Trail Horses Of THE WEST
New Mexico

One of the great experiences and challenges in my life was being a Big Game Outfitter operation in a Wilderness area of Northwest Wyoming. I refer to that experience in my “History and Breed” section of my website. One of my biggest challenges of being an outfitter was finding a decent and reliable cook. Now I had success in hiring and retaining guides, packers and wranglers, but finding a cook that could cook was something I didn’t have the good fortune of finding. Well, I did find one good cook but he was an even better guide so I assigned him to that duty. Months before the start of one of my fall outfitting seasons I advertised in about ever outdoor magazine imaginable, looking for an experienced camp cook. When you are looking for someone to live in a tent in the wilderness with the highest concentration of Grizzly Bears in the lower 48 for three months with no days off or time to go to town, the number of applicants that apply for such a job diminishes rapidly. Well, one day a fellow from Florida phoned me and said he was an old military man and had done some cooking. He said he wasn’t a gourmet cook but could cook some plain ‘old traditional meals. Nothing fancy was exactly what I was looking for so we agreed upon a compensation plan that included taking he and his wife elk hunting. By the end of August my new cook and his dog arrived in Cody, Wyoming. The rest of my staff, guides, packers and wranglers were already in the Bridger-Teton Wilderness, setting up camp. My new cook and I proceeded to buy more groceries and pack up his cloths and belongings he’d need for the next three months and ride into camp also.

Upon arriving in camp it was immediately apparent that my new cook knew nothing about cooking for a group and was maxed out by just cooking one item at a time. Yes, cook the meat and set aside. Cook the potatoes and set aside. Cook vegetables and set aside. Yes, you guessed it! If we were lucky we had one item that was hot or warm and the other items served that night were ice cold! No matter how much my guide with cooking experience and myself worked with this man, we could not get him to change his ways! I joined in as often as I could and once put some bacon on a woodstove to at least keep it warm when my cook’s dog managed to grab and eat half of that. By now the whole camp was calling our cook the “No cook, cook!” Several times during the course of the season a client or guide would offer to cook and I would take the No cook-cook out hunting. I have to tell you that this man voice sounded exactly like the late Harry Reasonor but his height and appearance was a double for Elmer Fudd. On several occasions we rode our horse right into the middle of a herd of elk. I had instructed the No cook-cook that if this ever occurred to just grab his rifle out of the scabbard and try and find an elk to shoot. Don’t worry about your horse, I would tell him. I am going to stay saddled and will catch your horse if he happens to run off a short distance when the rifle goes off. Each time we encountered elk while riding, Elmer, or I mean the No cook-cook would slowly dismount, grab his rifle and start stumping around like Elmer Fudd looking for Wascal Wabbit! I quickly came to the conclusion that this guy couldn’t see worth beans but the amazing thing was that the elk always just seemed to stop and stare at this unusual little man! One time a nice bull was only 40 yards from the No cook-cook. The No cook-cook of course didn’t see the elk and I couldn’t say a word! All I could do was stay motionless, even though I wanted to shout out….”He is right there!!!!” This type of events went on most of the season until one day an elk just about ran him over and he was able to connect.

The food never got any better as long as the No cook-cook was cooking. When I could, I’d jump in and do some meals. I am not a gourmet cook either but I can cook roast, steaks, baked and fried chicken, spaghetti, and ham AND serve it all hot! I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was about the quality of food that was coming out of my camp with my name on it. It was common that I rode out of camp and back to Cody for a variety of reasons during the course of a hunt period. On once such return trip into camp, I decided I would come in on the Deer Creek trail instead of the Isahwa trail I usually used.

Dinner at my outfitters friend’s place was delightful. I even had warm bread pudding to top off the meal. I felt a little guilty about enjoying such a great meal when my clients and staff were suffering through cold potatoes and Oreo’s for desert. I tipped the cook well and hoped that on another day I could be lucky enough to be invited again.

I hoped you enjoyed reading just a glimpse of what it is like being a wilderness outfitter. I thank God that I was given the opportunity to now just work with horses. No longer any Olive Oyls, or Elmer Fudd’s in my world!

Ornery

I don’t believe there is a person in the world that doesn’t get a little ornery every once in a while. In fact, being ornery occasionally might be good for the soul. 

A few months back I had a day where I felt a little ornery. Got up and the coffee just tasted so-so. The sunrise was rather ordinary and my motivation was definitely lacking! Maybe the underwear I picked to wear that morning fit a little too tight? 

