Arizona; Mountain biking and Hiking in the Huachucas

“I’m drawn to open country; it’s where everything becomes clear; where the world makes the most sense. When I put myself out there I always return with something new. A friend once told me that the best journeys answer questions that in the beginning you never even thought to ask.”
“Jeff Johnson” 180 South
 
CHRISTMAS eve 2008; I had planned on spending a lazy day cooking and watching movies then turn in early since I have no wife, girlfriend, kids or family to speak of.
But my adventurous spirit got the better of me and I grabbed my mountain bike & survival gear (camel back HAWG) and Lit out for the Huachuca Mountains abt 10 miles away.
It is a tough ride and uphill all the way from my apartment, I managed to make it into the foothills in about 1 1/2 hours. I was battling wind and rain, and I could see that there was a lot of snow coming down in the higher peaks so I made the decision to set up camp in Brown canyon.
It took me a few minutes to set up my cheap walmart tent, then rig my plastic tarp over it for additional protection.
I grabbed my gear and threw it into the tent, then it was just a matter of riding out the weather.
The gear I had on my bike consisted of tent, plastic sheeting, army goretex bivvy bag, slumberjack summer bag, crazy creek chair, my cook set, 4 knives my trusty old Green river knife named “old butch”, my Case hobo, a Swiss army knife with a saw, and my old timer whittling knife.
Type 1 and type 5 nylon(parachute cord’s). 1 gallon of water, camera, a light wind suit, extra socks, gloves, beanie cap, ball cap and other misc gear. my food consisted of 3 cans of sardines, instant coffee, sky flake crackers, animal crackers, thai style instant tea, and some candies.
darkness fell pretty quickly so I crawled into my sleeping bag and settled in for the night. I laid there in my sleeping bag listening to the rain hitting my tent and singing Christmas carols to myself.
During the night i could hear several Javalina moving around in the dark and heard the hoot of some owls, I noticed in the morning that a pack rat had stolen the lid to my travel mug.
It turned out to be a rainy, cold and windy night, I stayed in my bag until 1st light then got up to a cloudy Christmas morning.
The time was only about 7 am and since it was not raining I wanted to make some coffee before heading down the mountain. I kindled a small fire from oak and juniper wood using my bic lighter.
sitting in my crazy creek chair I filled my old army canteen cup with water and sat it on the coals to boil.
It was somewhat refreshing to be out in the cold air. I sat there watching wilderness TV(the fire) while the water boiled and munched a few animal crackers for breakfast.
I had done a lot of thinking during the night about Christmases in the past, I came to my own conclusion that it is all and illusion, and created by merchants to sell products.
The necessity people feel to buy and celebrate a false holiday never ceases to amaze me.
I would much rather be sitting alone near a small fire in the beautiful mountains then to be in a house full of people I don’t really like or get along with, celebrating a false holiday – just my opinion.
By and by the water boiled and I made myself a full canteen cup or Folgers brand(my personal favorite) instant coffee, ate some animal crackers.
While dining in regal splendor there in the mountain I decided to stay over another night, I still had a little food and plenty of coffee. The only problem was water but I knew where to get that up the trail.
I packed my gear, then locked my bike and hid it in the woods, cached my tent in another area then headed up the trail.
My intention was to go to a spring I knew of and top off my water bottles, do a quick scout around then return to my camp area before dark. As I hiked along I began to see a lot of illegal alien signs, i.e. cast off clothing, candy wrappers, sardine cans etc.
Since I was low on food I made a quick scout around to see if I could locate a “Lay up site” and recover some canned food from the back packs the illegals throw away.
As luck would have it I located a small lay up site and was able to recover 2 cans of re fried beans, and 2 cans of tuna con vertudes(vegetables), a good score!
I stuffed the cans into my pack then continued my hike up to the spring.
Upon arrival at the spring i did as planned, topped off all of my water bottles then hid all but 1 of them.
I emptied out my pack and hid the contents of it along with the water bottles. Taking only food, water, and my bivvy sack I headed up the trail to Carr Peak. There was a bit of snow on the ground but the trail was clear.
Along the way i saw a flock of turkeys(10 i think), they were difficult to count due to their moving around. I also spotted several sonoran Coues deer, and saw plenty of javalina and Bear sign.
Since I had left Camp at about 8am I intended to hike 4 to 5 hours up the trail then turn around and head back to camp so that I would have plenty of light to do so.
It was great to be on the trail and seeing all of the different wild life, the temperature was slightly cool with a biting breeze, I loved it!
I made it all the way to the top of Carr peak 9000 plus feet, but was a little off of my allotted time schedule.
I decided to run back down the mountain to where I had stashed my water and pack contents. Stripping down to my hoody, shoes and pants, I stuffed my wind suit and other clothes in my pack then began my jogging decent.
It was a fairly easy jog down the mountain, I got to the gear stash, recovered my gear and water, then walked the remainder of the trail back to camp as a cool down.
My feet were a little sore By the time I got to camp, I left my bike hidden in the woods but recovered my tent , after pitching it and the rain tarp I again kindled a fire to boil water for coffee.
I remembered the cans of food I had recovered and made the choice to eat tuna and crackers for dinner, washed down with stout black coffee – It was a culinary delite! I finished off the meal with some hard candies for desert.
Thinking abt it I realized that I was eating an international meal – Mexican style tuna, Filipino crackers, american coffee and korean candies. Almost like dining in a 5 star restaurant!
Needles to say i was a little tired that night so I took a swig or two from my whisky flask then crawled into my sleeping bag, I do not remember anything from that night because I slept very soundly.
Early the next morning I got up, mixed instant coffee in my nalgene bottle , drank it cold, packed my gear and headed for home.
It was a good two nights in the woods and great way to spend a “holiday” weekend, I enjoyed it very much.

_____

Montana ; Art the spaghetti eating mule

Man! I love spaghetti, I love it in restaurants, I love it home cooked or out of a can, but mostly, I love it cooked in the wilderness. When I a Senior Instructor for a wilderness school in Utah, my field partner Sean “Pog” Kendrigan and me would order spaghetti as our Instructor “Solo” meal when we put the students out on their 72 hour solos.

We would add salt pork or bacon to the mix, hot sauce etc. then chow down, afterward we would smoke a few cigarettes. It was good to be King.

Later in my wilderness career I was employed for several years as a packer and wrangler for a big game hunting outfit in Montana. I worked with a string of 17 mules. One, was a huge draft mule named “Art” he was about 18 hands high, well-muscled, broke to ride or pack, he was a complete scamp and piratical scallywag. And unknown to me, a spaghetti aficionado.

One of my initial introductions to Art was when my boss and me were hauling grain and hay to our hunting camp in the Bob Marshall wilderness in Montana. It was an 8 hour ride from the trail head near Seeley Lake to camp in “The Bob”.

After a long hard ride in the Heat and blistering sun, we were ready to cook a good meal. After caring for the pack and riding stock, we cooked up a huge pot of spaghetti with plenty of extras in it like onions, meat, carrots, garlic, etc…It was looking good and ready to eat. My partner and I sat the pot on the ground next to the fire, then went to the creek to wash our bowls. As we cleared the bank heading back I could see Ol’ Art with his nose in our spaghetti pot! I yelled at him and he ignored me until we got closer. He raised his head ,still chewing with the dregs of our spaghetti dinner waiving in the breeze…I swear he gave me a wink, as if to say “thanks” then hobbled his way out of camp……I peeked into the now empty pot and it was clean as a whistle! It looked like it had never been used. We ended up eating canned stew and having a good laugh at the lesson we were handed by a savvy old trail mule. I had no idea the Mules or horses could or would eat people food.

