trail.

Despite the "Rocks" in the name of the ride, and despite the 'toon illustration above, we won't make you and your horse rappel down cliffs; and the footing is amazingly non-rocky in most places. You'll ride from sagebrush flats up into alpine forests. Basecamp is at 5700', so when it's hot in July everywhere else, it will be milder there. Just to the north are the Albion Mountains; the trails will head up there one day.

Bring the family even if the rest of them don't ride: bring your climbing shoes or hiking shoes. City of Rocks is one of the premier climbing destinations in the country. Bring your fishing pole too, because the trails (or roads) in the Albion mountains lead you to the high alpine Independence Lakes where cutthroat trout are waiting to jump on your hooks. If you like ATVing, the Cassia Mountains to the west have an abundance of ATV trails.

In the nearest town (which you can see from basecamp) there is a restaurant and general store. If the weather isn't hot enough for you, there are hot springs (and maybe if we beg them) a cool pool.

We'll have a special name for each ride day, like, perhaps,

Beef Jello - Banana (don't ask me! they must be names of climbing routes)
Independence Lakes
My Own Private Idaho - Booby Rocks - Twin Sisters
Moulton - Emigrant Canyon (Moulton is a historic site where an old stage stop and school building is still standing)


We're headed back there next week to ride, ATV and hike, to scout more trails and lay more plans.


Thursday, August 25, 2011

Rattler!



Thursday August 25 2011

I blithely step out the front door and waltz down the steps and
SSSSrattleSSSSSrattleSSSSSSrattleSSSSSrattleSSSSSS!

"J^*#$ K@^$%&$!!!!!"
I spat out something quite inventively profane, or in a foreign language, or possibly both, as I leaped 7 feet in the air, skipping the rest of the steps.

Rattlesnake where there was not one before, has never been before, curled up beside a pretty flower pot on the second step, 5 feet from the front door, rattling at me, coiled, head up, hissing, ready to strike.

Steph came running to the door.

I switched to English. "Sh&*T!" I pointed. "Rattlesnake! Right there!" My heart was racing.

We'd actually seen one - probably the same one - last night in the driveway by the creek. I'd almost walked on top of it before I realized it was a rattlesnake. It didn't rattle at me, just got out of the way and watched me from the bushes. Steph tried to get it with the hoe, but it escaped.

Since we'd missed killing it last night, we didn't want to miss him on the front porch today. This wasn't a job for girls. We called Rick. I took a few (telephoto!) pictures of the snake while we waited for Rick. I was still shaking so most of them came out blurry.

Rick brought a hoe and a rake. He didn't have a real clear shot at the rattlesnake to chop him in half with one blow (and he was a fat rattlesnake), but he tried, swinging the hoe blade down and pinning him with as much muscle as he could muster, and then he tried to crush him behind the head with the rake.

That snake did not want to die. It writhed, twisted and bit the rake, fought, struggled on, and as it died, it kept fighting. I think it did die and it kept fighting. When Rick finally severed the whole head off, the biting finally stopped, but the body kept writhing and rattling for a good 5 minutes.

I did feel sorry for the snake, and said a little snakey apology as he departed - but we have plenty of good snakes around here, and we're not putting up with rattlesnakes with all the people, horses and dogs around.

Sorry rattlesnakes, but you're not welcome here!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Owyhee Dirtbags



Wednesday August 24 2011

This is one gang that truly loves to wallow in dirt and mud. Naturally, the whitest horse likes to find the thickest mud hole.

When a human puts up a sprinkler on a plot of dirt on a hot day and makes you a custom mud patch, how can any rational equine resist a shower then a good roll in the mud?






Some of the horses accidentally get sprinkled on and it's enough to make them want to roll. Jose has already shown he loves sprinklers, and he loves to get good and wet.

The herd stands around taking turns, watching each other roll (unless they just can't wait their turn and have to crowd in there), scoring each other for style and dirtiness.






Jose obviously won for Best Shower-er.
[slide show here]


They all had a go at the rolling,




but Mac hands down won the Dirtiest Horse Award.








