Pinch Me
by Griz Turner

reprinted from the Trail Rider Jan/Feb 2001

My eyes opened and I wondered where I was. The alarm clock beeped and I couldn't turn it off quick enough. It was 2:30 a.m. on an August morning, it was pack-out day for a ten day wilderness pack trip and we had a lot of work to do before our five guests arrived from town.

We had 20 head to saddle and all of the groceries and gear to load before my wrangler, Grant, and I would head to the trailhead that was 50 miles up the South Fork. Once we reached the trailhead, we would begin throwing on base loads and get the horses and mules ready for our first day on the trail on our first camp, some six hours up the spectacular South fork of the Shoshone river.

My wife, Karla, showed up around 7:30 with our five guests, who were more like good friends as three of them have been on several trips with us before. We had big hugs and greetings and threw their duffel on the pack animals and were shortly on our way.

This particular trip was one of my personal favorites as we would be making about a 100 mile loop through some of the most wild, beautiful and untouched country on earth. A wilderness-pack trip to me is a time of peace. Every step up the mountain trail clears my mind of the small things that seem so big in town. I begin feeling again like I am a part of the natural world instead of a spectator. My nickname is Griz, that is a long story. I've been a full time wilderness guide for going on 17 years. Every morning when I wake up in the Rockies, miles from the nearest modern convenience, I have to pinch myself. How could anyone be this lucky?

When I think of a horseback pack trip, I think of history; the brave, the lonely men that saw this country long before me. I think of the morning fire and how a whiff of it's smoke sends my mind to thinking of the great people I've shared fires with, the fun we've had and the stories we've shared. I look out at the horses and mules, their bells tinkling in the predawn as they eat.

I look at each animal, as they all have different personalities, but they mold together to make my string. I'm proud of my animals. They work as hard as any I've known. They have their little quirks, but we work around them. They have never let me down in rough country, and I won't let them down in their rough years. To me, the horses and mules make the trip. Our are a little spoiled, but it makes them easy to catch. Every night when we are sitting around the campfire, they come, beg, entertain. We always keep plenty of cubes or grain around, and they know it.

It is fun to watch the guests. At first their minds are tangled with work, commitments, bills, and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Some unwind in hours, and some unwind in days. I never really feel I know a guest until the second or third day when, like a horse, you see that look in their eyes, a calm look. Then the campfire chats get wild and the feeling of friendship takes over.

I love seeing our herd work in the high country. Loads tightly fastened, hard bodied horses and mules maneuvering the 10 and 11,000 feet passes, guests gaining confidence in their steeds as they muscle their way from one beautiful vista to another... high alpine basins, beautiful valleys where native trout infest the beautiful streams and rivers.

I sit proud pulling my eight mules, taking it all in. The smell of the pine, leather, horses, summer snow field, and the mountains themselves. I spot the bear, the elk, bighorn sheep, deer and all of the little critters that live amongst us here.

As we wind our way down towards the road on the last day of our beautiful ten days in the wilderness, you can see in all of our guests' eyes a change from peace, wonder, and exhilaration back to commitment and all we need to do when we hit the valley floor.

One thing is for sure, no one can take the memories. The challenge of coming over the head waters of the Yellowstone down through Mangus Basin. The big silvertip grizzly that welcomed us to the Thorofare 100 yards off of the trail. The elk in their summer range. The bighorn sheep that watched us pass with wonder. We caught native trout as the Indians did 1000 years ago before us. Yep, we even ate some.

We rode, we camped, we lived with our horses. We laughed. Unfortunately we talked politics, and then we laughed some more. I love my guests, most become great friends. We've shared things that only a very few have shared. But they're the reason I make my living in heaven . For that I thank them all. Come next summer, you know where we will be headed... to the high country.