An Unwanted Cattle Drive

October 20th

Another morning where I subconsciously do not want to get up and somehow push my watch deep into my sleeping quilt so I cannot hear the alarm.  I must be killing the battery doing this.  Still, I am up and going in the dark with the moon almost straight overhead.  Within the first 200 feet on the road, I startle a small group of cattle.  I think I came up on them so fast and the headlamp blinded them because they just stood and stared.

The grassy area was vast.  Probably 2 miles wide and 1 1/2 miles long.  I was following a road that went almost the full length.  I turned off the headlamp and enjoyed the moonlight walk in the brisk air.  On my right, I woke up a small herd of cattle, perhaps 30 total.  The fastest ones got up at the sound of my approach.  They chose their bravests and smartest leader and formed a herd to escape the terrible danger I presented.  She was a good choice for a leader.  Vocal, to give directions and encouragement.  Strong, to sustain a stampede as long as necessary.  Observant, able to keep an eye on the threat.  Unfortunately, she was still just a cow.  So she led a stampeded in the dark of about 15 cows and calfs.  They ran parallel to me for at lest 15 minutes.   Not perpendicular and away.  Not diagonally and away.  And, no, not the opposite direction and away.  Instead, she led them on a half mile run right next to the danger source.  This domesticated stupidity was only topped by the second half of the herd, about 100 feet behind the first half, which had  a clear view of me and the folly of the lead group, but instead chose to follow the herd rather than simply stop and be free from danger.  I just stopped and waited for 15 minutes while the herd wandered away.

I climbed steadily after that and again entered high ponderosa forest.  It was all road walking.  I pulled my standard road walk stunt and missed a turn adding an unnecessary 1 1/2 miles each way detour.

The land then turned to pure seasonal grassland.  Since this was not the season, it was a scratchy brown carpet of dried grass for miles.  Eventually the trail drops into a canyon and follows that providing some interest.

Eventually, I reach Snow Lake.  It is a man made dam with a good sized lake.  To me, the good news was the campground that had well water.  I had a great break there and drank tons of water even though I knew I would soon be dropping down to the Gila (pronounced hee lah) River.  The only  bad part was the name of the campground:  dipping vat.  Nowadays, it seems innocuous, but I believe the term is used to describe a water body into which a ton of chemicals were added and the herds driven through to combat infestations.  Mmm, enjoyed that water.

 

I went past the dam and dropped down into the canyon.  It was about 4:00 and I knew night would come early,  these are steep river canyons and the Gila is famous as a home to people for thousands of years.  After about an hour I realized I should let Helen know my satellite device will not work in canyons this steep.  I was right. My messages did not go through, no matter how wide the canyon.

I crossed the river about 5 times.  It was obvious that earlier in the year a significant rainfall had occurred.  All plants within 5 feet of either side was still bent over.  The only tread I could see was a pair of horse hoof prints.  I got twisted around a couple time, but the great thing about rivers is that getting back on track is pretty easy.

I finally found a wide flat spot elevated from the river.  The river was about 10 to 15 feet wide and mostly shin deep.  Still, I like to sleep up and away to avoid the sound and the cold valley draft.  I camped next to an abandoned fence and I think the area may have burned. I built a small fire that night and was impressed with how long the old juniper fence posts burned.  It was like oak.  There was no point trying to dry my shoes and socks over the small fire.  I know two things from experience:  1) they are more likely to burn than dry over a fire and 2) tomorrow they will get wet again.

So, I took my shriveled white feet and got in to my tent and went to sleep a little later than normal.  I was not looking forward to cold wet shoes in the morning.