I had an appointment to show horses to a fella and his wife. Said they were from New England but had just bought a ranch in Colorado and wanted two good trail horses. I was waiting in the barn with my former partner when they drove up in shiny new BMW. The couple got out of their vehicle and started to walk up to the front entrance of our house. 

I yelled out, “ We keep the horses in the barn.” 

The couple turned around and started walking towards me. As they approached the barn, I couldn’t help but notice what the fella was wearing; pleated and cuffed pants without a wrinkle in them and a sweater tied around his neck that draped off his back. 

I turned to my partner and said, “Best go rustle up some tea & crumpets!” Now I don’t know about you but this sweater thing just doesn’t look very masculine to me. 

After the introductions were made I said, “Is that a Pontiac?” You know how the grills of a BMW and a Pontiac look similar? I also knew damned good and well that BMW drivers want everyone to know what they are driving, and a Pontiac is way below their standards. 

“No,” the fella replied! “That is a Bimmer!” 

“Beamer” I questioned. “You mean a high beamer?” 

“No,” he replied. “BriTISH MOtor WORKS!” 

“Never heard of them. Guess if it doesn’t pull a gooseneck, I wouldn’t know about them. Pretty fancy automobile to be getting into with your riding boots on after being around horses,” I said. 

He replied, “We remove our boots after we are done riding.” 

“Oh, yeah, know what ya mean,” I said. “At the end of the day I come into the house, turn on the TV and put my feet up, have a few beers and sometimes fall asleep. My girlfriend removes my boots then too!” 

The fella gave me a disgusted look and said, “Let’s look at your horses!” 

I approached the first stall and said, “This is Nitro.” 

“Nitro,” the fella said, “Must be a fast horse with a name like that!” 

“Yep,” I replied. “Could have easily won the Kentucky Derby but just couldn’t get them little jockey fella’s to stay on him. Every time Nitro would get up to full speed those little guys just blew right on off! Takes a big fella to stay on him,” I said. “Say, you are a pretty good size fella, want to try him?” 

“No, no. Who is this?” he questioned as he walked to the next stall. 

“Mach II,” I replied! 

He quickly walked to the next stall and asked who that one was. I politely told him that was Maxine and he asked me to bring her out for a closer look. After looking at several different horses and narrowing the possibilities down to three, we all saddled up and went for a good hour and a half trail ride. 

After riding with this nice couple, I was feeling a little bad about how I had been acting. Much to my delight, the couple said they’d take Maxine and Top Gun and we headed to my office to do the paperwork. 

I sat down at my computer and started to process the paperwork while the New Englander stood intently in front of my “I Love Me Wall”, looking at all of the framed photographs I had hanging on it. There was a photograph of my ex-wife and myself standing in front of Bob and Delores Hope’s Palm Springs home after a personal invitation from Mrs. Hope. There was a photo taken by a flight attendant of the late Jimmy Stewart and me in First Class, toasting our new friendship on a Northwest flight from Los Angels to Minneapolis. Another photo showed me standing at the podium of the Tokyo Imperial Palace Hotel, addressing a group of about five hundred people. Another photo was of me in front of my office on Pennsylvania Ave. in Washington, D.C. Another photo was of my buddies and me standing on the sidelines of Super Bowl XIV. There were various hunting and fishing photos taken around the world including Africa, Russia, Australia and New Zealand. One of the photos was of Coach Bob Knight, his wife Karen and me, in front of a Russian helicopter we were about to board on our way to an exclusive Russian hunting and fishing lodge. As my client intensely studied these photographs, I sensed what was coming next. 

With a most confused but serious look on the man’s face he said, “I think you have been having a lot of fun at my expense!” 

Now, my big mouth that was working so well only a few moments earlier could only stutter, “I, I, I, I, well, well, well…”

The fella interrupted and said, “That’s okay; my wife just recently told me I was starting to get a little stuffy. You apparently think so too!” 

“I, I, I, I, well, well, well,” I again repeated. 

“Maybe you just did me a favor,” the fella said as he began to sign the purchase contracts.

Strangely enough, I became good friends with this really nice couple. They’ve invited me several times to their beautiful ranch and to this day, we often ride together. Since the day I met this fella though, he has always worn a western shirt and jeans and I pay a lot more attention to the underwear I put on in the morning! 

Ornery Fred

Seagull

A lady trainer from Denver phoned me and said she had a client looking for a horse. Now this trainer had brought several clients to me before and I always enjoyed working with her. She pointedly stated that her client this time was a large woman, and really needed a stout, well-built, smooth-riding and quiet horse. My first thought was Seagull! Seagull was purchased by Trail Horses Of THE WEST as a yearling, and was started under saddle on my ranch. To be honest, I was fond of Seagull so he wasn’t listed on my website but he came to mind as a perfect fit for a large person and I decided to show him. 

