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Packin The Grub and Beer

There were these four guys from Wisconsin who wanted to go up to some high lakes and they wanted to walk in. They made arrangements to hire us to pack in their food and beverages with the horses the following day. When they dropped off their provisions to pack in they had a fair amount of food and a whole lot of beer. Those Wisconsin boys like their beer. The box panyards on the one horse was completely full and it was all beer. The other two pack horses held more delicate items such as food which included a few dozen eggs and a jug of whiskey.

The main road to this trailhead had washed out so we had to truck the horses on a alternate route. The trail from this point had not been used for about thirty years and it was a real tough go in many places. In some spots it was too narrow for the horses to get through with the packs so we had to unload them and take the horses through and then carry the packs. At one point when we stopped to rest the horses, the one that was carrying all the beer shook like horses do. When she shook and all those cans of beer rattled in the pack she went ballistic. We finally got her settled down before she destroyed this entire precious cargo. Fortunately only a few cans erupted.

After a few hours we got to the main trail and met the guys at the lake. They were quite happy to see us to say the least. We unloaded the packs and the first one they dove into was the one with all the beer. Each guy took what was considered his share and stashed it in this little cold stream that flowed into the lake. Joe unloaded the pack with the eggs which he had meticously packed and opened them to show that not one was cracked. They had built this rickety crude table and put the eggs and the jug of whiskey on it. One of the guys accidentaly bumped the table and everyone of the eggs broke when they hit the ground. The whiskey jug made this little klink sound as it landed on a small rock. It was as if time was suspended as all of them just froze with mouths wide open. They stared at the jug a few seconds in disbelief that it didn’t break.

Joe and I bid them farewell and headed back down the trail. It was easy going with empty pack saddles and we stopped along the stream a few miles down to enjoy a couple beers we had high graded from their stash and had left in the cold water. Our mission was accomplished but Joe kept saying that he couldn’t believe they broke all those eggs he so carefully packed.


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