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keith44spl
Member
One more time before I give up the ghost... 
Tall Tales & Steep Trails...Life in the High Country ** Back for the Holidays
- Thread starter keith44spl
- Start date
PacerBurton
Member
Muy hermoso.
I meido I would frozen.
I meido I would frozen.
Liked 10,000 Times
I love it when a plan comes together
..Couln't have happened to a nicer Ornery Old Coot..
I love it when a plan comes together
..Couln't have happened to a nicer Ornery Old Coot..
shouldazagged
Absent Comrade
Nice yarns, Dave and Iggy. Good pictures too, Dave.
crsides
US Veteran, SWCA Member, Absent Comrade
Speakin' of wimmen on hunting trips. I once took a group of "Hollywood folks" antelope huntin' on the ranch.
Spotted some goats a couple of miles away headin' north. We drove to a hill point where I thought the critters might pass in time. When we arrived, we got out and crawled up a little pass to where I thought they might get some shootin'.
Well, we met those antelope head on. Those goats went right between us and those clowns opened fire at less than 25 yards.
I hit the deck to avoid the cross-fire. When the ruckus was over they had knocked down three head within 50 yards of us.
They started dressing out their game. I noticed another one down about 150 yards away. I said I would go see what was what. Well this fine lookin' blonde that "belonged" to one of those fellers that claimed he was a director or something, tagged along with me.
The goat was dead, so I started dressing it out.. The blonde said "My it's hot out here!" I din't pay no attention I was busy with blood and guts.
When I paused for a moment, I discovered the "starlet" had ditched her blouse and bra.
Now this might seem like a neat deal, but when you're 18 years old and your sittin' out there on the prairie next to some feller's gal and she is topless and he is settin 150 yards away with a scoped rifle, the "pucker factor" plumb ruins the moment.
I durn near cut my thumb off tryin' whilst carefully not lookin' at anything but the goat I was workin' on. I finished the job and said we needed to get back over there to help those fellers with their goats.
She finally put her stuff away and we went back to where they was still butcherin', and never a word was said.
I din't quite calm down until them folks was loaded up and gone.
Now I kinda wish I had paid a wee bit more attention to what was going on around me. I do remember that the panorama out there on the Wyoming prairie sure was spectacular that day.
Iggy
It didn't happen without pictures.
Charlie
Wonderful stories and pictures Dave.
You sir have been blessed. I'm sure you realize this.
Makes an old flat lander like me green with envy to
hear these stories and then picture the Beautiful
country and majesty you have been fortunate enough
to gaze upon.
You have lived the life most of us have only dreamed
about.
Please keep em' coming sir.
Best Regards, Chuck
You sir have been blessed. I'm sure you realize this.
Makes an old flat lander like me green with envy to
hear these stories and then picture the Beautiful
country and majesty you have been fortunate enough
to gaze upon.
You have lived the life most of us have only dreamed
about.
Please keep em' coming sir.
Best Regards, Chuck
medic15al
Member
That blonde looks Kinda like a young Sue Aikens off that show Life Below Zero.
Life experiences....... summer of 1977...................
sitting on the front porch of the Cabin on on Eastern Continental Divide Somerset Co. Pa.......a thunderstorm....... which sounded like...... the battle of Gettysburg in the distance......... the whole northern and western sky was lit up with lighting......... seemed like it went on forever...... better than 4th of July fireworks........
not a drop of rain..... just a light and sound show in the distance........like the Gods fighting on Mount Olympus
Next morning........on the radio........ heard about the 3rd great Johnstown flood...... a foot of rain..............dams burst....... 80 some dead and hundreds of millions in damage................
and we didn't see a drop of rain.
sitting on the front porch of the Cabin on on Eastern Continental Divide Somerset Co. Pa.......a thunderstorm....... which sounded like...... the battle of Gettysburg in the distance......... the whole northern and western sky was lit up with lighting......... seemed like it went on forever...... better than 4th of July fireworks........
not a drop of rain..... just a light and sound show in the distance........like the Gods fighting on Mount Olympus
Next morning........on the radio........ heard about the 3rd great Johnstown flood...... a foot of rain..............dams burst....... 80 some dead and hundreds of millions in damage................
and we didn't see a drop of rain.
