Evolution on Horseback

I think it was the fall of 1990 when it happened.  And maybe it had something to do with age.  I'd been a pretty hard hunter up to that point in time.  And prior to that time in my life I'd always been more than eager to get off my horse and hit the brush on two feet in pursuit of elk.  Many of the big bulls in the area of the Bob Marshall Wilderness, where I did the majority of our big game hunts for clients from all over the world, spent most of their days in the brush and timber along the creek beds and adjacent to avalanche chutes.  In other words, you had to get on foot and dog the heavy stuff with a cow call and bugle in hand sometimes on your hands and knees.  That kind of country doesn't suit being on the back of a horse.  It just doesn't work and futhermore you can hurt a horse taking a high step over timber with protruding stobs capable of opening up your mounts' belly and besides you just don't get too far in the thick stuff.   You'll come to a stop sooner than later.  It's just better to tie off your horse in an opening and use the legs you were given to go find elk.

There's an expansive amount of real good country directly adjacent to a mountain I used to hunt and for one reason or another Bench Mountain always seemed quite a bit drier and more open than so much of the country to the west.  I'd use one of two trails to access Bench and more so than not I'd ride up and over the top of it and hunt so many of the sparsely timbered ridges and basins that were rarely ever seen, much less hunted during the course of a year.  And the neat thing about hunting the high country is you can ride a horse about anywhere and at the same time see half the world from where ever you are and even better yet, still find an occasional bull.  Plus, the buck hunting up high is phenomenal.   And the sun shines! 

Being horseback up in the high country and riding big country mile after mile is one of this world's greatest feelings, probably the second best.  I loved just riding, cruising the alpine country at or even above timberline.  My hunting success suffered some although with some hard work I could usually find a bull or so for a client and if worse came to worse we could find mule deer in the rimrock or pocket timber.  Nevertheless, I began to recognize that my days of scratching and clawing my way through thick timber and alder thickets were over.  Enough of that. 

I got to the point within a very short time when I began to bring three horses into camp for an eight day hunt, just for myself.  A man has got to be riding a good horse all the time and if you've got access to three ponies well then all the better.  We rode 17 miles just to get to camp and each day after that was about that tough combined with the up and down nature of the riding in rugged country.  So I'd normally put two days on a horse and then switch off to a fresh mount.  That worked pretty good. 

The other thing that began to occur in the early 90's was I'd developed a real passion for roping.  I got the roping bug pretty bad.  Now believe me when I tell you that when that particular bug hits you there's some serious ramifications that occur, like buying rope horses for example.  A good friend once told me that I'd never seen a horse I didn't want.   And there was some truth to that statement.  So as you can probably imagine that is exactly what I did.  Buy rope horses that is.  And rope horses aren't cheap, even the bad ones!  I got in a little bit over my head but then again, I surely enjoy riding the good ones.  Still do!  The rest of the outfit were riding the big boned grade stock we used in the backcountry and I rode fancy rope horses.

I even remember the epiphany of sorts I had riding the Bench Mountain trail one fine Autmn Day.   Myself and a fine gentleman from Pennsylvania had filled his tags for elk and deer and with the pressure off we were just cruising the country, sun out, sky blue, nothing but rugged peaks and far away ridges in sight, and above all, riding good horses.  Old Doc didn't know what he was riding but he was happy.  And I was riding "Pos", or as his papers said, Positivio Bar something or another.  In any case, a registered quarter horse and one fine looking animal.  Pos could rope on both ends, barrel race, and rode like a champ in the backcountry.  I think at that particular moment that day I recognized that the biggest pleasures I'd begun to have were simply riding a good horse in good country.  The hunting itself had become less of a priority and as I think back on it the riding had become my greatest joy. 

During the course of our lives most of us take a different curve in the road every so often.  I did.  I was blessed for a long period of time with two separate hunting concessions in one of the most spectacular wilderness areas in the lower 48, that being the Bob Marshall Wilderness.  Those days were precious and my memories are long.  But as I've alluded, after twenty years my passion for that life in the mountains waned.  Operating a big game outfitting business in the wilderness is a tough go and a young man's game.  The flip side of that coin is we've replaced the hunts with real good riding in easier but no less spectacular country.  Our ranch is completely surrounded by mountains and we still do our occasional slow ride in the tough country just to the south but we also trailer our horses to the foothills and the rolling praire to the east of us.  Our Riding the Four Winds adventure allows us to ride in four different locations from the mountains to the foothills to the high plains of northern Montana and then even finish off the week moving cattle for two days.  How can you beat that?

Probably one of our greatest thrills is moving our operation to the Rumney Ranch on the Milk River up near the Canadian border.  We join up with Beau and Suzy and their outfit and help them move a couple thousand head of cattle over the course of the week.  Nothing but fun.  We visit, eat together, and get the job done. And talk about riding good horses.  Between our horses and theirs we're riding some real good stuff.   And moving cattle in some of the greatest country you'll ever see.  At this point in my life it doesn't get any better. 

As I write this piece in my office I'm looking out at several feet of snow and I can't help but think of the horses we'll be working with this Spring once the snow has melted and the temperature has risen substantially.   We've got a round pen adjacent to the corrals and a sandy riding arena not one hundred yards from where I'm sitting now.  The common thread to everything you've read and everything we'll be part of as we move forward are the horses we're riding and now and the horses we've ridden in the past.  They're a big part of our history and will be a big part of our future.  Thank God for horses!