I had ol’ Seagull saddled up and waiting when my trainer friend and her client pulled into the ranch yard. Out of the vehicle stepped the largest, light yellow sweatsuit I have ever seen! Besides being large, the woman (I don’t know how to say this any other way) looked like she had her butt on backwards! I turned to my staff person and said, “Make sure you have this lady sign TWO Liability Releases. I’ll put them in the safe.” I didn’t feel good about a person this large trying to ride a horse but didn’t think I could tell her no for several reasons. Besides, my trainer friend had to have had her on a horse if she thought she wanted to buy one, so, I decided to see what happened and kept my fingers crossed!

As is our usual procedure we rode Seagull for the client and her trainer, then the trainer rode Seagull. I knew she would like Seagull and she recommended that her client try him. Anticipating the client’s needs, I had my three-step mounting block ready and in place. No one had to hold Seagull and he patiently stood motionless as the big, yellow sweatsuit lady, now wearing a dark brown riding helmet with a little tuft on the top, got her left foot in the stirrup. With one foot in the stirrup, the lady gave a few jerks upward and…right on over the top she went. KaaaaaaaaSPLAT! A large dust storm came bellowing up around her and Seagull. The sound was like 300 pounds of bread dough being cut loose from a skyhook 20 stories high! Seagull never blinked an eye. 

I quickly ran around to the other side of Seagull and much to my amazement, I found movement! But suddenly the movement stopped and I realized I was witnessing the Jell-O effect! The lady in the yellow sweatsuit now looked more like a giant sugar cookie, with the brown helmet resembling a chocolate chip on top. I wanted to help the lady but I couldn’t identify any body parts and I wasn’t going to reach in there and start grabb’n stuff! I thought to myself, “I’ve just had my first fatality in the horse business!” 

Still in disbelief, the large lady stood up. She brushed herself off and said, “I think he is a little too much horse for me!” At that moment, Seagull, who hadn’t moved a muscle through this whole encounter, turned his head around and rolled both eyes back into his eye sockets and then turned his head back again. I thanked the woman and suggested that maybe we should try again another day!

The trainer called a few weeks later and said the yellow sweatsuit lady decided that horses were not her thing and I breathed a sigh of relief!

Muy Grande and Cowboy Frrrrred!

One of the most memorable places of the world in my mind is the beautiful Sonora Desert of Northern Mexico. Cactus of every shape and size exist here, and so does an elusive animal called the Desert Mule Deer. This visit to Sonora came about when I was asked to do some scouting for some deep-pocket client hunters who wanted me to go ahead and see if I could find Muy Grande for them. Muy Grande is a large buck with sometimes antlers spreading up to 38” wide. Sure why not? Get paid well spending the month of January in short sleeve shirts, doing what I like to do? You bet! My partner was JR, another well known big game hunter and guide from Wyoming.

Upon our arrival in Hermosillo, we were met by the landowner of several large ranches my hunters were going to hunt on. He suggested we get some supplies since we would be miles from any stores. He also said we need get some Baca Dora before we leave town. “Baca Dora?” “Yes, amigo,” he replied. This is the drink of Sonora. Clear liquor made from cactus….drank similar to Tequila with salt and lime. Okay, when in Rome do as the Roman’s do—Right? 

We all pushed a shopping cart through the isles of a large indoor market, throwing everything we thought we could use and a little extra, for the caballeros and their families who were going to be working cattle on the ranch we were going to scout and hunt on. As we passed the liquor department I noticed this display of Baca Dora. JR and I were anxious to learn about the drink of Sonora and started to read the label which said, “THE MEXICAN GOVERNMENT HAS DETERMINED THIS PRODUCT CAN DESTROY BRAIN CELLS-------DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!” JR and I looked at each other and thought, “What the hell, we’re not at home,” and placed a couple of bottles in our cart. The brain cell part didn’t dawn on either of us for some reason? Perhaps one could argue that you have to have brain cells in order to destroy them! Think? Moments later our landowner host came over to our cart and looked at the two Baca Dora bottles. “Oh no Seniors, we will stop on the way out of town and pick up some of this home made….., much better and stronger than this store bought Baca Dora!” Stronger than the brain cell-killing stuff in the store, I thought? 