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medic15al
Member
Nature can be awesome AND deadly. Respect her and enjoy her as much as possible.
Ranger514
Member
Going back to the early 1990s, I was Rangering in the Grand Canyon, helping to cover Phantom Ranch during the winter. Winter is slow, but there are still quite a few guests and hikers coming into the inner canyon from the South Rim. At an elevation of 8,000 feet, the North Rim had been closed for the winter because of snowfall. One morning, I left Phantom Ranch early to hike seven miles up the North Kaibab Tr. and check on Cottonwood Ranger Station. I had been the Cottonwood Ranger until we closed it for the season after heavy snows on the North Rim closed the road coming in from Jacob Lake. The upper three miles of the N. Kaibab Tr. were covered in snow, and the North Rim had several feet of white stuff on the ground.
Everything was in good shape at Cottonwood, so after a lunch break, I headed back down the N. Kaibab Tr. toward Phantom. Near a side trail to Ribbon Falls, I ran into a lone backpacker who was headed up to Cottonwood. At first, he was unresponsive when I asked him for his overnight use permit. He was deaf, and relied on lip reading. When he understood my request, he produced the required permit, and used a note pad to ask about conditions on the North Rim. I warned him not to go to the North Rim because of snow, but to return to Phantom Ranch. He seemed evasive about the issue, so I reinforced the thought, telling him there were no services available for about 20 miles from the Rim, and that the road was closed.
I was the last person to see him alive. A few days later, a North Rim Ranger on snowmobile headed back to the North Rim from Jacob Lake found the backpacker frozen in the snow next to the Entrance Station. As his last act, he had removed all the food from his backpack and scattered it on the ground for animals. In the followup death investigation, Backcountry Permit Office staff who had contact with him made him aware that the North Rim and services were closed because of winter shutdown. Why he chose to ignore everyone's advice and put himself at risk in severe winter weather is anybody's guess. His family told investigators he was stubborn. Guess he had a goal, and he wasn't willing to back off.
Everything was in good shape at Cottonwood, so after a lunch break, I headed back down the N. Kaibab Tr. toward Phantom. Near a side trail to Ribbon Falls, I ran into a lone backpacker who was headed up to Cottonwood. At first, he was unresponsive when I asked him for his overnight use permit. He was deaf, and relied on lip reading. When he understood my request, he produced the required permit, and used a note pad to ask about conditions on the North Rim. I warned him not to go to the North Rim because of snow, but to return to Phantom Ranch. He seemed evasive about the issue, so I reinforced the thought, telling him there were no services available for about 20 miles from the Rim, and that the road was closed.
I was the last person to see him alive. A few days later, a North Rim Ranger on snowmobile headed back to the North Rim from Jacob Lake found the backpacker frozen in the snow next to the Entrance Station. As his last act, he had removed all the food from his backpack and scattered it on the ground for animals. In the followup death investigation, Backcountry Permit Office staff who had contact with him made him aware that the North Rim and services were closed because of winter shutdown. Why he chose to ignore everyone's advice and put himself at risk in severe winter weather is anybody's guess. His family told investigators he was stubborn. Guess he had a goal, and he wasn't willing to back off.
Thank you, Gentlemen:
I love these stories. I have stories but not like these. Mine would belong in a different thread. Keep these coming.
I love these stories. I have stories but not like these. Mine would belong in a different thread. Keep these coming.
My buddy and I were on one of our twice annual trips
to the Rosebud Indian Reservation in south central
South Dakota to shoot some Prairie Dogs and relax.
We had spotted a big town west of Mission in Todd
County from state road 16 and we found a gate and
drove back in.