I came across a reference to equines surviving and thriving on people foods in the book “Scouting on to continents” by Major Frederick R. Burnham. In his book Maj Burnham states;
 “A scout knows that a horse can thrive on most of the food that a man eats, even cooked food. One of the reasons why I was sometimes able to outride the cowboys and frontiersmen of the west was that I gave infinite care to my mount. In Alaska and the Klondike our horses would eat bread, all kinds of dried fruit and vegetables, crackers, sugar , prunes, raisins, candy, syrup – even bacon, dried meat and dried fish in very small quantities. They also ate raw eggs when obtainable, dried milk, and other things not ordinarily thought of as fodder. The twig ends cut from willow and cottonwood give roughage and some strength. In the deserts a man may save his mount by gathering the fig like fruits from the top of the pitahaya or suhauro. The “Spanish bayonet” also has a good fruit. Horses will eat crushed mesquite beans, acorns soaked and ground, and other desert shrubs and seeds in season. There are bunches of gramma and other grasses clinging to the cliffs that can be gathered for the Scouts faithful friend in time of need.”

I find this to be interesting and valuable information. I can personally attest to Ol’ Art’s love for spaghetti and my saddle mule Arlene’s love for Granola bars, breath mints, and red man chewing tobacco. I have also seen them eat the food packed in the stock dogs, and kitchen scraps like potato peels, carrot tops, onions and other things. This is some good knowledge to keep in your back pocket in the event you find yourself in a world where horses and Mules are the norm.

____

Thailand; The tiger?

“The Tiger”
While exploring a side canyon in Arizonas Huachuca mountains a while back, I caught a glimpse of a fawn colored wraith slipping away into the forest. There was an unmistakable feline smell in the air. This glimpse of a Mountain Lion reminded me of a conversation I had recently with a Biologist on Fort Huachuca about the Big cat sightings on post in recent years. There Have been Jaguar sightings in the Pelloncillos, Chiricahuas and the Huachucas, 5 Oscelot sightings in the Huachucas, and Jagarundi sightings in SW Arizona. Then in turn, This conversation reminded me of an experience I had with a Big Cat in Thailand. It could only be one of 2 types of big cat – a Leopard or a Tiger.
A few years back, one of my lady friends in Thailand invited me to go with her to Kaijang krachang National park. This park is about 3 hours south west of Bangkok. We hopped into a van taxi and cruised down to the park and set up camp. The next morning I suggested that we hitch hike up to the top of the road where the real jungle is. We packed our gear and headed out. It was my friends first time hitch hiking and she got a real kick out of it, and was amazed that you could get so far in one day by thumbing a ride.
I due time, we arrived at the area in the park where the real triple canopy jungle is located. The was a designated community camping area there so we rented a tent spot for the next couple of nights.We set up our tent, the later That afternoon we were looking around for something to do. It was getting dark so we just wandered the trails near the camp ground, and were later invited to some peoples camp for dinner.
While eating dinner with our new friends one of them suggested that we hike down to some popular water falls and get some pictures of the falls and local plant life and perhaps see some horn bills.
It sounded great to me but my friend decided that she didn’t want to walk that far just to see some flowers and water falls. So, early the next morning, I packed my hammock, silk sheet, a gallon of water, some munchies, my head lamp, camera,binoculars,jungle knife and a few other things then hit the trail. (And Im sure a few things I have forgotten).
Anyhoo, early the next AM, I hit the trail and began the steep decent toward the falls. It was nice and cool in the mist of the early morning jungle. I got to see 3 horn bills  and numerous snakes and small birds along the trail. The leeches were out in force and I had to stop from time to time during my hike  to scrape them off.
It soon became hot and humid and the decent was very steep so I took a break and polished off the coffee in my Nalgene bottle , burned off a few leeches then hit the trail again.
The falls were pretty but not what I expected from the way folks talked about them, the forest though was  REAL jungle , similar to the types I have seen in the Philippine Islands, and south America. But, these woods had a lot more leeches and skeeters than I had experienced before.
I fooled around and tried to take some pictures, but my camera batteries were dead and the old girl didn’t seem to want to function in the humidity. I got my camera at a pawn shop on Mindenao in the PI about 4 years prior, so Im surprised it worked up to that time.
Being in the jungle, I have always been surprised as to how fast it gets dark under the canopy . My Atea Negrito friends at Subic bay, always wear their head lamps so they will be ready for darkness. A good Idea. I realized that I wouldn’t be able to hike the 4K up hill before full dark so I began to look for a place to set up my hammock.
I found a decent spot and slung the hammock between some hardwoods, on the edge of a fairly large bamboo grove, cut some dry bamboo and collected what “Squaw wood” I could find for making a fire later.
Basically Im pretty Lazy when it comes to fire, Fire needs fuel, fuel means making an effort to find it, and that means burning up calories and energy. But, I did collect some wood, and about dark , kindled a flame, heated some water for tea, ate some of my munchies, messed around trying to get my camera to work, swatted Mosquitos, burned leeches and generally had a good time in my remote solitude.
Long story short – I crawled into my hammock and tried to sleep. I did drift in and out ,but the Jungle sounds kept waking me up. I heard what sounded like Deer snorting in the forest, things crashing into the trees, bugs, the creek and squeaking of the bamboo etc.
Sometime during the night I awoke to what smelled like a cat, it was a very distinct smell, soon after that I heard a low deep low rumbling growl which scared me to no end, followed immediately by a Hiss or a breathy Haaaaaaaa, similar to what a house cat makes when cornered by the family dog. I was afraid and didn’t know what to do, I had my jungle knife hanging from the guy line inside of my hammock and grabbed that. Funny – it was in a metal scabbard which rattled and was a bit annoying but I never bothered to fix it, perhaps it was a good thing I didn’t fix it.
Anyway, this rattling noise combined with my yelling was enough to chase off this critter. My idea is that this big cat smelled a human, Saw me in my hammock, but had never seen this form before and didn’t know how to attack or react. Whatever, Im just glad it left the area. I can honestly say that this was the most scared I have ever been in a wild place. It was a combination of the sounds the big cat made, the darkness, the remote location, and knowing I was the only person around there for many miles.
I thank God for what ever reason the Cat took off. I got back in the hammock and lay there for a few moments listening……Then, I scrambled out with my head lamp on, and rebuilt my fire. I wished that my laziness had not got the best of me earlier and that I would have collected more wood…Lesson learned.
I made as much noise as possible by singing songs , army cadences, and chopping on the bamboo to find fuel. Also I had read that most big cats attack from the rear so I kept my Back to the Bamboo thicket and kept up my vigil until dawn.
I packed my gear, and hit the trail at first light. It was a tough hike back up the trail, but, Seeing the trailhead sign was a welcome sight. From the trailhead, I still had a bit of a hike back to the National park campground. As luck would Have it my lady friend had shanghaied a dude to drive to the trail head to look for me.
After chucking my pack into the back of his pick up truck, I climbed in to the cab with my friends and had a leisurely ride back to the camp grounds where I had a decent meal and a shower then slept like Rumple Stiltskin for most of the day.
This experience was just one of many on my sojourn into the unknown. I hope to experience many more things on the trail, in wilderness areas around the world. But, I doubt that Ill ever go alone into any Jungle in South East Asia again.

______

Cambodia ; The old man and his canoe

The Old man in a Canoe
One Saturday morning in Siem Reap , Cambodia, I woke up early with a massive head ache /hangover combination. I swallowed a fist full of aspirin,and sat on the edge of my bed sipping ice water. The single small fan in my room was doing little to cool me off in the oppressive humidity. So, I got dressed and walked to the local coffee shop. Buying a cup to go,I headed up the trail/road along the Tonle Sap river toward a wooded area I knew about.

My intention was to walk off the hangover then head back to my apartment for a long nap. I sipped the coffee as I walked along, wishing I had not drank sooo much mehkong “whisky” the night before. The stuff is cheap in Cambodia and sells for around .75 cents a 5th. It is a good inexpensive source for getting roaring drunk when you are on a tight budget.

There is actually 2 varieties to be found in Cambodia or SE Asia proper. One is the super cheap Cambodian made stuff (my personal favorite) and the 2nd is the newly retrofitted Mehkong whisky made in Thailand. It is a bit more expensive, but higher quality.

I finished my coffee and tossed the paper cup along the road – like all of the locals do – and walked a bit further. I spied a giant banyan tree, the shade was inviting, as was the grass below it. The humidity was terrible, and combined with my head ache and general hangover, I felt like I had been eaten by a wolf and shit off a 200 foot cliff. I sat down in the grass, and immediately laid back, the dew on the grass soaked through my shirt and cooled me off. There was a breeze coming off the river. I closed my eyes and was about to drift off to sleep when I heard the unmistakable dip, pull, gurgle, dip , pull, gurgle of a canoe paddle.

