Packing Like the Mountain Men
A pack trip in Wyoming’s Bridger-Teton National Forest.
Categories: Trail Rider
By: Darley Newman 03/01/2008
America’s national forests are treasures for riders, with wide-open spaces rich in wildlife and striking natural surroundings.
Covering more than 3.4 million acres, an area about the size of the state of Connecticut, the vast Bridger-Teton National Forest is best conquered on a pack trip. Horses are the preferred mode to reach the forest’s remote destinations, allowing people of all ages and athletic abilities to experience these wonders while following in the footsteps of trail-blazing Mountain Men.
Only 20 minutes from downtown Jackson Hole, Wyoming, our crew met early in the morning for a trip into the Bridger-Teton National Forest through Jackson Hole Horse Pack Fishing Trips. This company’s trips are popular because riders have the option to pack out for as little as one night and experience fly-fishing, hiking and riding from a comfortable base camp. This short venture is great for those of you who want to try “roughing it,” but yet you may not have a lot of time or you want to combine riding with other pursuits in Jackson Hole.
Dale Clark, whose gruff voice sounds like actor Sam Elliott’s, and his wife Carole were our guides. Dale pleasingly shares tales about the land and its history, and stories of his hunting expeditions. Dale is sort of a modern-day Mountain Man, our very own Jim Bridger to lead us through the forest.
After all, the Bridger-Teton is named for the famous Mountain Man, trapper and explorer. Bridger, an imposing man, shared stories of the natural wonders of the West that he gazed upon during his fur trapping ventures, stories which were taken back East to skeptical audiences.
When Jackson Hole was a bustling crossroad for the fur trade, explorers and trappers, including Bill Sublette, Kit Carson and Jedediah Smith, frequented this area of western Wyoming. Today, the city is surrounded on three sides by the Bridger-Teton National Forest. Our “Conservation President,”?Teddy Roosevelt, established the forest in 1911.
Riding through this vast area is a true adventure. The Bridger-Teton boasts seven of the largest glaciers outside of Alaska, approximately 1,500 lakes and many endangered and threatened species, including the bald eagle. At the beginning of our trip, a bald eagle flew relatively close to us. I froze, not wanting to disrupt the eagle, and also in amazement at how large and majestic it looks in real life. Golden eagles also nest in the park.
The approximately 10-mile ride to the campsite at Willow Creek would usually take a couple of hours. Our group was a bit slower. We couldn’t help but stop every few minutes to look at something—the sunlight shining through a colony of Aspen trees, a deer tiptoeing above us in the soft grassy hills or the tree-covered mountains surrounding us. Dale would tell us that we should keep moving, because the next view was even better, but to us, non-natives of the area, everything seemed to be new and special.
We rode through one valley that looked up in the distance to a large canyon. The valley had the remnants of a cabin left over from the original homesteaders who may have picked this spot for, among other reasons, its stellar views.
We traversed meadows of wild flowers, caught by the colors of the deep red
of the Indian Paint Brush, Wyoming’s
state flower. We took our time to let our horses drink in the cool waters of a rocky stream, while we breathed in the sweet air. Each and every stop was well worth it, especially Dale’s favorite.
We came around the bend of a canyon and caught a first glimpse of his favorite spot,?a large valley meadow. Backed by canyons, delicate orange flowers lined the streams that cut through the valley leading to tree-covered mountains jutting up to puffy clouds in the big blue sky in the distance.
The greater picture itself was awe-inspiring, but as I attempted not to let Jack, my laid back, yet well-conditioned dun colored horse—part Quarter Horse and part draft—eat the tall grass that lined the trail through the valley, I noticed much more. It wasn’t just that the valley was picturesque; it was how small we seemed as we passed through it. I can only imagine the rugged Mountain Men of long ago, taking in these same scenes for the first time and how nature must have humbled even them.
By the time we reached our campsite, all of us were definitely ready to stretch our legs. Another family was already at the site, and had been for a few days, taking horseback rides out from camp, hiking, fishing and cooking hot dogs by the fire.
As I watched them fly-fish down at the waters of Willow Creek, I thought about how good that trout would taste fried over the fire, and how lucky I was to be on yet another Western adventure.
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