Reflections

    Visiting Montana is like visiting another country. I say that as a compliment.
    The population density of my my home state is 196 inhabitants per square mile, which places us at 15th in the nation. In Montana the population density is 6.8 inhabitants per square mile, 48th in the nation. Or, to put it another way, there are 28 times as many people in a square mile here as compared to there.
    When you pick up my hometown paper and read the crime report you will see murders, rapes, and armed robberies. In the town of West Yellowstone, Montana you will read that "A camper reported that a bear was near them," and "Someone found a calico cat."
    Folks in West Yellowstone love to get out and enjoy their beautiful mountains. They especially enjoy camping. They enjoy it so much that they have a campground at their airport. One of our guides is so crazy about camping that as soon as he could shake himself loose from camping with us he was going to spend one week camping with his family in an area so remote it takes two days to get there.
    Speaking of the airport, it is so small there is only one airstrip for landing or taking off. While waiting for my flight out I counted my fellow passengers. They numbered 20 people and a dog.
    The TSA agents walk freely among the passengers in the airport's only waiting room. They make announcements in a friendly fashion unusual for members of their profession. "We'll start screening at ten past. Huckleberry jam and syrup are considered liquids and gels and must be transported as checked baggage, not as carry on." Upon this several passengers jumped up to return to the only check-in desk with their bags.
    The airport is only open from June through September. The rest of the year they are closed due to snow. This schedule is "approximate" according to their official web site. During the winter the airport is rented out to a company who tests snow and cold conditions on tires and other equipment.
    It snows a LOT in Montana. The beautiful meadow pictured above was covered in snow just two weeks before I arrived.........in July! Just over the state line at Sawtelle Peak, Idaho I saw a snow pole. These look  like a cross between a telephone pole and a large ruler. They are marked in feet so that one can tell how much snow is on the ground. The highest measurement on the pole? Eleven feet!
    I put together a little slide show with photos from my trip. You can see it on You Tube by clicking here.

Ridin' Mules

   

    In July I was fortunate enough to attend a photography workshop led by  John and Barb Gerlach. We spent six days in the mountains of Montana. Yellowstone Mountain Guides  provided the saddle horses, pack mules, wranglers, and a cook for our expedition of twelve people.
    All guests and the workshop leaders rode horses. The guide staff rode mules or horses according to personal preference. Tents, food, and personal belongings were packed in by seven mules.
    The mules can carry over 200 lbs apiece. Some mules work solely as pack mules and can't be ridden under saddle. Other mules can be ridden under saddle and these are called ridin' mules. Guides often argue about which ones are which.
    One night we discovered that we were short one horse due to a lost shoe. Well aware of the discussion among the guides as to which mules can or can't be ridden, I volunteered to ride a mule the following day if one was available. All agreed that Banjo was a ridin' mule and that after a day in the saddle on this mule I would never want to trail ride on a horse again.

Banjo

    The morning of the ride arrived cool and clear with low humidity. The camp cook informed me that the way to Banjo's heart was through his stomach and that I should feed him his favorite treat, Tree Top All Natural Fruit Snacks. I walked over to where he stood tied and tore open a package of the Gummi bear-like snacks.  At the sound of the wrapper he perked up his gigantic ears. He relished the bribe and I left him licking his lips, certain that he was now very fond of me.
    The ride began well. Banjo had a smooth comfortable walk and he picked his way carefully over rocks, logs, and creeks. This ride was a cakewalk for him compared to his usual job carrying heavy packs up steep mountains. I did notice that he constantly swished his tail, a behavior that I blamed on insects that must be badgering him.
    We reached a beautiful green mountain meadow after an hour's ride. We were to have our pictures taken one by one with the mountain as a backdrop. All the animals who weren't presently being photographed were allowed to relax and feast on the tender green grass. While waiting our turn I slipped my feet out of the stirrups to stretch my achy knees.
    The rodeo was on!
    Banjo realized almost immediately that I was in a vulnerable position without my feet in the stirrups. He stopped grazing and bucked once. I grabbed the saddle horn tightly with my right hand, suspecting that I was in trouble. He bucked a second time. My feet flew up in the air as if controlled by some maniacal puppeteer and I became totally convinced that I was in peril. He bucked a third time. I sensed several inches of air between the seat of my pants and the saddle. I became airborne. Banjo took just one more step to regain his balance and calmly put his head back down to resume eating.
    Fortunately for me I was not hurt. I hurled some choice expletives at Banjo at the top of my lungs. Remorseless, he bent his head to ask for a rub.
    At least we answered the question "Is Banjo a ridin' mule?" The answer is a resounding "NO!"

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