I propped myself up on one elbow and saw an old man wearing shorts, and a conical hat squatting in the bow of his canoe. He was paddling down stream at a steady pace. Every 3rd stroke was a modified cross bow draw to keep his canoe straight. It was cool to see how easy this old guy moved along. I noticed in the back of his canoe there was a bundle of bamboo fishing poles , a basket of fish and a lantern. This old cat must have been on the river all night trying to earn a living. Now, he was either heading home, or heading to the market to sell his catch.

I watched him paddle out of sight.I regret that I didn’t have a camera with me to get a picture. I laid back down and tried to sleep. It wouldn’t come. I laid there under the banyan tree thinking about Canoe trips I had made in the past, and of my friends at the jack mountain wilderness school in Maine.

________

1983 Canoe trip[

 “1983 Canoe trip”I can hardly believe that this was 35 years ago……. April 1983 and I had just completed what I considered was enough of my college education; I hopped on a bus in Prescott, Arizona for Chicago. The idea was to head there and work for my brother in law as a carpet installer. I arrived in Chi-town safely and worked for a while with my bro in law but, well, people and things being what they are the Job didn’t work out for me so I decided to take a river trip.
I had read a story or two about river travelers and I think it was called “ultimate canoe challenge”, which inspired me most.
I purchased a Kit from the Folbot company (http://www.folbot.com/) and put the thing together in my sisters back yard. I can’t remember exactly but it took me 5 days or so to assemble the boat.
My brother Arthur loaded me, my boat and all of my gear into his station wagon and drove me to the Fox river near Aurora, Illinois.  Art pushed my boat from shore he shouted “I wish I was going with ya”, Had I known that in later years he would not be able to enjoy the outdoors, I would have made an effort to have him come with me, on at least part of the trip.
My brother and me shared many hunting, fishing and camping adventures over the years . I can with out a doubt credit him and my brother Dale with teaching me about the value of freedom,to appreciate nature,  and to never assume.
My decent of the 3 rivers Began around the end of April 1983 at about 2 pm. I paddled down the Fox until it began to get dark then beached my boat on small island and set up camp.
I built a small fire on the up stream end of the island, made coffee and some grub, then took in the setting sun and the subsequent stars. In the gathering twilight I can remember listening to the maple and cottonwood leaves dance on the breeze and watched the night hawks and bats swoop and dive above the river catching insects.
It was an interesting and fun evening, I was alone but not lonely, content and at peace. I mean, after all I had myself for company.
The next leg of my journey down the Fox river took me to a Dam near Sheridan, Il it is near the confluence of the fox and Illinois rivers, and just upstream from “Starved rock” state park. I portaged myself and my gear around the lock and dam then proceeded downstream.
Upon entering the Illinois river I noticed it was a beautiful and enjoyable to paddle. I had a bit of a surprise though when I saw a dead Pig floating in the river, at first glance, I thought it was a person. I was relieved to see it was porcine.
My camp was again on an Island in the river, after setting up my tent and “grubbing up” ,I noticed something interesting, there were several Owls which began to serenade me with their hoots and calls. These birds kept it up for quite a while and I was glad for their company.
I made myself busy by setting out all of my wet gear to dry overnight. It was a somewhat feeble effort due to the humidity of summer. The Midwestern USA, in summer has some of the worst humidity I have ever experienced, right on par with places like Singapore, Qatar, or the Philippines.
Over the next few days I slowly paddled my way down to the Peoria dam near Pekin,Il. I ditched my boat in the weeds and hiked to my sisters house in Mapleton,Il about 5 or 6 miles up the trail.
My brother in law brought me back down to the river and we got my folbot loaded into his pick up. I spent the next few day exploring the historic areas around central Illinois. I visited fort creve coer, Cahokia mounds, and Dickson mounds.
I also took the time to attend a family reunion and do some fishing with my favorite brother in law Jerry. He is a good guy but never understood his attraction to my sister – to each his own I guess!
After a few days among family, I was feeling restless, so, Jerry and I loaded my boat and gear back into the pickup and he drove me back down to the river south of the Peoria dam. I can’t remember the name of the park but the area is pretty with lots of lakes and ponds.
Thinking back on it I didn’t paddle too far that day because I found a cool island, and actually spent 2 days camping out there and gorging myself on the food Jerry insisted I take along. Living was easy and I was not pressed for time so I just enjoyed my environment and my solitary freedom.
Eventually I headed out, there was a sudden storm one day where I was forced to beach my boat and throw up a tarp quickly to shelter from the storm, the water was a bit rough and I was not interested in getting struck by lightning, it was my 1st camp on the bank of the river.
After the storm while I was setting up camp a guy in a power boat came up and asked me if all was OK, I explained what I was doing and he seemed interested then passed me some Busch bavarian beer (a local favorite), and some canned food.
I gratefully accepted his gifts and was immediately reminded that God works in mysterious ways and will  provide. I am not a religious person by any means but I have had more than my share of experiences where it seemed that the hand of divine providence was present.
We said our good byes, and I thanked the gentleman again for his generosity, he wished me good luck and expressed his envy. I continued to paddle down the river to the Alton, Illinois area, I had and accident with a submerged log and managed to puncture my boat and had to repair it with some car seat vinyl and rubber cement. while I waited for the repairs to set I ditched my gear and hiked up to see the legendary Paisa bird.

The remainder of my time on the river is a blur of camp sites, folks I met, fish I saw, deep woods, mosquitos, ticks, fire flies, going without food or water for a couple of days at a whack, and the overwhelming sensation of FREEDOM.
All in all I hung out on the river a total of 55 days, I got tired of being wet, the mosquitos were really bad, the portaging around dams was tedious and tiring, and I was looking elsewhere for adventure.
I ditched my boat along the river and wrote a note on it in pen;
Tom Moore
paddled this boat from northern Illinois
via the fox , Illinois and the mighty Mississippi rivers
taking 55 days.
Whom ever finds this boat is welcome to keep it.
Tomahawk
I packed up my gear, then hiked up to the road from the river and proceeded to hitch hike back to Chicago. While in the city, I saw some bicycle messengers riding around, I applied for and got a Bike messenger job with a company called “Minute man”, I worked in the city as a messenger for 3 years – in the winter. My summers, were spent as a wilderness guide in Montana.
But that is another story.

_______

New Mexico Living on the edge

Hitch Hiking and Foraging in New Mexico

“The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
~ Hunter S. Thompson 

I was at my camp in the Huachuca Mountains of South Eastern Arizona, and getting a little bored. I had been living there for the winter, Surviving on the meager funds I had at my disposal and a lot of dumpster diving on the army base. There were some pretty rich pickings in those dumpsters at the training areas. One morning, over coffee, I decided to head for New Mexico. I had no clear destination in mind, I would just headed east to see where I would end up. I packed up and Cached some of my extra gear, then hiked the 5 miles down to town from my “Stealth camp” in the mountains.

After a stop over at my storage locker in the town of Sierra Vista, where I swapped out some gear and clothing. I walked over to the dollar store and bought some sardines, crackers and the cheapest jar of instant coffee I could find. On my way back to the locker to get my pack I stopped at the tortilla factory and picked up 2 packages of corn tortillas, that left me enough $$ to buy a can of skoal dip, and a small bottle of coke. Im not really a pop drinker but I have found that, a few drops of coke in a canteen of water makes it a bit more palatable, especially warm or tepid water that has been sloshing around in a plastic canteen.

I crammed all of my gear into a small Northface “Krag dancer” pack and headed out. I walked to the edge of town then caught my first ride that dropped me off near tombstone. I took Highway 191 north through Arizona, and finally, in the town of Strawberry, Arizona. I caught a ride East with a kid who was going to New Mexico. He wasnt a bad cat as I recall, and worked as a chef in phoenix. It was a long ride , and about 20 miles outside of Gallop, NM, I asked him to drop me off. Going into a town at night when you are hitch hiking is a pain in the ass unless you have the funds to get a hotel room.
After I got out of the car and my eyes adjusted to the moon light, I could see some cottonwood trees in the distance and could smell cow crap, so I knew there was a coulee near by. I jumped the fence and walked toward the cottonwoods, After about 300 meters and came upon a bluff over looking the coulee. I set my tent up near there with some sage brush shielding me from any view of the road.