They are Owyhee Dirtbags and proud of it!



No, Rushcreek Mac has not turned into an Appaloosa!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Pestiferous



Tuesday August 23 2011

They do look rather cute and cuddly. One website fondly describes them as "sleek, soft-furred animals with big, bright, bulging black eyes." And in another place and time (like maybe a long time ago in another galaxy far, far away), one might think they'd make good pets.

But in this place in time, they are magnificent pests. They multiply like, well, rats, move in everywhere you don't want them, and you just can't get rid of them. The packrat lives in your barns and cars, under your porches and your house, in your house if he can find a way in it. They steal things for their nests and they chew through wiring in your cars. They live in between hay bales and they use them for toilets. If they were toilet trainable, they might be acceptable creatures, but they are not and they are not.

Not for nothing are they called packrats. A nest in the barn contains (from what I can get a glimpse of through a crack in the wall) the yellow trail marking ribbons (not the red ones or blue ones, and not the skinny ones, but the double wide yellow ones), a razor. Probably pieces of a broken coffee mug which I know one of them broke.

Connie lost her cell phone one day. I thought I heard it beeping around the bus once. A few days later John later opened the battery drawer, found a packrat nest stuffed in there and reached in to clean it out - and scooped out Connie's cell phone. No word yet on any suspicious charges on the bill.

One redeeming feature - if you can call it that - of the packrat, is their "midden", a debris and waste pile. Packrat urine is viscous, and once the sugars crystalize, the remaining fluid, known as amberat, eventually hardens and cements the material together. This can preserve the materials in the midden for tens of thousands of years. Scientists carbon date middens and analyze them to determine what vegetation was growing at the time they were created, and with this information, climate change over thousands of years can be determined. The unredeeming feature of the midden is it stinks and it's nasty and it can grow to be huge.

Other than that, and the bit of cuteness, when they're living under your roofs, they have no other redeeming qualities.

It's been a particularly good year for packrats around here in Owyhee - good if you're a packrat, not so much if you're the humans they've moved in with.

They aren't that easy to trap. To catch a packrat, you gotta be smarter than the packrat.

For a while there, I was. The particular colored trail ribbons and the cell phone made me think of how they love treasures, and how putting peanut butter in the trap didn't always attract a packrat before the mice ate the bait.

And so, I created treasures for the packrats. What sensible packrat could bypass a hanging golden nut (as in nut and bolt), a hanging red shiny fat Christmas ribbon, or a hanging aluminum foil handmade mobile?


I caught 5 packrats in the barn without bait and just these treasures hanging in the trap!

And when I caught one, I just couldn't kill it. The cuteness got to me just a little... those round ears, inquisitive eyes, softness, fluffy tail. Some were scared and I felt a little sorry for them; some were so tame I could poke my finger in the cage and pet them. Sigh. I couldn't drown them, I couldn't give them to the dogs. I took them far far away and turned them loose out in the world (WHERE THEY DARN WELL BELONG!), to either start a new life or feed the golden eagles and hawks and owls.

The hanging treasures no longer work consistently for catching them - - I think they're onto me and they probably found their own special treasures lying around - and still they multiply.

A packrat living outside under the house porch about drove John mad with his eluding capture for months. A gun was even fired in the dead of night once... and the packrat lived to wreak more havoc. I think he finally got trapped, but I'm sure he left plenty of family members behind.

I think the key to catching packrats is to change things up a bit. Switch from using peanut butter for bait, to hanging treasures in the trap. Put the trap in different places. You'll know their main paths - look for the most packrat poo.

I've also started to mark with spray paint the ones I've caught and turned loose; who's to say they aren't intelligent with a highly honed homing compass in their heads (like horses usually have). If I ever catch a spray painted packrat in the trap - then they're goners.

Really - they are cute, but really, they are pestiferous - and they gotta go. I wonder if the Ravens could be trained to hunt them?