We set up on this big dog town that laid between
two Mesas that made a natural little valley.
At the bottom in the valley was thick, lush, green
grass the little rodents liked so much. The Mesas
were a couple hundred feet high making our trek up
to higher ground for set up with gear in hand a little
time consuming. When we got up high enough to
"command" the entire valley we sat back and opened
a cold one to just enjoy the view. We had found a nice
flat little area on top to call our snipers nest and we
felt good about our labored hike up the side.
Two out of shape guys, one 50 and the other 61, it was
no small feat for us and although exhausted we felt good.
As we sat there feeling like Kings in the warm July
Sun my buddy quipped that we must be the only
living souls within 20 square miles. Other than
a car or truck scooting by once every 15 minutes
or so on lonely road 16 just a quarter mile away
there was no movement, no noise, hardly even a
breeze this area was so notable for.
We glassed the dog town and there were plenty of
"targets of opportunity" scurrying around the valley
floor.
We had just got our bipods extended and set up prone
behind our rifles for some friendly spotting and shooting
as a team when we hear a voice say, Hi.
Looking up we see a small Indian man 65 to 70
years old standing there right behind us with a grin on his face.
Turns out he had a place just down the back side of the Mesa
on which we had set up on.
We sat and talked with this gentleman for hours that warm
afternoon. And although he seemed to have a real affliction
towards our Beer and my buddies Cigarettes, we didn't
mind sharing in exchange for his knowledge of the local
area and peoples.
We shot a few dogs that day but we will never forget being
surprised that day by Mr. Stanley LittleFeather.
We always look up old Stanley every time we return just
to spend a little time joking around and catching up.
And we always bring extra Beer and smokes.
Chuck
to the Rosebud Indian Reservation in south central
South Dakota to shoot some Prairie Dogs and relax.
We had spotted a big town west of Mission in Todd
County from state road 16 and we found a gate and
drove back in.
We set up on this big dog town that laid between
two Mesas that made a natural little valley.
At the bottom in the valley was thick, lush, green
grass the little rodents liked so much. The Mesas
were a couple hundred feet high making our trek up
to higher ground for set up with gear in hand a little
time consuming. When we got up high enough to
"command" the entire valley we sat back and opened
a cold one to just enjoy the view. We had found a nice
flat little area on top to call our snipers nest and we
felt good about our labored hike up the side.
Two out of shape guys, one 50 and the other 61, it was
no small feat for us and although exhausted we felt good.
As we sat there feeling like Kings in the warm July
Sun my buddy quipped that we must be the only
living souls within 20 square miles. Other than
a car or truck scooting by once every 15 minutes
or so on lonely road 16 just a quarter mile away
there was no movement, no noise, hardly even a
breeze this area was so notable for.
We glassed the dog town and there were plenty of
"targets of opportunity" scurrying around the valley
floor.
We had just got our bipods extended and set up prone
behind our rifles for some friendly spotting and shooting
as a team when we hear a voice say, Hi.
Looking up we see a small Indian man 65 to 70
years old standing there right behind us with a grin on his face.
Turns out he had a place just down the back side of the Mesa
on which we had set up on.
We sat and talked with this gentleman for hours that warm
afternoon. And although he seemed to have a real affliction
towards our Beer and my buddies Cigarettes, we didn't
mind sharing in exchange for his knowledge of the local
area and peoples.
We shot a few dogs that day but we will never forget being
surprised that day by Mr. Stanley LittleFeather.
We always look up old Stanley every time we return just
to spend a little time joking around and catching up.
And we always bring extra Beer and smokes.
Chuck
OP
keith44spl
Member
One Last Run.....For the Holidays
Wishing all a very Happy New Year
.
Wishing all a very Happy New Year
.
Abbynormal
Member
Speakin' of wimmen on hunting trips. I once took a group of "Hollywood folks" antelope huntin' on the ranch.