 I have always made hidden camps, mostly for 2 reasons; 1. im probably trespassing and 2. I dont trust folks 100%. There is a line from a movie I remember, “It is very imprudent to let your presence be known in hostile country”. Words to live by.

It was good to relax, eat some food, then stretch out in my tent. It had been a long day of travel and I was tired. I didnt have a sleeping bag with me, Just an Army poncho liner, and it got a bit cool toward morning. I tend to go by the old U.S. Army Infantry saying “Travel light freeze at night”, it certainly held true that night.

In the morning, it was see your breath cold. After packing up, I headed down into the coulee out of site of the road, then built a small twig fire from sage brush. I took out my canteen cup, with lid, G.I. Spoon, coffee and tortillas. I heated some water for coffee, and scorched a few tortillas for breakfast. The cheap coffee I bought was horrible, so I added some coke to sweeten it up. The combo of coke and coffee is my own version of “Jolt cola”.
Thusly refreshed, I headed up to the road and stuck out my thumb, the rest of the day was a series of rides with some very interesting folks.
My last ride picked me up just outside of the Jicarilla Apache Rezervation near the town of Jicarilla, new mexico, the term Jicarilla comes from Mexican Spanish and means “Little Baskets”. This guy was a self proclaimed pot grower and claimed he had plantations all over the mountains. He told me he was heading toward Taos and knew of a place near Valdez that was good for camping.
The Dude dropped me off in the mountains outside of Valdez, New Mexico, in the Hondo river valley, of the Beautiful Sangre De Cristo Mountains. It is a pretty, riparian area with lots of wild edibles to be had. Its only drawback is that it is near Taos, NM, which like Tombstone, Az, has become a major tourist trap, with over priced everything.
I shouldered my pack then headed off the road and into the woods, walking toward the river. I didn’t have much food left in my pack, but my last ride gave me some beer, corn chips and donuts. It was late in the afternoon so I dropped my pack , took off my leather hiking boots and changed into my canvas high top sneakers. There were numerous large dandelion plants growing at this spot so I pulled up several and cut out the “crown” where the leaves meet the root. Earlier in the day I had collected some burdock root and curly dock while on the Jicarilla Apache reservation.
wading knee deep into the river, I went searching for crayfish or any type of wild plant edibles that I may find. I had already bagged 2 decent sized crayfish when I spied a bunch of water cress growing in a small stream feeding into the Hondo.
I drew my old Green River knife from its raw hide neck sheath and carefully cut several bunches of cress. This combined with the burdock root,dandelion crowns, and curly dock I had collected earlier would make the base for a decent stew. Placing the cress into my net bag along with my crayfish ,I waded back into the stream to look for more. After about 15 minutes more searching I ended up with a total of 5 Crayfish for my stew. It was a good haul.
Wading back down stream to where my pack was stashed, I Picked up my gear and looked about for a decent place to camp. I spotted a good looking area with some rocks behind and a small cosp of aspens to the front, I decided to pitch my tent there.
It took me about 10 minutes to set up my tent and tarp and to change out of my wet high top sneakers and back into my hiking boots. Grabbing my fishing line I headed back to the stream to try my luck , I was surprised to catch 2 decent sized trout, one right after the other.
A sprinkle of rain had began, so I cleaned my fish at the stream and headed back to my camp to gathered some fire wood and tinder. I wanted to get a fire going and cook my fish and wild veggies.
I chopped up the fish and veggies and threw that, along with the crayfish into my small blue enameled cooking pot. I added some salt,and let it cook until the fish fell apart. After the stew had cooked I added some crushed chillies, olive oil,and a dash of vinegar for flavoring. I had a few beat up corn tortillas in my pack so I heated those on the coals and made a canteen cup of coffee.
All in all it was a tasty meal, I rounded it off with a few handfulls of home made trail mix and raw oatmeal. Sitting there by my fire looking around, I noticed that the river bluffs reminded me of sleeping mountain lions, I listened to the sound of the aspen leaves as they danced on the wind, and in the gathering twilight I could see bats and nightjars swoop and dive at the insects along the river. It was a good way to spend a summer evening. You dont see Riparian animals too much in my neck of the Arizona Mountains. It was refreshing to be there along the Hondo.
I hung out for a few days around the Hondo river and the Bull of the woods area, it was beautiful there, and I did some hiking near Wheeler peak , which is the highest point in New Mexico.

After about a week of hiking around and hitching rides into Taos for supplies, I packed up and headed north to Raton to stop off and see my friend Alan and check on my favorite Mule Arlene. I managed to get to Raton with 3 rides, one was from a game warden….It marks the first time I was ever given a ride by law enforcement while Hitchhiking. Alan was out and About when I arrived so I dropped my pack in the Tack room and walked out in the pasture to see if his Remuda was around. but, no, they were not there except for Chief and another horse I didnt recognize. The rest of the remuda must be up in the hills above Raton, grazing on fresh grass.

I went back to the tack room and raided one of the Kayak boxes for some mountain house meals, I got down a stove, then heated some water for javva and to rehydrate the meals. I was 1/2 way through my 2nd freeze dried meal when Alan showed up. Ha had to run a few errands and as luck would have it, getting ready to head up to the NM/Colorado state line to set up a camp for a horse pack trip. We hopped on the quad runner and went out to wrangle the rest of the stock. Followed by a pack of dogs and a cloud of dust.

The area where the Remuda was at, is one of my favorite environments, it is where the mountains meet the prairie, so you find plants and trees from both areas there. It is a very rich environment. With lots of great Elk, deer, and Bear hunting in the Fall. We drove the quad up the fire break and the dogs were out ahead of us – they knew the deal and so did the horses and mules. With a lot of barking, some shouting and a bit of whistling, we got the equines headed down hill. I was actually able to rope tequila – one of my favorite horses, and hopped up on him for the ride back down the mountain. I dont know why, but for me, the scenery seems to be prettier if you are forked up on a good horse or mule.

Anyway, we drove stock down to the corrall, and would come fetch them up in the morning, we threw out a few bales of hay , then went back to the barn and loaded into a 10 horse trailer,  all of the needed saddles, tentage, ropes and food for an over night trip.We were taking along Chief, Tequila, Arlene, Jake, Janet, Josie, and a couple others I didnt know. But all of Alans stock are good stout bastards and trail savvy, not to mention well trained. In my 7 years as a hunting guide, working around Mules, I found that there are 2 things they dont like – dogs and strangers..and, they can spot a rookie pretty quick. Though Im far from a rookie about working with Equines, I didnt know some of the newer Animals in Alans remuda so, I was going to work with Arlene as my mount, then josie and janet as pack animals.

We made all things ready for an early morning departure, then Al broke out some elk steaks and a gallon of cheap red wine….What a great way to spend a summer evening! sitting around outside, sipping wine, grilling bush meat, and swapping yarns with an old friend….I always liked that part of New Mexico as well, it is one of my favorite places.

Wayyy too early the next AM,we made guides coffee, then hopped in the truck and drove the trailer down to get the Horses and Mules, we caught them up, tied them off to the trailer, then groomed and saddled each animal, hooking the bridle and bit to the horn of our riding mounts saddles. After loading up, we drove to the sugarite state park on the NM/Colorado state line, parked the trailer and truck, unloaded the animals, packed our mules, with tents to set up for the upcoming guests, our food, water, a stove and some fuel, along with an axe, and a cross cut saw. Then we bitted our riding mounts, saddled up and lit out down the trail.

