Thursday, July 2, 1998.
Baldy Camp to Puablano.

Thursday, July 2, 1998. Baldy Camp to Puablano.
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As noted above, our Cavalcade itinerary required us to follow a loop which would begin and end at Ponil Camp. Until today, we had been moving progressively farther away from Ponil as we also ascended higher into the mountains. Baldy Camp marked our farthest point from Ponil as well as our highest campsite elevation. Now we would begin heading back toward Ponil and would be descending most of the way.

We followed our normal morning trail routine. We arose around 5:30 a.m. (another fitful night for the old mani), prepared breakfast and broke camp. Jr. and the three adults had horse duty. Since Jim and Tony had taken responsibility for the two pack horses the last time the four of us were given horse duty, Jr. and I assumed this task and left Jim and Tony to handle the catching, haltering, feeding and brushing duties.

I have alluded previously to the penchant of certain of the horses to graze-i.e. lower their heads 'to eat grass-whenever an opportunity presented itself. Both of the pack horses-Panda and Sandia-evidenced this trait. Panda proved to be especially creative in this regard, turning his head to grab a mouthful of any green substance we might be passing as well as endeavoring to graze in a more traditional fashion even while we were in motion. Jr. took control of Sandia, leaving me with Panda. Something told me it was going to be a long day-something was righti

Jr. and I walked Sandia and,Panda.back to the campsite and we got our'gear loaded with relative celerity (might as well try to increase the boys, vocabularyl). I think everyone was anxious to push on to a new place.
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We got our horses saddled and sent a group up to Baldy Town to fill our water bottles. This delayed our departure about 20 minutes. We headed out a little after 8:30 a.m. Jeremy had told us that this ride would be a challenging one with some steep descents down narrow trails covered by loose rock similar to that which we had encountered while climbing down Baldy. Even without those -wrinkles", the ride promised to be a new and different experence for me because, in addition to having to control Budweiser, I know had to pull Panda along a short distance behind.

Jeremy and Dale had instructed us regarding how to hold the lead rope of the pack horse-make a loop or -bight" and grab it with one hand; never loop it around your hand so you can let go if necessary-and how far behind the pack horse should follow-about 810 feet. The objective was to keep Budweiser and Panda moving along at roughly the same speed. otherwise, my right arm would be in for a long day.

Jeremy's forecast of the ride was quite accurate. We had not traveled very far before the trail narrowed noticeably and the horses were required to maneuver around trees and large rocks. Leading Panda proved to be quite an experience. Whenever we'd begin to slow down, Panda would interpret this as a license to graze. Of course, when the other horses picked up the pace again, Budweiser would follow suit, forcing me literally to pull Panda along. The day, I had concluded, would involve a continual struggle of trying to keep Budweiser from moving too fast while keeping Panda from moving too slowly. I was beginning,to feel like a wishbone. Twenty to thirty minutes into the ride that morning, I began to feel like I was listing to the right in my saddle. Before leaving Baldy, I had checked Budweiser's cinch and concluded that, although it was a bit looser than normal, there was not sufficient "slack" to warrant tightening it to the next notch of the latigo. That was a mistake as I soon discovered.

As I rode along, something just did not feel right, but I attributed it to the fact that Panda was constantly pulling me to the right. I rationalized that the sensation I was experiencing was simply the result of having to pull a pack horse. A short while later, I could see that my saddle had slid five to 10 degrees to the right and I decided that I should bring this to Jeremy's attention at the first available opportunity. Bad decision I should have said something at that moment because, a few moments later, Panda again offered some resistance and, the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the saddle at a 45 degree angle to the right.

Budweiser, God bless him, suffered the fool on his back with great patience and calm. Instead of rearing back and throwing me, which he very easily could have done, he stood fast while Jeremy and Dale hurried over in response to my call for assistance. The only option I had was to dismount from the right side and that, in itself would be sufficient to "spook' some horses. Not Budweiser, however. I guess held figured out early on that I was not Roy Rogers and he was willing to cut me a break. In any event, I was able to climb off safely and Jeremy quickly righted the saddle and tightened the cinch properly as I should have done.

Jeremy had told us at the start of the trip that, when injuries occur on Cavalcades, seldom if ever is it the fault of the horse. In almost every instance, the accident is caused by the rider not having done what he was supposed to do. That certainly was true in my case and I was very fortunate that Budweiser did not throw me or kick me. I could not have blamed him if he had. In any event, aside from providing the boys some brief amusement, my display of stupidity did not delay us for more than a few moments and soon we were moving again.

