– Wild Moments I Haven’t Shared Until Now –

I returned to Middle Fork Outfitters in May 2015 to help Ron prepare for the fall hunting season. He was already at Simplot irrigating the pastures, provisioning the ranch, and getting the stock used to working again. A pile of gear and supplies awaited my arrival at the B-C Ranch; I was to sort it into loads & manti it, then load it onto a string of mules and pack into the backcountry.

It was a normal job for an experienced hand, but I’d been working as a packer for less than ten months at the time. Five of those were spent sitting on the couch in Texas. I was well-trained and smart enough, but it took lots of practice to be a quick and capable packer. And a packer needed to be quick and capable when trailing a dozen rowdy thousand-pound animals high above the river.

Trail Tension

I apprenticed with Ron the year before, then worked a season at the Flying B Ranch… stayed on as caretaker for the winter, then back to Texas until Ron called. I worked with stock during the winter at The B but did not practice my packing skills. Then my hard-ass boss expected me to jump right back in where we left off in training.

I got up at five the morning after completing the three-day drive from Texas… tried to eat breakfast, but felt tight in my stomach and couldn’t get much down. It took a couple hours to saddle all the stock, pack up the gear and load the string; I had plenty of time. The objective was to leave early enough to get to Simplot before dark. 5 miles to Camas, 15 to the Middle Fork, another 8 to Loon Creek: it was 28 miles into the largest wilderness in America. Ten hours in the saddle.

Expect It to Be Hard

No matter how good a packer you might be, wrecks on those isolated trails were unavoidable. Bees might swarm… a rock might roll down the hill… a breeze might blow my hat off and startle one of the mules; shit happens in the wilderness. One horse or mule freaks out and the others tend to follow. Saddles and gear go flying and sometimes the animals tumble down the slope. It’s always scary and can be fatal. And that was on my mind as I led the string down Camas Creek in the early light of day.

I had a peanut butter sandwich, a banana, and some raisins in my saddle bags but couldn’t eat. And the longer I went without eating, the tighter my stomach; then my blood sugar took a tumble. I didn’t know that’s what happened until much later in that miserable day. But halfway to the ranch, nausea forced me out of the saddle and down into the dirt.

Fortunately, I was riding Pete; a blue roan that was calm as Sunday morning. I knelt down on the trail in front of him with the reins in my hand and surrendered to the spasms. They were merciless… emptied me and left me dripping cold sweat and shaking. And it happened again, and again, every hour or so for the last third of the ride. It was a minor miracle that the string didn’t spook.

Necessary Change

Ron knew when I arrived that I was in real bad shape. The other packer took the string to the corral to unload. Ron asked me what happened, then poured a glass of orange juice.

“You ain’t 30 anymore, Taylor. You’re twice that at least,” he said. “You need to eat… goddamit.”

The orange juice didn’t get a chance to sort me out; I puked it up before he finished his sentence. With surprising calm for such a hot-headed hand, he fetched a couple plums from the kitchen.

“Chew these,” he said. “Masticate. You understand? Let the juice work its way into your system.”

I laughed at that great big word… laughed through the sweat and tremors. I was so weak for (what seemed) no good reason; pretty much helpless, really. But I wasn’t sick; in fact, strong and healthy for my age. As soon as the sugar got into my bloodstream, my recovery was quick and complete. Easy to forget that I felt like dying a half hour ago. But I did not forget the lesson from that day:

I could still adventure, but my approach had to change.

Change is Good

Nothing dramatic, but an unavoidable truth. I’d never had a big appetite. It was a source of amusement among my friends; the big guy that eats small meals. Hiking with minimal provisions had become an obsession a few years earlier (during long-distance solo treks). Small portions of the same things; food was secondary. My young-mindedness and enthusiasm always provided an endless source of energy for my adventures. But on that day on that trail in the remote wilderness, I learned that 60-year old guys have to eat.

I was lucky to emerge from the lesson unscathed. The stock could easily have been spooked by my behaviour on the trail and broke loose to scatter along the river. Some could have tumbled down the steep slope to the water and drowned. Avoidable consequences of poor judgement and – since I would continue to experiment with adventure in my life – I had to change my approach.

Experiment with Your Life

One of my quirks is the objectivity with which I view my life. I’m able to mode off Subjectivity. Make observations about my actions or habits… run some tests. Get a baseline and make adjustments; just one thing at a time. Make notes.

I like to think of it as conducting experiments… charting little changes to see what happens, organizing data into Information. Sometimes I make a project of it. Sometimes I experiment with my life; not life-and-death stuff, but my way of life. My way of living: the way I experience the days I have on this earth.

Like that summer at Simplot; it was more wonderful than anticipated. A unique chapter in the story of my life and one I’m happy to have chanced. Not without difficulty, not without strife, but time rusts away all the bad stuff. I knew all along that the backcountry lifestyle was not a career for me, but was thrilled at being able to conduct that experiment with my life. To see for myself, to learn through experience what it was like to live in the wild.

It reinforced a lesson I’ve learned many times; it’s okay to start again. Its always good to take what you’ve learned and leverage it for more growth. Experiment with your life; observe, make changes, and learn from them. Just when I think I’ve reached a new level of understanding or competence, I see new and exciting horizons. And that’s usually where I find more adventure. I’m pretty sure that holds true for everybody.

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