Be prepared

All of my life I have believed that being properly prepared, for whatever one’s objective, was key to success in life, however, this is about failure to prepare. I had been invited to go on an elk hunting trip in the mountains of Colorado. The idea held significant appeal as the mountains are beautiful any time of the year, however, since elk season is in the late fall, I could envision some potential challenges in the endeavor. The people I was to go with were going to drive up to the base camp the day before I could, therefore I had to plan to go alone and meet them. A five hour drive. There was a good possibility that there would be snow and ice and I didn’t have a four wheel drive truck. I wanted to take two horses but had no experience in properly packing (diamond hitch, etc.) a horse. I had no trailer for the horses. I had done a fair amount of camping over the years but had no experience with winter camping. I also had no experience with elk hunting. I had read a fair amount about all of the above and with what I thought of as an indefatigable spirit and a perhaps undeserved confidence in my ability to overcome the challenges of the proposed trip, I set out to meet the challenge.

First on my list was a four wheel drive truck. I arranged to borrow a truck but it was not available until the day I was planning to leave, therefore I wasn’t able to go to get the trailer I had also arranged to borrow ahead of time. (Note to self: beware of borrowed equipment) So, on the day of, starting early, I drove ten miles to get the truck and another twenty miles to get the trailer. I had intended, with permission from the owner of the truck, to install a receiver on the truck as I had an adjustable height hitch to put into the receiver which would compensate for the height of the tongue of the trailer and, because I had to get the truck and then go another twenty miles to get the trailer, I took the tools I would need to install the hitch with me and intended to install the hitch when I got to the ranch where resided the trailer. I crawled under the truck and determined that I would have to remove the spare tire in order to install the hitch. No problem, key on the key ring for the lock securing the spare. Problem, the lock was so rusted that I could not remove it. I decided to hitch up the trailer on the bumper hitch, which was too high to use that way with a load but would suffice to haul it home where I had an acetylene torch with which I could cut off the lock. I backed up to the trailer, no problem. Problem, the jack on the trailer tongue was broken. Ok, I thought, I have a jack in the truck, I can handle this. Drat, my jack wouldn’t go high enough to clear the hitch ball. Had to find something to stack up to hold the tongue up, then let the jack down, find some more lumber to put the jack on so that I could clear the ball. Finally, finally, I got the trailer hitched. Ready to go. Ugh, trailer light wiring was a mess, the running lights and brake lights didn’t work, and the connector didn’t match that which was on the truck. So, on the way home with the trailer, I had to take a detour to an auto parts store to get wire and connector adapters. If I am nothing else, I am determined and resourceful. All of the aforementioned took a substantial amount of time, not to mention the time required, once home, to rewire the trailer, cut off the padlock, install the receiver hitch, load my gear and horses, and finally get on the road. I took great satisfaction in that I had not allowed the obstacles to defeat me but was now on the road so late that I knew that I would be arriving at the base camp well after dark.

After several hours driving, as I approached the first mountain pass I would have to go over, it started to snow. As an aside, for those who may not know, it is inadvisable, dangerous, a really bad idea, to attempt to drive in the mountains, in the snow and/or ice, four wheel drive notwithstanding, hauling a loaded trailer, without chains. Driving with chains meant that my travel time would be, at the very least, doubled. Fortunately, I was able to find a restaurant with a large enough parking lot where I would be able to chain up and get a meal, preparatory to a long slog up into the mountains. Later, while driving over several mountain passes, nothing untoward happened, though I have to admit, there were a couple times I thought that perhaps I should have chained all four wheels rather than two. When I finally arrived at the base camp, with heavy snowfall and about a foot accumulated, expecting to find my friends, what I did find was a deserted base camp, with a wall tent and a corral for my horses, and a note that they had decided to go on to the upper camp before the snow got worse and that I could meet them in the upper camp the next day. I fed and watered my horses, lit a lantern, made coffee, checked my gear and my attitude, and crawled into my sleeping bag.

When I awoke, the sun was shining and it was a beautiful winter day. Cold, maybe twenty degrees but no wind, and I anticipated that I had prevailed, overcome the obstacles, and was looking forward to a few days in the incredible mountains of Colorado. Little did I know that my failure to check every detail was to come back and bite me yet again. Of my two horses, one was large, young, and well-muscled. The other, older and smaller, but well mannered, with a willing spirit. I packed my gear on the smaller horse and saddled the larger one. I had anticipated wearing my western cowboy boots but, due to the cold and snow, opted for my warmer (new) hunting boots, which I had also worn during the drive to the mountains. When I attempted to mount up, I discovered that my hunting boots were a snug fit in the stirrups and I was concerned that if for any reason I had to dismount in a hurry, having a boot stuck in the stirrup would not be a good thing. I went to the truck to get my riding boots and discovered that I had forgotten to bring them, left them home. Oh, the folly of it all. Since the smaller horse was better trained and less likely to act up or spook at something, I decided to change my saddle to her and the packed gear to the larger horse and hope for the best. I couldn’t let a little thing like tight stirrups interfere with my adventure, could I. One might note that what started as a few casual days with my friends had somehow evolved to a grand adventure, pitting myself, my brain and my spirit, against the forces of evil which seemed to have amassed against me.

As I rode up the trail, a new issue became evident. The younger larger horse, which I was now using to pack my gear, was used to being the leader, didn’t like following, and kept trying to go around. She crashed through brush, ran into trees beside the trail, jumped over boulders, plunged through belly deep snow, and basically ran amok. I repeatedly had to dismount, get her sorted out and back in line, and vent a few words and thoughts not suitable to print herein. About an hour up the trail, she tried once again to take the lead but in doing so, wedged between two trees which were not far enough apart for her to fit without force, and force she did. She managed to get through but, in doing so broke the pack saddle which then slipped around under her belly, which totally spooked her and she ran off across the side of the mountain, bucking and kicking. When she finally settled, she had managed to spread my gear across the better part of a quarter acre of mountainside, breaking my camp stove and lantern, ripping my sleeping bag and tent into shreds, puncturing and smashing my food and coffee containers, and making it all beyond salvage. At this point, one might surmise that I was more than a little frustrated and seriously evaluating whether I was having fun yet. Each time I got close to her, attempting to grab her lead rope, she would take off running again. Since my gear was destroyed, I had two choices. Pack it in and call it a bad go or go back to the base camp, drive down off the mountain to buy new gear, and give it another go. I mounted up, deciding that if the other horse saw me leaving she would probably follow, which she did, and rode down off the mountain.

Dear reader, I will leave it for you to decide. Did I give it up or give it another go. I’ll give you a hint. Don’t leave home without it.

Note: as this is my first attempt at creative writing, I welcome critique but, please be gentle.

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