When the three carts were full of fresh fruits, vegetable, eggs, bottled water, a case or two of Cerveza, and plenty of good Sonora beef we were off with just a few more stops for fuel, ice and of course the real Baca Dora. JR and I were excited to see our accommodations and the ranch we would to call home for the next month. Once we arrived at the ranch we were certain our stay was going to be special. The people of Sonora are the most gracious folks I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with. The caballeros, the cook and their families all lined up to greet JR and me. Our bags were delivered to a modern ranch house that was for the exclusive use of the scouts and hunters. 

A fire was already built in the front yard and JR and I quickly joined our new friends and neighbors around the fire for some more hospitality and fresh shrimp. Yes, shrimp. The Sea of Cortez was only a few miles from the ranch and a fisherman stopped by the ranch to deliver us some recently caught jumbo shrimp. It was particularly interesting to be standing in the desert and eating fresh seafood. One of the wives presented us with a round block of white cheese that was delicious. She, no doubt, got the milk from one of the ranch cows and made it in her modest kitchen. 

For me personally, this is why I came to Sonora. To experience a different culture, taste different foods and drinks as well as meet new friends. Even though everyone else but the landowner didn’t speak English, JR and I were communicating and having the time of our life. It wasn’t long and out came the Baca Dora jug. You know the kind, with a finger hole and minus any labels. Cups or glasses were nowhere in sight so we just passed the jug to each man standing around the campfire. When my turn came I hoisted the big jug up and took what I thought was a man sized gulp! Mamma Mia! The back of my neck felt like someone had put a lit blow torch on it. “Oh Boy,” I said, “That’s good!” I then passed the jug to the next guy and started to look for a place to sit down. 

After a few more passes around the fire, I noticed the lack of dental work or maybe I should say teeth, on my new drinking partners. Now please don’t write me and accuse me of being prejudiced because I am not at all! The fact of the matter is that these Sonora cowboys make very little wages and seldom leave their assigned ranch. Anyway, if there was a tooth in my new friends’ mouths, you can be sure that it hadn’t seen a toothbrush in years…..and besides, if the Baca Dora can kill brain cells, it certainly can kill a few germs. Sure, I’ll have another swig!

Morning came real early. You know you have had a short night's sleep when you wake up, put your boots on and they are still warm! My head was pounding and fresh brewed coffee and orange juice wasn’t helping a bit! Manuel was to be our driver that morning and off JR and I went with binoculars in hand to a high point on the ranch.

With head steadily pounding, I spotted some señoritas and bambinos but no Muy Grande. I knew if Muy Grande was on the ranch, he wouldn’t be far from the girls, as it was what we call the 'rut' or 'mating season'. After the sun was up for about two hours, the elusive Desert Mule Deer finds a place in the shade for the day, and scouts with pounding heads go take siesta. 

“Buenos Días,” the cook said to me as I slowly dragged myself towards the ranch house and my bed. “Buenos días,” I replied. The cook pointed to his watch and held up one finger. Lunch in one hour. Perfect! Alka Selzer, an hour siesta and I’ll be ready to see more of Sonora, I thought to myself.

Lunch was cooked and served outside and again it was delicious! During lunch the cowboys made hand signs that I understood to be an invitation to join them in moving some cattle. JR opted to take another siesta but I was more than ready to accept the invitation.

The cowboys pointed to a big Bay horse for me. El Capitán, they announced several times…El Capitán! I went to the corrals and walked up to El Capitán. He just stood there like I would have expected a working horse do to. On the top rail of the corral were a line of saddles and I pointed to one that looked like it would fit me. The cowboys nodded their heads in agreement and I said much obliges.

I saddled up my new mount and grabbed a bridle hanging on a post. El Capitán was looking like he was going to fall asleep and I figured that was because he had been through this so many times in the past. As I stuck one foot in the stirrup, the cook came a running shouting “Caliente, caliente!” Not understanding Spanish, I thought he was offering me words of encouragement and I was a saying, “Gracias, senior, gracias.” I had no idea the word caliente meant HOT! El Capitán stood perfectly still until I got my other foot in the stirrup, then - in one motion, he was heading for the sun and running full speed as he bucked what felt as high as the sky. I thought to myself, “This ain’t workin’ out so good!” 

One thing that was in my favor was my bucking horse was heading right down a sendero. I looked to my left for a place to bale-----Thorns and stickers the size of jack knife blades were everywhere. I quickly looked to my right and same thing! Holdin’ on as best I could I noticed I was getting into a rhythm, and each buck was slightly less than the one before. I just let El Capitán keep right on a rollin’, and pretty soon he ran himself right out of the buck. Finally my horse was just walking and I turned him around and headed back to the spectators. “Vámonos, amigos,” I said using two of the ten words I only knew in Spanish. I should have known more Spanish words than that, having once been married to a Spanish teacher but in all honesty, we hardly ever even spoke in English, much less attempting Spanish. 