Without the starboard list, leading Panda proved to be less difficult but certainly not easy. We were all impressed by the horses' ability to negotiate steep, rock-strewn terrain in a steady and sure-footed fashion. They handled the trail with far more aplomb than we had handled similar conditions the day before. It was a lot nicer traversing such terrain on horseback than it was on foot.
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Not only was the trail we were following much narrower than those we'd used on previous rides, it also passed through more densely wooded areas than we'd experienced before. We soon learned that, while our mounts were quite adept at finding good footing and avoiding trees and other obstacles, the displayed no concern whatever for low hanging branches or rock overhangs which might prove hazardous to their riders. Consequently, we had to be vigilant to anticipate such hazards and to guide our horses away from them. This was especially true of Jr. and me because we had to keep our eyes out for obstacles confronting our horses and the pack horses we were leading.

Because the pack horses were carrying a lot of gear and equipment on their backs, they required more room to clear obstacles. If Jr. and I were not careful, our pack horses would get stuck while trying to pass through a narrow point. This was not a serious problem for the pack horse because we could always maneuver him around or find an alternative route. The trouble about the pack horse getting stuck was being ready for it. Then I could have Budweiser stop while we addressed the situation.

Sometimes, however, Panda would drift off a bit to the side and encounter a tree or rock face which I did not expect him to find and he would stop abruptly while Budweiser was maintaining his normal pace. When that occurred, my only warning would be a rapid, backward 'yank" on Panda's lead rope. If possible, I'd get Budweiser to stop right away. Depending upon how fast we were going, however, sometimes the only thing I could do would be to drop the lead rope. I believe that happened at least twice during that ride and I came close several other times. On each occasion, I was nearly yanked out of the saddle, prompting me to consider that I probably was not born to ride.

We rode through some truly incredible country-exactly what I had always visualized the back country to be. I was struck by the thought that this land was virtually unchanged from the time that Kit Carson, Zeb Pike and other famous Mountain Men had hunted and trapped here. I wondered how we would have fared if, in addition to having to sleep and travel through this country, we also had to acquire our own food. I suspect that the traditional mountain men would have viewed our trail meals as the equivalent of dining at a fancy restaurant.

I can't speak for anyone else, but my knees were very painful during the ride. I attributed this to the hike down Baldy the day before. I think that the previous days' activities, the extra exertion required on this trail ride and my on-going difficulty sleeping all exacted their toll on my stamina. I was very tired by the time that we arrived at the Pueblano corral a little after 11:00 a.m.

Upon reaching Pueblano, we had now covered all of the new ground which we would encounter during the Cavalcade. On the first day's ride from Ponil, we had passed Pueblano en route to Head of Dean. We felt that we were back in familiar territory--experienced mountain men that we'd all become. Tomorrow, we'd be riding back to Ponil and the Cavalcade would be over. it really did not seem possible that we'd reached this point so quickly. I tried not to dwell on such thoughts and, instead, tried to keep my focus on the remaining events still ahead of us.

Jr. and I were quite happy to relinquish Sandia and Panda to Dale and Jeremy after the ride. I suspected that my right arm had been stretched at least four inches over the course of the ride from Baldy Camp.
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We dismounted, took care of the horses and then walked a short distance to where our camp site was located-across a small stream and less than 200 yards from the corral. All of the boys wanted to complete the requirements for Horsemanship merit badge and Jeremy agreed to set up a class later that evening to accomplish this. Meanwhile, we needed to eat lunch, set up camp and head over to the program area to test our talent for chopping wood, shaping railroad ties and pole climbing (apologies to Tony).

Lunch proved to be more squeeze cheese-or was it more spreadables? Frankly, we were having trouble discerning any difference at this point. What was different, however, was the care with which the boys set up their tents. With the storm of the previous day, the weather at Philmont apparently had resumed some semblance of its typical pattern. Although the day had been mostly sunny up to the time we ate lunch, we could see thunder clouds building off in the distance. The threat of rain was quite apparent.

In any event, the boys set up their tents and rain f lies exactly as we'd been after them to do from the beginning of the expedition. Every thing was nice and tight with the rain flies appropriately in place. They could have put their tents on the cover of a camping manual. We now looked like we knew what we were doing!