It was cool in the forest, there was a slight chill in the air, but it was refreshing to be out. Mounted on a good savvy trail Mule has always been a pleasure to me, it is one of the things I have always enjoyed. We climbed higher into the mountains , parts of the trail were pretty steep but Arlene had no trouble hauling me. Alans little black pack Mule, Jake was being a bit of a problem though, by fighting the others, and constantly trying to pull the lead rope away from Al. I heard my friend say “Jake, you little Bastard” about 1000 times on that ride. There is something about black mules, they are – in my experience – always causing problems. Compared to red mules, which I have found are easier to work with. In fact, one Guide outfit I worked at in Montana would not mix red and black mules together in the same string. It was either all red mules or black mules. Never mixing horses into the pack string either. Horses are a pain in the ass on the trail, and compared to a good tough mule are delicate. Needing grain, special care, always tearing up a pack string etc. I have found that even the dumbest mule is still 10 times smarter then the smartest horse.

It took a few hours to get up to the first camp site area. We set up a picket line, then unsaddled all but our riding mounts and 2 pack animals. Taking the Axe and crosscut saw we went out and cut dead standing trees to make a tent frame for the sheep herder tent we brought along for the future guests. We set up the tent, then saddled up and went to the next location to do the same thing. We returned to the 1st camp site, unsaddled the rest of the stock, watered them, and broke out the grain and alfalfa.
There was no fire danger as of yet so we kindled a flame in the true Guides fashion with Ohio blue tip matches and coleman fuel. I cooked up a big pot of spaghetti,on the coleman stove, made coffee, and Alan dug a mostly full bottle of crown royal whiskey out of his war bag. We polished off dinner with a few apples and gave the cores to the pack stock. We also fed the dogs from the bag of dried food we brought along. We sat around sipping coffee fortified with crown royal, swapped some lies and war stories about past hunts, and the people and Animals we have known. Alan, like most mountain man/cowboy types is very well read, and has a college education, it is always a pleasure to talk to him. He can intelligently talk about or discuss most any topic, with the exception of sports – same with me. I have never had an interest in sports, and find it silly, that most city types spend their lives worrying about what team is going to the toilet bowl or what ever it is called. To each his or her own I guess.

It was a good time up there in the woods with my friend Al and some of my favorite Animals. We eventually grew quiet, there were longer pauses in the conversation. I could see that my friend was deep in thought about something besides being here in the moment. I soon fell to sleep there by the fire, and awoke to throw a saddle pad over me and under me, to help ward off the night time chill. In the morning we packed up, saddled up, and hit the trail back to Raton. It was a good trip, but I was bound for another adventure.

Foraging food on the road
There has been many times all over the world that I have been low on funds or simply didnt have any money at all. It has always been a policy of mine to read about the edible plants and native people in the countries I visit. In Asia, I have been pretty lucky in finding food , water and places to sleep. I know Thailand, Cambodia, and the Philippines pretty well, and can comfortable fit into those locations. I can understand the people, and I am able to adapt and respond accordingly. The same is true with North America. I have Hitch Hiked, Hopped trains, Canoed, hiked and traveled by horseback all over the USA. Actually, Im not bragging but, I can easily survive in the USA either in a city or in a wilderness area. The abundence we possess is pretty obvious if you travel outside of America.
Once, while hitch hiking through Utah, and Arizona. I was running low on grub and didn’t have the economic means to buy any. I was fishing at every opportunity, Dumpster diving, and keeping my eyes peeled for any wild edibles. One of my practices is to check the dumpsters behind small “Mom and Pop” stores in the USA. From those type of places I have scored an amazing amount of Vegetables.
From foraging wild foods, I have collected a lot of plantain leaves, and seed heads, lambs quarters, sheep sorrel, Dandelion flowers and leaves – I also harvested the “Crown” of the dandelion which is the part where the leave stems and the top of the root come together.
The crown is pretty tasty and I just cooked them up in 2 changes of water to remove the bitterness, then dowsed them in a bit of olive oil, salt, garlic powder and crushed chilies, mmmmm, tasty!
I always carry a spice kit as part of my plunder when on the road, or on an extended scout in the wilds. My spice kit consists of 1. salt 2. crushed chillies 3. 8 oz of olive oil 4. 8 oz of apple cider vinegar 5. garlic powder. You can spice up most things well enough to make them edible, shoot, a little salt on a fish cooked on the hot rocks of your fire is pretty darn good.
I was walking through the small town of Green River,Utah and saw some cattail plants which had pollen on them so I collected it and put it in a small zip lock bag for later use, I also collected a few stems where they meet the roots, this part is white and easy to chew kinda like a celery stalk. Cattails are the supermarket market of the forest and every part is edible. Later on I added the pollen to my granola.
Also, I was running low on coffee so I gathered some Mormons tea and stuck in my bag for a brew up until I could get some more coffee. The Mormons tea is tasty stuff. The taste, for some reason reminds me of weak root beer. You can make a decent tasting hot drink out of pine needles also, but I like the Mormons tea, hot or cold. I put any left overs into my Nalgene bottle for drinking while on the road.
Other plants I managed to forage were Thistle, Barberry, and water cress just to name a few.I also managed to shoot a few Jack rabbits and cottontails with the .22 I sometimes with me. I have also caught lots of fish . I look for crayfish or “craw daddies” as some people call them when I was foraging along streams.
All in all you can eat pretty good if you know what to look for and how to find it. Personally I am not against dumpster diving, and have always been amazed at the useful and edible things that people throw away! there is a guy who lives in Utah in a cave near Moab and he lives good on the things people throw away, he simply goes to town and searches the dumpsters and forages as he walks to and from town.
Remember to Always keep your eyes open and look for anything edible and useful, it is a good practice to get into, That way, you will never go hungry.

The reality of reality TV

A few years ago I was approached by Dick-scovery channel about hosting a reality tv show about survival around the world. I agreed, signed a contract, and waited for filming to begin. Unknown to me during the waiting time, the show format and concept had changed immensely and had morphed into a juvenile and frat boy like embarrassing show where I would be working with 4 other “experts” in the field of survival….
To make things worse, the network changed the name to the juvenile and embarrassing title of “Dude your screwed”…yup, I was embarrassed to tell family and friends about it due to the name and the fact that my fellow “experts” had no survival knowledge.
I tried to get out of the contract but was locked in for the duration. Finally I accepted the idea and did the show for the money and the free world travel. During the filming of the 7 episodes I (we) traveled to Alaska, Costa Rica, Chile, Florida, Utah, California, Finland, and Iceland. I have attached a write up about my personal trek in Chile. it was a great adventure and I would love to get back the Patagonia one day.
Corcovado Chile` – The departing helicopters rotor blades were kicking up volcanic ash and cold wind. My “friends” had just dropped me off in the caldera of Corcovado volcano in Patagonia, Chile`. I was lightly dressed, it was cold, getting dark, and I was standing on a mix of rock and ice. Looking around me there was no choice of direction other than to climb out of the caldera and try to get a view, and locate a decent route off the mountain before dark.
For equipment, I was left with a bouquet of flowers, some plant food, a gallon of antifreeze, and six golf clubs. I also had a fairly decent jacket left by my “friends”. I had nothing in my pockets except a cotton bandanna. It was not exactly a good survival kit . I could already see things I could use to ensure my safety and survival. I was also wearing a biometrics belt that my “Friends” could monitor my progress from. It contained a satellite GPS readout and my bio data.

The temperature was dropping fast, I put on the jacket, and slung the golf bag over my shoulder. Using a golf club ad a walking cane, I headed up to the rim of the caldera. The golf club cane worked well and gave me 3 points of contact on the slippery rocks and ice. Once on the rim , I was able to see mountains in the far distance to the east. Snow covered and beautiful.
I also saw a lake about 3 miles away. I headed there. It was a difficult decent, some of the rocks moved and rolled at the slightest touch, and I kept breaking through the thin crust of ice. Once I got lower in elevation, the temperature warmed slightly and I began to see small streams of water. I stopped at one and quenched my thirst. I also saw some dried grass which I took along to use for fire tinder later on. Just in case I didn’t see anything else later on.
Reaching the lake area right at dark, I still had a few minutes of nautical twilight left, so I gathered fire wood and looked for a place to build my fire. The moon was rising in the gathering twilight, and the sky was crystal clear. It was getting cold as I broke out the plant food and antifreeze that I would use to make fire. Potassium permanganate and glycerine combined make a chemical form of ignition – fire. The plant food and antifreeze contained these chemicals.
I took my dried grass, and some small match stick size twigs, and made a “nest” , next i added the plant food , then dribbled some antifreeze on that. poof!, fire!
I stoked the fire up pretty big, making a “white mans fire” for light, combined with the increasing moonlight , I was able to see well enough to gather a huge pile of fire wood. I was not able to locate shelter materials so my plan was to lay by the fire all night. I made a parallel fire lay the length of my body, gathered some grass to insulate me from the ground, stoked the fire. and laid down to relax.

