Dawn arrived with the crow of the rooster and the melody of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” (from the musical Oklahoma) at 6:00 am. I awoke to a layer of dew condensed on my bivy sack from the foggy night. I was sure glad that I had brought it! After feeding the horses, and a cup of coffee by the campfire we headed down to main camp for breakfast buffet of hash browns, cereal, fruit, yogurt, sausage, ham, bacon eggs cooked to order, coffee, milk and orange juice. Bloody Mary’s and gin fizzes were available to those who needed an eye-opener.
As I saddled my horse “Shorty”, I noticed that the activity around camp had elevated his alertness and he was pretty wired from the hustle and bustle as 300 horses and riders prepared for the first day’s ride. I spent a good 30 minutes lunging him in a circle to try to get his antics and mischevious ways out of his system before we hit the trail.
We rode South out of camp a mixture of wagons and riders. I let Shorty find his pace and we weaved our way through traffic on our way to lunch camp. His ground eating walk was preferable to the “jigging” that he would do if I tried to check his pace.
Lunch camp was a small opening with the remains of a loading chute and corral. The portable bar arrived shortly after we did, and the rough and tumble festivities commenced. A common first day occurance is for the rowdies to grab ahold of the unsuspecting victims pocket and rip it off. Usually a good natured wrestling match ensues until one of the combatants “taps out”. Ah, the games cowboys play.
As I made my way to the bar for a gin and tonic, I could see the sharks circling, eyeing my Cinch shirt. It’s pocket had been mended from year’s prior activities. Finally a Willits cowboy by the name of Mike Persico (remember his name folks) couldn’t stand the suspense and grabbed ahold of it. I immediately latched on to his wrist and the dust began to rise. Shortly I had Mike on the ground shouting “Enough!” Laughing, I gave him a hand up and he slapped me on the back as we bellied up to the bar. My wrestling skills weren’t enough to save my pocket though as the previous repair held so well, the material around the pocket all ripped rendering it into a rag. Remember folks, this is all in good sport. I knew what I was getting into.
After a lunch of cold fried chicken, beans and coleslaw, we rode back to camp along the shady tree covered logging roads. I enjoyed the sights and sounds of trace chains jingling, wagon wheels creaking and the rythmic sounds of hoofbeats on the well packed road.
That Night we enjoyed Hor d’oevres prepared by the outlying camps including grilled duck breast, Venison, and Rocky Mountain Oysters. I barely had room for dinner that night including clam chowder, Pot Roast, Mashed Potatoes, and vegetables. One thing is for sure, the food was fantastic!
I drifted off to sleep dreaming of the meals to come, as the fog rolled in.