My new friends were now shouting, “Cowboy Frrrrred-Cowboy Frrrred!”and slapping me on the back. “We must celebrate----El Capitán has been ridden!” In a flash, the Baca Dora bottle appeared and one of the cowboys backed up his pickup and opened up the doors and turned the radio on full blast. Husbands and wives were swing dancing as their kids clapped and joined in. “Cowboy Frrrrred-Cowboy Frrrrred!”

For a short time in history, I was the Sonora hero but only because of thorns and stickers. In truth, the bucking horse event was one reason to celebrate and the other was an excuse to do so with Senior Baca Dora present.

A one time encounter with El Capitán and Baca Dora. My celebration that day was a the enjoyment of watching the true happiness of the ranch families, a campfire, steak and shrimp, all served beneath the beautiful Sonora Sunset.

Cowboy Frrrrred

The Story of SLIM

Slim grew up on the western prairie of South Dakota. He was the son of hard working farmers who, in those days, farmed with horses and whose children went to a one-room school. When I met Slim, he was already well into his late seventies. Tall as his name would imply, as was his build. He was a pleasant looking man but he had a long drooping nose that appeared to have no cartilage in it. When Slim turned his head and then stopped, the motion of his nose didn’t! It wiggled! 

Slim married a local gal and moved to the city, where he became a tailor and worked in a fine men’s store for over 30 years. By the time I met Slim he was semi-retired, taking in occasional tailoring work in his home. It was an instant friendship and I admired the love for his wife that he outwardly showed, and his humor. It wasn’t long before we found a common interest in fishing. I happened to own a boat and I invited Slim for a days fishing at a nearby reservoir. Well, you’d a thought I had taken Slim on a Canadian fly-in fishing trip, the way he expressed himself over the day’s outing. I quickly learned that Slim could see the best in everything and he constantly pointed out sights that most folks would have never seen; the blue water of the lake, sun shining through the clouds, apple trees in bloom or maybe a pretty lady jogging with her dog. Slim saw it all!

I also owned horses and had been riding up into the high-country and catching beautiful cutthroat trout on about every other cast from shore. These high-country fishing trips were overnighters, and reports to Slim about my horseback fishing adventures made his mouth drool!

Slim’s wife, Margaret, had been in bad health since I had met them. One afternoon Slim called to say his wife had passed away and asked if I would be a pallbearer. Days following the funeral, I stopped by Slim’s place and we visited at length. Telling stories seemed to help take his mind off the loss of his long time mate. A week or two after the funeral, a thought occurred to me to ask Slim if he thought he might be able to ride a horse. I had a dandy mare that I guess you could say was a babysitter type. “Slim, do you think if we took some rest stops on the way up the mountain, you could make it to the high-country and fish with me? Could you sleep in a tent and sleeping bag for a night?” Slim’s face lit up like a six-year-old boy on Christmas morning. “Oh Freddy, that would be wonderful,” he answered. (Slim always called me Freddy) I brought Slim out to the ranch and evaluated the possibility of him being in a saddle for three hours or so. To no surprise to me, he showed not one sign of pain or stiffness, and his enthusiasm for the high-county fishing trip was escalating by the minute.