I slept very well, except the moon was so bright, it was like someone was shining a flashlight in my face all night. The next morning, I awoke to a beautiful sunrise, gathered my things and headed to the lake to have a look. I stopped off at a stream to slake my thirst. I drank 25 swallows of the stream water , giving me about 20 ounces in my stomach. Some people might think drinking unpurified stream water is not very smart. But, I can assure you. Dehydration is not a good thing. If the water makes you Ill you can always fix that when you get back to civilization.
It was a beautiful lake, but I noticed there were no signs of fish working on the water. I also noticed there were no bugs or insects of any kind. That tells you this, No insects means no food for fish, no fish means no food for me. As I stood on the shore of the lake, I could see that I was basically in a bowl. I had no choice but to climb out of there to higher ground to see where I was.
The jungle was amazingly thick, and there was huge patches of moss, and moss growing 2 feet deep on the bigger trees. It was a surreal place, but very beautiful. I had no tools or weapons at my disposal but I had the 6 golf clubs, and an idea.
On my way back to my overnight camp site,I stopped and drank a lot more water. Digging around in my fire pit, I was able to locate some hot coals which I gathered on a slab of weed. Walking back to the stream, I made another fire, and stoked it high. I was going for hot coals. I took one of the golf clubs and stuck it in the fire.
Next, I gathered some diurite stones to use as hammers and an anvil. Diurite, I believe , is the 2nd hardest stone in the world. Perfect for emergency blacksmithing tools. I have studied blacksmithing on a primitive forge in Thailand and the Philippines. I was confident that in due time, I could transform one of the golf clubs into a useful cutting tool.
Once the golf club head was good and hot, i took it to the stream and cooled it off, that way i could remove the head. I was left with a hollow tube and a steel head. Taking them back to the fire I shoved the head deep into the coals. Next, I burned off the butt end of the handle. I used it for forced air to make the coals hot. I had no charcoal so this would have to do.
After an hour or so of heating and blowing forced air the steel head was getting to the point where I could begin to shape it into a tomahawk. My design idea was to make it like a hand axe with a spike on the end. The spike could be used as a marlin spike, foraging tool, self defense, or driven into a hard wood handle to make the head into a hatchet.
Long story short, it took me 6+ hours of exhausting work to shape the golf club into a tomahawk looking too,l with a spike in the end. I looked around for suitable handle materials but didn’t see anything I could use.
It was around 3 in the afternoon when I dowsed my fire, took another long pull of water, and shouldered my golf bag. Time to hit the trail. The ascent was very difficult, the species of bamboo growing in the forest was one I had never seen before. It would tangle my feet and catch on the golf bag I carried. causing me to stumble a lot. I used my tomahawk many times to cut my way through the bamboo tangle.
It was exhausting. I had no water or food. Oddly I noticed too, that I had not seen any wild life except one dragon fly and one small bird.
After hours of hiking , it was getting dark and I had not reached the summit peak I was aiming for. I could have made it to the top by dark but then I would have been stuck on a treeless peak with no fuel for a fire. And there were many sheer rock face drop offs in the area. I located a relatively flat area to lay down on .
I dropped my bag, and after much searching, I had a stack of fire wood to last me all night. I waited until full dark to kindle my fire. I wanted to wait to make the fire to ensure I had enough fuel to last me all night. the Last thing I wanted to do was run out of wood in the middle of the night.
That night, after full dark I was able to spot man made lights to the north. Salmon farms maybe. Fishing village perhaps. So I decided to head in that direction in the morning. Once I peaked out on the summit and had a better look around I could decide on my best option. I sat by my fire and star gazed most of the night. The southern cross was beautiful and the moonlight was so bright, I could have easily read a book, if I had one.
It got pretty frosty before morning and as a consequence of this , I was awake well before dawn. As soon as it was light enough to see, I headed up to the summit. Once on the summit, I was afforded a 360 degree view of the area. It was burn your eyeballs gorgeous! To my east was what looked like a wilderness stretching into infinity, to my west , north and south, was the Pacific coast. In the distance I could see a rainbow that followed a squall over the ocean.
That is where I headed. I went looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was symbolic to me. The Pacific coast has plenty of food and That is what I needed = pot of gold.
I headed down an arroyo toward the ocean. Since rivers lead to the sea, so too do washes and arroyos. More bamboo jungle met me and it was difficult going, but this time down slope, which, for me is always easier. It took me nearly the total hours of day light to reach the coast. Once there I measured the time til sunset using the hand method. I had less than 2 hours before dark.
As I was checking the time , I saw 2 sea lions (lobos del mar in spanish) surface on the water then followed by a killer whale. That was awesome to see. Inspired by the wild life sighting, I set about making a shelter.
While gathering driftwood poles and Nalga leaves to make the shelter, I found a 2 liter plastic pop bottle I could use as a canteen. Even better, I found a 6 foot by 5 foot piece of styrofoam. It was 8 or 9 inches thick and made a perfect mattress for my shelter.
Once my shelter was made, I gathered fire wood. Kindled a fire, then set out looking for food in the tidal pools. I found lots of bull kelp, crabs, limpets and mussels. I also found a lot of seaside plantain. In addition to these I cut up the stalk of the Nalga plant to roast in the coals.
I wrapped the limpets and plantain leaves in the bull Kelp, skewered the crab on sticks, and roasted my Nalga stalks. While the food was cooking, I went to the coastal river and filled the plastic bottle with the brackish water. I could have gotten fresher water further up stream but I was tired and feeling lazy. On the way back to my fire I gathered more fire wood.
After not eating for several days the aroma of the cooking seafood was overpowering. I couldn’t wait to sit on my styrofoam pad and chow down. By the time my camp was set up and the food cooked, it was full dark. I let the fire burn down to coals , raked out the “packet” of sea food, tore it open and dined in regal splendor there on the beach, under a full moon, with a nice breeze blowing. My music was the crash of the surf. I ate until there was nothing left but a pile of broken crab and limpet shells. Id like to say that I do not even like sea food but,That particular meal of fresh sea food was one of my most memorable. The old saying that “Hunger is the best sauce” applied in this case.
After dinner I raked a large burning ember out of my fire and carried it into my shelter, I had dug a small hole near the entrance to my “hooch” to place it in. I blocked the door with a slab of styrofoam. The ember burned all night, and took off the chill inside of my humble abode.
I had a good 9 hours of sleep and woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, but oh maaannn , I needed a cup of coffee! Lacking that, I took a long pull on my water bottle, looked at the beautiful scenery, then took apart my shelter and hit the trail. I headed north, up the coast toward the lights I had seen. After foraging my way up the beach for a few hours I began to get hungry. I stopped, and kindled a fire (with the last of my potassium permanganate and antifreeze) to cook the giant limpets and crabs I had collected. While the food cooked, I thought about other ways to make fire if need be in the near future.
As I was sitting there on a log near my fire, dining on crab, I spotted a yacht approaching. I saw them lower a zodiac into the water and and then some men jump on board. They were heading toward me. To my surprise it was my “friends” out looking for me. Apparently , I had lost my biometrics belt some where along the way (I hadn’t noticed). It turns out they were worried about my condition and made the decision to come “rescue” me. They had a approximate idea of my location due to their last biometrics read out, so, with a bit of luck , they found me easily enough.
It was actually good to see them. They came bearing gifts of chocolate and Johnny Walker black label whisky. But alas, no coffee! After exchanging greetings, having a drink or two, and shooting the shit on the beach, we piled into the zodiac and headed for the Yaht “Alba”. She is a beautiful fully restored 1920s era wooden yacht. Once on board, I was able to finally get that damn cup of coffee . All in all, It was a good trek, I absolutely Love Chilean Patagonia and would welcome the opportunity to return for another challenge but NOT with Discovery channel.
I don’t want to take the shit with the sugar.