Pueblano offered visitors the opportunity to experience what life was'like in a lumber camp. Back in the days when railroad building was a major industry, the demand for railroad ties was strong and lumber camps such as Pueblano came into existence to address that need. As explained earlier, in addition to the various mines, lumber was another resource on the Philmont property which was exploited by 19th Century entrepreneurs. Pueblano had, in fact, been the site of an actual lumber camp over a hundred years ago.
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Two main activities were offered in the program area, which was about a half mile walk-on level ground, no less-from our campsite. One of these was shaping railroad ties. The other was spar pole climbing. After lunch it started to rain and spar pole climbing was suspended until the weather cleared. We decided to gauge our skill in crafting railroad ties while we waited.

We walked over to the ax yard and watched while another group worked through the various stations. The ranger in charge was very adamant about safety and gave everyone a thorough briefing concerning the proper handling of axes and other wood tools. Rather than merely insist that we say "Thank You- to acknowledge proper transfer of an ax, we were required to shout, "',I don't want a bloody stump," whenever we accepted any wood tool.

The ranger explained that crafters of railroad ties were paid by the item so speed was important to them. An experienced tiemaker could turn out a finished tie every 20 minutes or so. Considering that the process entailed debarking a round log and then "squaring" it off and smoothing it out, that was quite an impressive rate of production. The 12 of us took longer than that to complete our railroad tie, and I must say that our effort was not likely to prompt any offers of employment from a lumber company.

We each had the opportunity to wield the large ax used to debark the log, which was about 18 inches in diameter. As we did this we endeavored to form the log into something of a rectangular shape common to railroad ties. After we had succeeded in doing this, we used another tool to further shape and smooth the nascent railroad tie. We learned, however, that most tie-makers skipped this second step, contenting themselves with a product somewhat less aesthetically pleasing but substantially more lucrative. Why spend any more time than they needed to when they would be paid the same whether the tie was smoothed out or not? Few of us had ever utilized axes of this size and we were impressed by how quickly we got tired while doing this work. We could certainly appreciate how strong the men who performed this task must have been to work at it for 8-10 hours a day, every day.
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We probably spent an hour or so over at the railroad tie demonstration area. The boys stretched out on hay bales which were scattered on the covered landing adjacent to the ax yard. It was still raining a little and we used the time to relax, talk and, in some cases, take a nap.

At 3:00 p.m. or thereabouts, we walked over t o the spar pole climbing area. It was still drizzling a little, but the Rangers thought that things were clearing up to the extent that they could at least commence the detailed safety briefing which had to be done before anyone could climb the poles.

The boys had been looking forward to this activity for the entire trip and we all hoped that the weather would not interfere. Frankly, even though the rain was letting up, the clouds in the sky held no promise that the precipitation would not resume at any moment.

The Spar Pole area consisted of three, 30 feet high wooden poles, which were arranged in the shape of an equilateral triangle, each one about 25 yards apart from the other two. One of the poles obviously had been a tree trunk in a former life and it was very -knobby--branches had been closely cropped, lending it the appearance of a severely pruned peach tree. Another pole was almost completely smooth-like a telephone pole, while the third pole was kind of a blend of the other two-mostly smooth but with a knob or two.

We sat on a stack of logs while the ranger in charge briefed a group that was ahead of us. It had stopped raining and our prospects for getting on the poles appeared to be improving. The group ahead of us was comparable in size and we watched as one of them was outfitted in a harness, hard hat and climbing spikes, which were strapped on the inside of his calves and boots. While he was being outfitted in this fashion, a long safety rope was stretched around one of the near by trees and over a high limb.
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Each pole climber was also equipped with a leather strap which he would adjust to correspond to the length of his arm from elbow to knuckles. The idea was to attach one end of the strap to the climber's harness, place it around the pole and then attach the other end to the harness. The climber would then select another member of the group to be his "donkey." This was the person who would man the safety rope, which was attached to a D-ring on the climber's harness and would keep constant tension on the line as the climber ascended the pole, thus ensuring that the climber would not plummet to the ground in the event he lost his grip on the pole.

The appropriate climbing technique required the climber to lean back from the strap at an angle of 30 degrees or so from the pole while also keeping his feet and legs at a comparable angle. The objective was to dig the spikes into the pole at an angle while climbing upward and sliding the leather strap as needed. It certainly did not sound too difficult as we listened to the ranger explain the process nor did it look very hard when he demonstrated the technique to us. The boys soon learned, however, that appearances can be deceiving.