A few days later I loaded the horses, two black and white Spotted Saddle Horses and Festina, my pack mule. As I pulled up to Slim’s house, he was waiting at the door with fishing rod case in hand. We got to the trailhead and quickly packed and saddled our horses and headed out on the trail that hopefully would produce fish and make an old friend one happy man. I have to confess, I’ve never had better company on a trail riding adventure in my entire life! My friend pointed out more beautiful sights than I was ever aware of, even though I had been on the trail many times before; the snow glacier near the peak of the far off mountain, the crystal blue skies, a Stellar’s Jay, Red Squirrel, Bald Eagle, Blue Grouse hen with chicks, Mule Deer doe with twin fawns, tracks, scat, wild flowers and berries. “Freddy, isn’t this something up here?” Slim asked. “Indeed my friend, indeed,” I thought to myself. I knew where I wanted to pitch the tent and put up the Hi-Line for the horses, but I thought I’d seek Slim’s approval. “How is this spot for the night my friend?” “Looks perfect to me Freddy! Let’s unsaddle and turn the horses out to eat while you and I see if we can catch dinner,” Slim replied. Slim was quickly ruffling through his backpack looking for lures so he could make that long awaited cast into the lake he had been thinking about for days. In truth, it didn’t take a great fisherman to catch a fish on this lake. Not on this day anyway. The task of getting to the lake was made possible by good horses and Slim and I were reaping the benefits. Cast after cast we hauled in 12”-15” colorful cutthroat trout. “Release ‘em Slim, we’ll keep a few for dinner later. You keep a fishin’. I am going to put a few beers in the water, make camp and start a fire,” I told him. After I got everything set up, I yelled out to Slim, “Time to catch a few for dinner!” Twenty minutes later, our dinner was delivered by a fellow who looked as proud as a peacock. I cooked as Slim and I enjoyed a few “Cool Ones!” I never heard Slim refer to a beer, as a beer. It was always a “Cool One.” I also don’t ever recall Slim drinking more than three beers in an entire day. He did, however, enjoy his “Cool One” just as much as he enjoyed everything around him. After two or three hours of soaking up the enjoyment of the campfire, as well as the stars and three quarter moon, it was time to turn in.

Morning didn’t come early. Heck, we were on a vacation! The only task we had to complete that day was to have a ball and get back to the trailhead before nightfall. I got up, turned the horses out again to graze, and started a fire and a pot of coffee. I truly believe there isn’t a better cup of coffee in the world than cowboy coffee made on an open fire. I was enjoying my third or fourth cup when I heard Slim begin to move around in the tent. “Ready for a cup of coffee Slim?” I asked. “Oh boy Freddy, that sounds good,” he answered. Waiting a few minutes and no Slim, I asked, “You okay?” “Can’t find my teeth!” he mumbled “What? Where’d ya put ‘em?” I questioned. “I put them in a glass of water when I went to bed,” my friend replied. Glass of water…glass of water, I thought. I don’t remember any glass with water in the tent. The only container I could think of was the coffee pot I had filled with lake water in anticipation of morning coffee. I grabbed a cooking mitten and a long handled spoon and reached for the pot sitting on a flat rock next to the fire. “Slim, you’d better come look!” Yes sirree bob…I had been enjoying my cowboy coffee with Slim’s dentures in it!!! Slim poked his head out of the tent opening and with an expression of relief said, “There they are!” There they are? There they are? Hell's bells, his dentures were browner than the tops of my boots. Slim picked them up and kind of molded them with his fingers and in his mouth they went. “Oh they’re fine,” he proclaimed! The sight of my friend with his long slender nose that wiggled and a dark, brown-toothed smile made me forget all about previously enjoying my denture-brewed coffee. “Got something to clean those babies with Slim?” I asked. “No,” Slim replied, “I forgot to bring my denture cleaner.” “Take ‘em down to the lake and try rubbing them with sand,” I suggested. Well my cowboy coffee had stained the dentures so bad we couldn’t lighten the dark brown color for nothing. Every time Slim opened his mouth I started to laugh. I just couldn’t help it. I told Slim if anyone came along or we met someone on the trail on the way down, he’d have to keep his mouth SHUT! “You’ll scare a person to death!” I said. “Okay Freddy,” Ol’ Slim reluctantly agreed. We finished off the morning by catching a few more trout and frying them along with some eggs and Texas toast. Slim stood quietly watching fish jump on the surface of the lake. I wondered if Slim would see this sight again or if this was his last horseback ride up into the high-country. I tried not to think about what the future might hold but chose to concentrate on what a great time I was having with a true dear friend.

With the horses all packed and saddled I helped my friend mount up, then off down the trail we went with Slim again pointing out every magnificent thing God had created. I turned around in the saddle and reminded Slim not to be showing his big ol’ grin if we met someone before we could make those teeth pearly white again. “I’m serious Slim,” I firmly suggested. Looking up ahead I could see two women hikers who kindly had moved off the trail to let our horses pass. I said good morning and thanked them for their thoughtfulness of stepping off the trail. I also waited and listened for Slim to acknowledge the visitors we just met. A voice from behind me said, “Wello Wadies!” The challenge of Slim greeting our hikers and not giving them a heart attack made me smile from ear to ear. I knew there was no way he could ride past someone without saying Hello!

Not sure what Slim did to get his teeth white again but the high-country horseback fishing trip gave my friend and I, memories we still share with one another. We just don’t do it over a “Cool One” anymore.