Spotted some goats a couple of miles away headin' north. We drove to a hill point where I thought the critters might pass in time. When we arrived, we got out and crawled up a little pass to where I thought they might get some shootin'.
Well, we met those antelope head on. Those goats went right between us and those clowns opened fire at less than 25 yards.
I hit the deck to avoid the cross-fire. When the ruckus was over they had knocked down three head within 50 yards of us.
They started dressing out their game. I noticed another one down about 150 yards away. I said I would go see what was what. Well this fine lookin' blonde that "belonged" to one of those fellers that claimed he was a director or something, tagged along with me.
The goat was dead, so I started dressing it out.. The blonde said "My it's hot out here!" I din't pay no attention I was busy with blood and guts.
When I paused for a moment, I discovered the "starlet" had ditched her blouse and bra.
Now this might seem like a neat deal, but when you're 18 years old and your sittin' out there on the prairie next to some feller's gal and she is topless and he is settin 150 yards away with a scoped rifle, the "pucker factor" plumb ruins the moment.
I durn near cut my thumb off tryin' whilst carefully not lookin' at anything but the goat I was workin' on. I finished the job and said we needed to get back over there to help those fellers with their goats.
She finally put her stuff away and we went back to where they was still butcherin', and never a word was said.
I din't quite calm down until them folks was loaded up and gone.
Now I kinda wish I had paid a wee bit more attention to what was going on around me. I do remember that the panorama out there on the Wyoming prairie sure was spectacular that day.
In situations like this, you gotta provide photos. or it's hearsay!
Abbynormal
Member
Charlie,
H'yar ya go!!
Is that what you wanted?
Those ain't the one's ya talked about!
I've mentioned this to Dave before, but I'll share it with the rest of you folks. I first read "Tall Tales and Steep Trails" over five years ago when I happened to come across this forum by accident. I enjoyed reading it so much, along with some of Dave's other tales, that I decided to join the forum.
Yep, that was five years ago and I still enjoy re-reading Dave's stories. From one old packer to another, keep 'em comin', Dave. I just wish I had your talent for spinnin' a yarn. You do good work, pard.
Yep, that was five years ago and I still enjoy re-reading Dave's stories. From one old packer to another, keep 'em comin', Dave. I just wish I had your talent for spinnin' a yarn. You do good work, pard.
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OP
keith44spl
Member
Chip,
The feller on the left by the fire in one of those pictures...
He called me one Sunday morning early saying, "Catch yur ol cow pony,
they's having a roping and pinnin' with an added jackpot this afternoon. I'm sure we can win a bit."
We arrive at the arena, unload our horses and get saddled'd up.
Ride over toward the entry window. Two fellers are lookin' us
over purty good and one sez, "You boys look like 'real' cowboys!"
I take a slow look around and reply,
"You talkin' to us mister? We're not 'cowboys'....We're Packers!"
Oh, we did win a bit of foldin' money
.
The feller on the left by the fire in one of those pictures...
He called me one Sunday morning early saying, "Catch yur ol cow pony,
they's having a roping and pinnin' with an added jackpot this afternoon. I'm sure we can win a bit."
We arrive at the arena, unload our horses and get saddled'd up.
Ride over toward the entry window. Two fellers are lookin' us
over purty good and one sez, "You boys look like 'real' cowboys!"
I take a slow look around and reply,
"You talkin' to us mister? We're not 'cowboys'....We're Packers!"
Oh, we did win a bit of foldin' money
.
We're not 'cowboys'....We're Packers!"
Dave, I know exactly what you're talking about. Although I did cowboy for several years, I always tell people that I'm not a cowboy. I'm a packer.
However, my dear sweet wife, Ms. Judy, still thinks I'm a cowboy, and my kids think I'm a cowboy, and my grandkids think I'm a cowboy. I'm kinda glad I have 'em fooled, but I have too much respect for that profession to ever consider myself a real cowboy.
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