______

Tomahawk and Arlene in New Mexico

Tom Moore and the Mule

Arlene was my all-time favorite saddle mule. In my 7 years as a hunting guide and packer in Montana and New Mexico, working around Mules, I noticed 3 things they don’t like. 1. Dogs. 2. Strangers. And # 3. Rookies – they can spot a rookie pretty quick. When I met her Arlene was a well-seasoned trail mule, broke to pack and ride. I was by that time rather trail savvy myself, so Arlene and me had nary a problem. We shared many miles of trail and she brought me home day and night in all types of weather.

There is an old frontier saw that you can never know a man until you take to the trail with him in bad weather well, the same can be said of mules and horses. Ol’ Arlene never let me down and always kept her calm disposition no matter the situation.

There are some words from Mr. Thomas Moore, who was the chief packer for the U.S. Army during the Indian wars of the American west. His words express how I feel about Mules and animals in general;

“The mule has never been done justice. It is popular to disparage him, and people do so without knowing anything about the subject. God made the mule on purpose. The horse has that in his nature which shows what he was made for more than a servant of man. God saw that man needed a straight out servant, so he built the mule. And a true servant he is. Almost as soon as he is able to walk, he begins to be used; and his tireless service ends only when the last breath leaves his worn-out carcass. You might also say that he is useful every day of his life. He is always faithful and always reliable. He understands his work, and does it as few men do theirs. The idea that he needs to be cursed and clubbed to work is pure idiocy. He does his best with kind treatment. Kick? Yes, he has a bad reputation as a kicker, but that arises mostly from faulty handling. I am in less danger of being kicked when among mules than when among horses. A greenhorn unused to handling horses or mules will be in less danger among mules than horses.”

Personally I think his words ring true with 90% of the mules I have worked with. I have met a few dangerous ones also. But, those animals were the direct result of poor handling, they can with patients be retrained.

On my last trip to New Mexico to visit my friend Alan I wanted to see Arlene. Al told me she had gone blind in one eye so he retired her to pasture. We saddled up and rode out to check the livestock. As we rode along, Alan’s other horses and Mules came up, and I saw Arlene out in the field. I gave her a whistle – the one I always used to call her in the past. Her head shot up, she looked my way, and began to trot towards me. I dismounted, and threw my arms around the old girls neck, and gave her a hug. It was good to see her. She was a savvy old gal, and brought me through some tough country, day and night on her own, with me as baggage. I will admit, I had a tear in my eye….

She nudged my pocket, because she knew I had them, her favorite – peanut butter flavored granola bars. I took one out of my pocket and peeled back the wrapper, and let her munch away.
It was good to see her again, I’ll never forget her. I was told my old compadre Alan that Arlene died the following winter, after 26 years of faithful service and thousands of miles of trail. People who think animals don’t remember, or have feelings for people (or vice versa) are just wrong, very wrong.

Tim Smith and the Jack Mountain Bushcraft school in Maine

THE UNCOILED ROPE
“I was wearied and footsore, but it was real earnest work and I enjoyed it.
Any kind of simple natural destruction is preferable to the numb, dumb,
apathetic deaths of a town.”
-John Muir, Life and Letters

I had just returned to Arizona from a round trip hitch hiking and bus trip to the Panama Canal, when my good friend and fellow wilderness bum Tim Smith ,of the Jack Mountain bushcraft and guide service in Maine (www.jackmtn.com) contacted me about coming up there to help him with a semester course.

Back in the 1980’s when I was trying to decide where I wanted to attend guide school it came down to a coin toss between Maine and Montana – Montana won. I ended up working as a Big Game Hunting guide in Montana, Arizona and New Mexico for about 10 years on and off. But in the back of my mind I always wanted to go to Maine and experience its wilderness and local “wild life”.
I sold my last 2 guns at a pawn shop for some quick cash, collected what gear I had on hand then bummed a ride to the Tucson airport from my good friend Matt.

The money I had was enough to get a one way ticket to Manchester New Hampshire via Chicago. I have yet another good buddy – Sean “Pog” Kendrigan, living in NH with his family.

Sean is a cool dude to hang out with and talk too, He possesses a quick wit, a superior intellect and perhaps the greatest sense of humor I have ever encountered. He loves Big Game Hunting, Guns, rock climbing, mountaineering and all things associated with wilderness. I know he has worked as a ski instructor, wilderness guide and river raft guide. Sean and I spent a lot of time working together in the Utah wilderness programs; we got along well and tried to make the best of a difficult job. In short – it is guys like Sean that make guys like me stay as shitty jobs like that.

Sean met me at the “Manch-vegas” airport; we hopped into his truck and headed to his place in the woods. It was about a 1 hour trip so we were shooting the shit about the annoying characters and “Little assholes” we worked with at the wilderness programs in Utah.

It was good to reminisce about that job, Id sure hate to do it again though; it is not so much the “Little assholes” you work with but rather the self important staff. The instructors and staff of those programs seem to always be comprised of Trust fund babies out slumming for the summer.

It is not only my opinion, but also the opinion of many others that most of those “trustafarians” feel guilty for being rich so they come west and work with juvenile delinquents for the summer, so 40 years from now at a cocktail party, they can say how hard it was when they had to live in the woods, or their cars to help out the under privileged kids. I digress…..

Anyway, in due time we arrived at Sean’s temporary digs, he went to bed but I sat up drinking the last of my whiskey and watching TV. Once the whiskey was gone, I grabbed my poncho liner and hammock and headed out back to go to sleep. I found a nice spot to sling the Hennessey in a small birch grove.

I crash out, woke up several hours later with a slight head ache and a powerful hunger.Taking a look around Sean’s place I noticed there was nothing to eat there so I headed up the road to look for a café to get a bite of breakfast.

After eating, I took a look around the area and saw some pretty scenery. I had never been in the North east USA before so it was a refreshing change from the desert South West.
The next night Sean, his friend Dave and I headed for Vermont to a strip club for some stimulating adult type of entertainment. The following morning I was feeling a little rough after a night of strippers and Vodka so I slept in my hammock most of the day and prepared my gear to head for Maine.

After a day or so of hanging out with Sean and his cohorts I asked Sean to drop me off at the bus station in Concord, NH where I caught a bus to Boston then north to Presque Isle, Maine.
I arrived in “PI” around 10 PM, there is no bus station in the town, the bus simply stops at  a convenience store. I asked the clerk to call me a taxi, he showed up in a few minutes and we were off! I paid the driver the last of my cash to drive me to Masardis, Maine. The driver told me it was “Moose 30” and was a little nervous about driving in that area at night due to the number of moose possibly on the road. I promised him a decent tip if he could get me there so he consented, after about a ½ hour ride he dropped me off in the middle of no where between Marardis and Ashland Maine. – just the way I like it!

It was a beautiful Moon lit clear night. After the Taxi driver departed I took a leak, and stood by the road for a few minutes breathing to cool night air. And, I was also enjoying the silence. In due time, I shouldered my pack and headed into the woods to sling my hammock. The temperature dropped to the mid 40s , which made for nice sleeping. On my first morning in Maine, I awoke to the sounds of gun fire and a chain saw, Ah wilderness! To me, those sounds sure beat the hell out of hearing kids screaming, loud music, or your neighbors fighting.

After rousting myself, I took out my small butane stove and fired up a cup of “Guides coffee”. Feeling much refreshed, I packed my gear at a leisurely pace and made plans for the day. I needed to locate the Jack Mountain Bushcraft and guide school. I had a vague idea where it was but had no idea of how far of a hike it would be.

Sean had given me some extra gear in the form of quality outdoor clothing, some dry bags and river gear, so I was pretty heavily loaded down. In fact, I had 2 heavy packs to carry. I decided to head back to the road and see if I could hitch a ride to Masardis Maine to see if anyone knew where Tim could be located.