The Story of ASPEN aspen

A friend phoned and asked if I was ready for a big ride. Born and set on ready was my reply! My partners are about the same way. Don’t be standing in the way when you ask this group of folks to do something fun or you may get flat run over. We are all in…where we going? Crested Butte to Aspen, overnight in Aspen. “Aspen, Colorado? Where all the Rich & Famous vacation and own their get-away homes, I asked? Movie Star mega! Will they let some weather beaten old cowboys and cowgirls even ride into Celebrityville?” Guess we will find out, my friend replied. I’ll find us a place to stable the horses and nice motel to overnight in, Okay? Well, I went to work and found a nice lady who said she could handle five horses and that there was a lovely hotel next to her place that she would highly recommend for us riders. Got the number and called the lovely hotel. I told the man what we needed and he gave me a price! I chuckled a little and told him I just needed a room for one night. The gentleman on the other end of the line paused a moment and said, “Sir, that IS the rate for ONE NIGHT!” (Long pause) Oh! I guess I felt rich that day so I said, “Alright, here is my credit card number. (Probably why I am not rich because once in a while I feel rich.) The man on the phone taking my reservations said that the Valet will assist me in my transportation needs and just give my name to the Bellman and he will immediately take us to our room, as we are now registered and welcomed. Boy, ain’t this slick, I thought? 

We got into Crested Butte (sometimes referred to as crusty butt) in time for dinner. This beautiful mountain ski town isn’t lacking in high class folks either. Wow, for 1.6 we could buy a comfortable home with a view, the Real Estate book said. Gee wiz, maybe we should get two before the price goes up again, I thought to myself. Anyway we all had a good dinner and turned in early in anticipation of a big ride the next morning. Woke up to rain, but before we got to the West Maroon trailhead the sky’s cleared and off we went towards the pass. 12,490 feet high the map says. All I know is that when we got to the top it looked like United’s Friendly Sky’s were below us. Why the whole world isn’t up taking in this magnificent scenery is a mystery to me. Not only the views from the West Maroon Pass but the entire ride makes Las Vegas look bland in comparison. 

No hitches occurred along the way and we arrived in Aspen just about the time we had planned. Riding through town was a real treat. Some people stopped and stared, while others snapped photos. A few looked discussed about us riding next to Ferreira’s and Royals Royce’s. I have to confess that I was a little tickled when one of our horses marked the Celebrityville street. I could just hear some eccentric rich car buff telling his chaffer to “Just get it off, GET IT OFF!”

As we got near the stables I saw the sign for the lovely hotel we were going to stay at. A little idea went through my brain and I told the others I’d be right back……meet you at the stables, I said as I rode away. I rode my horse Gold Mine right up to a young man in a white shirt standing next to a sign that said, Valet. Jumped off Gold Mine and handed him the reins. I knew this young guy wasn’t going to tell me he couldn’t accommodate my horse. These guys always smile and say yes for their tips depend on it. “Take him over to that pond and give him a drink, then he’d like a little of your green grass”, I told the young fella. “Sir, that is our Gold Fish pond.” Don’t worry I said, my horse doesn’t like Gold Fish, be right back. Dressed in a pair of leather stove pipe chaps that are more worn looking than Willie Nelsons face, a black felt, boots and spurs, I proceeded to enter this lovely establishment. The Bellman approached me and asked if I was checking in? Mr. Mau I proclaimed, but need directions to your saloon first. “Very good Sir,” he said and led me to what he called the lounge. After I ordered a cool one, the bartender asked if I was here on business or vacationing.  Having so much fun with Gold Mine and the fella in Valet, I said business….just doing a little shooting with Bob Duvall for an up coming mini series. “Very good Sir” this guy said too! I was really enjoying this Lovely Hotel. Ever time I said something they replied Very good Sir!” A lot different than back at the ranch when I say something the response is usually, “That’s a dump idea.” The bartender disappeared for a moment then came back and asked if I needed another? Nup, not right now….be back! I went outside to fetch Gold Mine and to my amazement there were at least 50 people taking photos of Gold Mine and then they started snapping photos of me.  Gold Mine was knee deep in the pond bobbing for Goldfish. Within seconds a gentleman came up to me and introduced himself as the lovely hotels General Manager. “Anything you need Mr. Mau just let me now personally” as he handed me his card. Well, you know there is something I could use a hand at, I said. Could you get somebody to follow me over to the stables and bring my crew and I back? With one hand motion a big black limousine started moving in my direction. Much obliges, and off I went down the tree bordered driveway entrance riding Gold Mine with the big black limo in hot pursuit. As I neared the stable my “Crew” was a lookin like “What has the boss man gone and done now?”