The group ahead of us started climbing on the knobby pole described earlier and we were not certain if the rangers would expand the operation to include either of the other poles. This concerned us because of the amount of time required to put on and take off the harness and spikes in addition to that spent climbing. Based upon the progress of the other group, it appeared that 15 minutes would be required for each climber and we were worried that we would not have enough time for every one to get a turn if we had to wait until the other group was finished before we could begin climbing.
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The Ranger allayed our concerns by setting up a second pole, the smooth one, for us. Another group had arrived after us and the third pole was set up for their use. Things were getting busy.

As it was getting close to dinner time, Andrew decided that the two cooks should be first to climb. Jr. was the first of our group to don his climbing gear and make the effort. At first he encountered some trouble because he had not properly tightened the spikes around his boots and it took@a bit of time for him to master the technique. of course, the rest of the boys were not going to cut him any slack. "Is that all you've got," they teased, as he inched up the pole. He made it to the top in about five minutes, kissed the metal ring at the top as instructed, released the leather. strap and then was lowered by his "donkey" to the ground.

Over the course of the next 90 minutes or so, each of the boys climbed the poles and kissed the ring and had their pictures taken. Some managed the feat with great ease and grace; others struggled mightily. As a rule, the older boys had less trouble than the younger ones but everyone made it and, from all appearances, were quite pleased with themselves as a consequence.

As this would be our last dinner on the trail, the adults decided to take a more active role in its preparation. The boys got things started and then Tony volunteered to take over. This greatly accelerated the mealls progress and we all enjoyed the meal of macaroni and cheese, mixed vegetables and fruit cobbler. As an additional treat, the adults assumed responsibility for clean up as well. This gave the boys sufficient time to walk over to the corral to complete the remaining requirements for the horsemanship merit badge.

We'd burned the cobbler two nights before and had a lot of work to do to clean one of the pots. Jeremy gave us an SOS pad and, between Jim and I and a lot of elbow grease, we managed to return the pot to its former luster. The rest of the clean up was a snap.
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Jeremy visited us two or three times during the next hour or so (Dale has handling the merit badge class) in dire need of Imodium. Tony had run out, but one of the boys had some which save Jeremy from further stays at the Red Roof Inn that evening. Jeremy's plight served as a good reminder to include Imodium as a mandatory item on all camp out checklists.

It was dark by the time the boys finished their class. Pueblano was reputed to have an excellent campfire program so we all headed over to the campfire circle next to the staff cabin. As we approached, we could hear a lot of laughter and good natured banter. The campfire had been in progress for about 20 minutes when we arrived.

My memory of the campfire is somewhat vague. We stretched out on some hay-probably some horse manure as well, but we didn't care at this point-to watch the program and, I'm afraid, I must have dozed off for awhile. I remember a story about a psychopath murderer who lived in the area a long time ago. Apparently he killed upwards of 20 people, including his own family. The rangers sang a couple of songs, both of which Jeremy had performed as well, but nothing about the "-sons of bitches- that Jeremy liked to remember in song!

The rangers at Pueblano truly seemed to enjoy themselves. Their energy and enthusiasm were contagious and made the campfire a very entertaining one. At the risk of being repetitive, the young men and women who made up the staff at Philmont were all quite exceptional and we were fortunate enough to meet many of them. I can think of few experiences that would be more beneficial to a young person-old, too for that matter-than spending a few sununersat this magical place. I hope some of the boys in this Cavalcade will give serious thought to doing so.

The camp fire ended around 9:30 and we headed back to our campsite to spend our last night on the trail. Tomorrow night we'd be back at Philmont headquarters enjoying the luxury of a cot, a dining hall, A shower and a cold soda. one more trail ride and we'd be back at Ponil, where we'd started five days ago.

Earlier in the day, Jeremy had told us to be watchful of other horsemen/wranglers coming into the corral. Apparently, during a previous Cavalcade, Jeremy had played a prank on one of his fellow staff members and peers by removing the saddles, tack and other gear stored at a corral and hiding it some distance away. This created great confusion and delay on the part of the affected group much to Jeremy' s amusement. In any event, the person upon whom Jeremy had played the prank was also in Pueblano and Jeremy anticipated that a "payback" was in the works.

I had not given the matter much thought, but some of the boys were talking about it as we walked back to the camp site. About 15 minutes after we got back, Alex informed everyone that held just checked over at the corral and all of our gear was missing. I suspected that Alex was merely toying with us. In any event, I was too tired to care. I could hear some of the boys talking about it, however, as I drifted off to sleep.
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