After several hours of standing on the highway with no luck catching a ride, I made the decision to cache some of my gear and take off walking. I had been walking for about 20 minutes or so when I spotted a potato field – never one to pass up “free” food I made the decision to pilfer a few ‘taters to stick in my pack.

After a long a hot hike along a highway full of logging trucks, I was offered a ride by a very nice lady. Ironically though, it was only about ½ a mile from Masardis. I cordially accepted her offer. We drove to the Masardis trading post  where we inquired as to Tim Smith’s whereabouts. As good luck would have it, these folks knew Tim well and gave me directions to his property.

The lady who offered me the ride took me back to where I cached my gear then took me to Tim’s place in the woods. Fearing she would get her mini van stuck on the rough road I had her drop un the road from the JMBS field school. I thanked her and she waved her goodbyes in a cloud of dust and a hail of gravel. She was the very personification of what some folks call “Trail Magic”.

So there I was in T10-R5 as this area is called in the Maine Gazetteer. I pulled out my water bottle and took a long pull, next I decided to air out my feet and take a little break before heading down the road the rest of the way to Tim’s field school.

Looking across the road I noticed an apple tree full of good looking fruit, I dragged one of my packs to the tree and picked a couple of apples to munch to on. Then I sat down on my pack and kicked off my shoes.

In between sips on my water bottle and munching the apples, I swatted mosquitoes and flies and took in the immediate scenery. After a short time I notices a small red car approaching, it happened to be no other then Tim Smith AKA “the uncoiled rope”. An uncoiled rope in a canoe, boat, camp, or around pack animals is a dangerous thing to ignore.

I don’t think of Tim as a dangerous person but rather, I think it is very dangerous to ignore his knowledge, skill or advice in the wilderness. That is why I like to call Tim “the uncoiled rope”. It may seem convoluted but makes sense to me and I don’t care what other folks think.

Tim is a natural teacher, a gifted conversationalist, and another one of those extremely intelligent, articulate, skilled and crafty Individuals I have encountered in my travels around the world.. More over, he is a good cook in the wilderness, Loves to sing around the campfire and seems to like whisky as much as I do. What I admire most about my friend Tim though, is his dedication to his family and his love of wilderness education. And lastly,  He is strong as a bear, quick as a cat and able to travel in the wilderness like a bull moose.

After some back slapping, hand shaking and insulting each others mothers we piled my gear into his car and headed into Ashland to buy some supplies.

In town we bought some veggies, chicken and a ½ gallon of cheap whisky. I told Tim I hoped that we would be able to squeak by with only ½ a gallon. Tim said not to worry because he had a guide’s canteen full of a brand of whisky called “Devils elbow”.

Some say it is the Aroostook river water, some say it is the soul of a dead Indian used in the distilling process. No one can say for sure but, it is a fact that “Devils Elbow” has more of a kick then regular whisky. I was soon to find out.

Tim and I headed back to the field school and got a fire going to make guides coffee, then threw the chicken and veggies and my pilfered ‘taters into one of his Dutch ovens and set it on the coals. I can’t tell you why, but to me most of my wilderness bum friends, food always seems to taste better when cooked in a Dutch oven.

While the food was cooking and armed with a large travel mug of coffee and whisky, Tim and I ambled down to the Aroostook River. It was starting to get a little chilly even though it was August. This being my first time in the North East USA I was surprised at how cool it got that evening.
After washing up in the river we headed back to camp to check on the food and to refresh ourselves with a little more whisky. I really liked the field school, there is a comfortable cabin and Tim has a large and diverse library of interesting books to enjoy.

Tim and I sat around shooting the shit, drinking whisky, talking about the upcoming course. We also took turns reading aloud passages from a book of poems by Robert service. When the chicken was cooked we dined in regal splendor inside the cabin listening to Stan Rodgers sing “Barrett’s privateers”, and Dick Curless belt out “Tater raisin man”.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur due to the cheap whiskey but especially the “Devils Elbow” whisky. I can’t really remember doing it but sometime during the night I apparently set up my hammock because the next morning I woke up in it. I swear I heard the voice of a woman saying “Whisky jack wake up”, I heard her voice twice. I looked around and didn’t see anyone so I got up to take a leak and was rewarded with the sight of a cow Moose and her calf cutting through Tim’s property. After I watched the Moose and her calf for a while I crawled back into my soogans for some more sleep.

Later in the day I told Tim about the voice, so he decided then and there, that my new Moniker for the North East USA would be “Whisky Jack”. The name “Whisky jack” is used by many of the old time Maine woodsmen as a nick name for the Canada Jay birds you see flying all over the place. These old timers believe that the Birds are reincarnated woodsmen. I thought then as I do now that it is a fitting name for me.

A little while later I heard a car pull up to the field school and it was no other than Nicole AKA “la femme du Norde” and her father Roy.

Nicole was there to attend the semester course and so we chatted for a bit then I excused myself and went back to my hammock in the woods for a little more sleep.

Thus began my sojourn in the Maine woods with Tim Smith and the Jack Mountain Bushcraft and guide service. It was and still remains one of my most memorable wilderness experiences in recent times. Since then I have been to the JMBS many times and shared camp fires with some good folks. I sincerely hope to return to Maine as soon as possible and to explore its wilderness with my friend Tim, and our wilderness bum friends.



________________________

Bear meat and coffee

It funny how certain sights, smells or tastes can trigger your memory. One day in Cambodia I was standing on the balcony of my apartment , it was a relatively cool day, with a slight rain falling. I was munching on some crispy flat bread and drinking coffee. The combination of the Bread, coffee and rain, took me back about a million years to my cabin in the Garnet range of Montana. I have always liked cool rainy days, with a little fog thrown in. At the time, I had been working in Montana as  Guide and Mule packer for a couple of years and , It was never a great paying gig, but it was fun, adventurous, and the view from the office was spectacular.

I had just finished up the summer guide season. The outfit I worked for had been taking folks in and out of the Bob Marshall, and Scape Goat Wilderness areas around Seeley lake, and Lincoln, Montana. I Drew my pay, plus the “Boss” gave me 20 pounds of frozen bear meat then, dropped me off in Missoula. I stayed in town for a bit, and went to the Oxford bar and bought myself a “double Ox Burger” and hash browns, washed it down with a beer or 2, then Paid my bills, to include the mortgage and taxes on my little cabin and 20 acres.

After the bills were paid, I had very little money left to buy food, or any other type of supplies. As I recall, I was able to buy a Large jar of Nescafe instant coffee , some olive oil, and 2 packs of flour tortillas AND, I had the 20 lbs of bear meat.

I Hitch hiked the 40+ miles to the Garnet range, then walked the 5 miles to my cabin. I was raining slightly, the temperature was around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, nice and cool for a long hike. My plan was to spend the next month – Until the start of the fall Hunting Guide season – at my place and work on some of the projects I had in mind, like making a meat smoker from an old refrigerator, Building a lean to sleeping shelter, and repairing my gear. I always figured that if I ran out of grub I would hunt, fish and forage. I also had some dried food stuffs in my cabin , not much, but a few things like salt, sugar, lentils,beans, oats, etc.

It took me about 3 hours to hike the 5 miles to the cabin, I got there in the late afternoon. After opening up the cabin and sweeping out the mouse crap, I had a look around to see what kind of damage had occurred in my absence. It was getting a bit cool , so I build a fire in the Wood burning barrel stove, and set some water to boil in my battered old enamel coffee pot.

Realizing I was hungry and running low on energy, I got down my favorite frying pan “Old Come and get it” and set it on the stove to heat up, I sliced off 2 decent steaks from the bear meat, then cooked them in olive oil and sprinkled them with salt and pepper, I next fried some of the tortillas crisp in the oil. I was a memorable meal, I ate it sitting on the bunk bed I made, looking out the window at the gathering twilight.

I have been all over the world since then, and have eaten in many classy restaurants with some very beautiful companions, Ive eaten many expensive foods, gourmet dishes etc. But, That simple meal of coffee, tortillas and bear meat, eaten alone, combined with the location, the weather, and the fact it was cooked on the wood burning stove I made myself. Is the most memorable meal of my adult life.

_________________