Introduced myself to the stable lady and said Gold Mine has already had some grass, water and Gold Fish, but he sure could use some grain. With a puzzled look on her face she took Gold Mine towards the barn all the while mumbling something! Told my “Crew” to jump in…you guys are going to like the lovely hotel!

Well, as my riding mates departed the Black limousine at the hotel front doors, more guests gathered around and it was a picture taking frenzy. My riding mates were dumbfounded by the enormous attention we were getting. My little name dropping at the “lounge” was quickly getting out of hand. What is going on? One of my riding partners asked? Reckon they never seen any real cowboys and cowgirls? I think that is it, I replied kinda sheepishly. About that time the General Manager comes up and says if I don’t mind, he'd like to change my accommodations to their Hollywood suite. By now I couldn’t pull the plug on this deal, so I thought I better ride her out and see where the chips fall later. The General Manager personally escorted us to the Hollywood suite and as he opened the door I could see more fresh cut bouquets of flowers than we have in the local floral shop back home. The suite was bigger than my High School Gymnasium and lights I guess they call, Chandlers!” I took the liberty of having the staff bring you a bottle of our finest champagne” my Ol’ Buddy the GM says.

“Will Mr. Duval be joining you later,” he asked? By now my riding pals had the top off the bottle that was in the silver bucket. (Dom something or other) and I was holding this real pretty glass to my lips trying to buy some time as I kept a drinkin. Yes, I replied but Bob is very private and would request not to make a scene. I may just have Bob come in the back entrance if you don’t mind? Very good Sir the GM replied. Would you care to dine with us tonight in our Main Dining Room? Or would you rather have my chef make you a little something and bring it up? Thinking to myself, if I can keep this going til morning we may get outta here with our scalp! If you wouldn’t mind having your chef make us a little something we’d be most obliged. Long day in the saddle. (Tellin the truth now) By the time we finished the magnum bottle of Dom_ _? We got a knock on the door…must be the chef bringing up some snacks. We open the door and in come three carts with more food and desserts than an army could eat. Compliments of the Lovely Hotel the card said! Eat up guys! This maybe our last supper!

In the morning we were up early for our return ride back to Crusty Butt over the East Maroon trail. I went to the front desk and just like the General Manager said all of the additional charges for the suite and meals were complimentary. In anticipation of the celebrity guest’s transportation needs, the black limo was waiting too. 

No doubt, words spoken in jest can come back and bite a fella, but in this case, the Lovely Hotel felt like they had the pleasure of a film crew and a famous movie star and some old common trail riders experienced a small taste of the world of the Rich and Famous!

Fred C. Mau, is owner of Trail Horses of Colorado

Bicycles

I replied, “I do have a question, where is the motor?”

I figured for $7,000 there has to be something that propels this thing along. Certainly, for $7,000 you don’t have to peddle the damn thing, do you? Fortunately, if you are not planning to compete in the Tour de France, you can buy a bicycle for less. However, not a whole lot less.

We found a couple of bicycles that could be ridden in the mountains as well as on paved surfaces and took them out to the parking lot to ride them around. The seat on my bike wasn’t nearly as wide as the object I’d planned on planting on it.

“OK, let’s get them,” I said!

“Now we need to get accessories,” my girlfriend said.

“Accessories?” I replied. The only accessory my old Montgomery Wards bike had was a basket to carry my coffee can full of worms and my fishing pole. Oh no, come to find out, we also needed fingerless gloves, helmets and riding shorts! Riding shorts?

“Not this cowboy,” I emphatically replied!

“Honey, you need these shorts, they are padded in the right places and protect your parts,” my girlfriend said. Padding on my parts? Now I was a little flattered that my girlfriend was concerned about my parts and maybe she had a good idea.

“Try them on” she insisted, “You’ll find them very comfortable.”

I found some that looked my size and stepped into the changing room. Sure enough, the padding was right where my parts were and it did indeed feel comfortable. I opened the dressing room door to get a look into the full length mirror. The first thing I noticed was that I didn’t exactly look like Lance Armstrong! The more I looked at myself in the mirror, the more I knew I couldn’t wear these padded shorts.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Well, I planned on riding in the country,” I replied.

“So?” she asked.

“So? You expect me to be riding out in the country in these tight little shorts? Haven’t you ever seen the movie Deliverance? Remember that Ned Beatty part? Besides, if my cowboy buddies see me in these things, I’m gonna have to move!”

The exercise was good for me and I still have the bicycle. The shorts? Well, they might be found under my Wranglers.

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