I think this one died of fright from Austin gazing at it too longingly in the trap

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Give Those Cow Ponies Credit



Monday August 21 2011

We've been talking about finding a trail to ride up into the Owyhee Mountains to Burnam Flat from home. Over the years, Steph, Carol, and Regina have ridden up there at different places with some ranchers, but some of it always involved scrambling off trails up some steep slopes, and they don't exactly remember the routes. If you don't know where the gates are, you won't get through, and we tend to like to avoid cliffs.

Regina and I studied maps and Google Earth (I caught Steph's bug - it's addicting when you look at 3D images of mountains and wonder where you can go and how you can get there!), and we plotted some of the cow trails Regina rode with the Joyce Ranch cowboys as they were gathering cattle last fall. You can't always see existing roads on Google Earth (because of the forest), and you sure can't trust the accuracy of the USGS maps - sometimes they show old roads and trails that no longer exist; sometimes they don't show the newer roads that do exist. Regina has a good knowledge of the area, but a lot of that is cross country because that's how the cows go.

I drew our proposed route on the maps: up Fossil Creek and cross to Gerdie Creek where there is a road (Regina rode on it) going up the creek; up out of that drainage, over a saddle to the Sinker drainage, down and along the (? unnamed?) Southeast Fork of Sinker, turn up the South Fork of Sinker, and hit Scotch Bob Road. If we were lucky.

It was maybe 7 mountain miles in to Scotch Bob Road, so either 7 miles back out, or find another route.

Scotch Bob connects to the Silver City Road (if there are no locked gates; an old mining tunnel is being reopened, so who knew if public access was cut off); roads off Scotch Bob should eventually reach Silver City, though that would take other days of exploring.

We cheated a bit by hauling the 6 miles of boring straight bumpy rocky road up to the base of the mountains to start out on the route we we picked out.

Unloaded the horses - and realized I forgot the maps.


Well.

Regina thought she had most of the trails in her head. We wouldn't get lost, and I at least had a GPS to take waypoints if we had to navigate back somewhere, and to see later where we'd gone on the maps.


We started at the corrals on Fossil Creek. The ruins of an old cabin mark the spot of some old homesteader. Presumably someone lived there back in the days that water was flowing, because Fossil is bone dry now except for the 100-year flash-flood.


We crossed a ridge into the Gerdie drainage (eventually reaches Sinker Creek) and hit an old road that wound up into the mountains.

Quite scenic - and quite rocky. And it got rockier. Hard to believe anybody would drive on this road, but it's been done. The horses were having a hard go along half a mile of scree slope, where the rocks were the road.

It was a bit like snowshoeing without the snowshoes - step and slip back with every step, with your momentum arrested. We passed the scree slope but then the road started climbing, quite steeply. The day wasn't too hot yet but the horses were drenched in sweat by the time we reached a high point -

and still had more to climb.


Jose was panting when we reached the saddle at 5600' (we'd started out at 4100'), but it didn't stop him from noticing the spectacular view of the spread of the headwaters of the Sinker drainage. We could see Burnam Flat up there to the southeast (another 1600' up), and in the distance to the north, a little piece of the Silver City Road.


At this point, Jose, August, and Krusty the Younger were sure glad they aren't cow ponies, because Regina was pointing out an even higher ridge they'd ridden to gather cows. Her mount Mufasa (who's ridden that ridge) was nodding his head in agreement. Those cow ponies have to be tough for the amount of ground and the kind of country they sometimes cover searching for cows. And they could move fast too - Steph and I had learned that when we thought we'd be cowgirls and help a local rancher round up a bull.

We saw a lot of cows back here in the mountains, and wondered how on earth the cowboys know how to find the ones that don't want to be found.


We got off and led our horses down, down, down from the pass toward the creek below, thinking we sure didn't want to have to go back up this on the way back.

Unbelievably we saw ATV tracks on the road. Braver souls than me and Jose! We alternately rode and led down to this unnamed creek, Jose ogling the view along the way.


We came to a fork in the creek, and here's where Regina's good memory of the maps faded (mine was kind of non-existent, anyway). She thought downstream was the North Fork of Sinker and it would eventually hit Sinker Creek; but the decision on which way to go was easy, as no road or trail continued downstream, and the road continued up the other fork of the creek.

The road began showing so many ATV tracks, that we figured we had to be on Scotch Bob road. Sure enough we came to some signs of human life: campers, holes in the ground, and miners. Jerry was busy at work mining his claim for gold.


Yes, he said, we were on Scotch Bob road, there was a waterfall nearby, a road that would take us to Silver City, the Sinker Tunnel down the road, and the Silver City road 2 1/2 miles away.

We'd done it! Already we'd decided there was no way we were backtracking over what we'd done, so we set off at a trot for the Silver City road.

On the way we came across Sinker Tunnel (the Silver Falcon Mining Corp, who moved in last year to sift through tailings for traces of gold and other precious metals, is digging in the Sinker Tunnel and will work it, if it can be made safe, though we heard rumors that already they're having trouble with collapses),

and an old mining cabin still standing.


We hit the Silver City road and zipped the 4 miles down to Sinker Creek. From here we'd travelled 15 miles; it was probably at least 10 back to the trailer (it would be rocky, but not difficult, and little climbing like the last 15 miles). We considered calling Rick to come pick us up, but by the time he got to us, we'd probably be almost at the trailer. It wasn't too hot a day, so we rode back - and oh, what a trail!


Sinker Canyon is the archetypal Owyhee County canyon - rugged high-walled ryholite cliffs framing a creek (this one flows year round) - a treasure hidden in the rolling desert hills you see from the highways. Most of it is rocky creek bottom that we had to walk, but both Jose and I were gawking at the scenery anyway.
[slide show here]


Carol knew to turn up the North Fork of Sinker - this is the same trail Steph marks for the Sinker Canyon day of the Owyhee Canyonlands - and we followed our familiar old trails back to the trailer. We sure were happy we'd cheated and saved ourselves the extra 6 miles of slow riding home.

After the fantastic ride Jose was only a little tired but I was whooped. We'd ridden about 26 miles in 6 1/2 hours, a strenuous Limited Distance ride, though I felt like I'd been about 75 miles.


I'm glad I'm not a cowgirl, and Jose sure is glad he's an endurance horse and not a cow pony. Those cow ponies sure earn their oats!

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Rinker Buck Teaser



Friday August 19 2011

This is Owyhee County, where odd things sometimes happen, but it's not every day that you meet someone named Rinker Buck driving a 3-mule hitch wagon

with his brother Nick and his daughter Paper and a jack russell along the Oregon Trail from St Joseph Missouri to Pendleton Oregon who gets hit by a truck

and is still full of humor

and gives me a ride on the wagon behind the mules on an airstrip.

Do you detect a story?

You would be right, there is one coming!

***This is a re-do of my last post. Some of you mentioned not seeing the pictures - that's because the server they're on went down. It's temporary, but shows me I need to be posting my pix differently.

And I might as well fess up, the hour+ of interview I did with Rinker on my digital recorder is... gone - as in GONE. It was a crushing blow when I discovered that today. Exactly why I don't like using the damn things. Taking notes is distracting, but I would have had more than I have now! Anybody have a photographic memory for sale?

Well, he's supposed to be coming back this way after the Pendleton Roundup in September - where he plans to end his wagon journey and sell the mule team, and he hopes to be able to ride with us over the possible sites of the Utter Disaster that we ride over on the Oregon Trail in our endurance rides. He's writing a book on the Oregon Trail, hence his idea of driving a wagon along the Oregon Trail (and on it, when possible), from St Joseph, Missouri to Pendleton, Oregon.

I'll just have to interview him again! Or slip out more teasers along the way when something jogs my memory.

There will be more, soon!

Friday, August 19, 2011

Rinker Buck



Friday August 19 2011

This is Owyhee County, where odd things sometimes happen, but it's not every day that you meet someone named Rinker Buck driving a 3-mule hitch wagon

with his brother Nick and his daughter Paper and a jack russell along the Oregon Trail from St Joseph Missouri to Pendleton Oregon who gets hit by a truck

and is still full of humor

and gives me a ride on the wagon behind the mules on an airstrip.

Do you detect a story?

You would be right, there is one coming!