Читать книгу Dutch Clarke - The Early Years - Brian Ratty - Страница 10

Late in the afternoon, my small caravan reached the banks of Thunder River, the first of three major water crossings. Having heard the loud roar of the river down trail for the last half-hour, I knew my first obstacle was at hand. At the point where I rode out of the dense forest alongside this river, I found a small ravine with large rocks on the opposite side, some sixty yards away. The water was deep and fast-flowing from the spring runoff. From its looks, I was betting it was bone-chillingly cold, too. The river was deep green, and boulders protruded from the fast-moving water, causing white rapids from shore to shore.

Reining Blaze to the north, I looked for a better crossing point. When I found none, I backtracked and traveled another quarter mile upriver from where I’d first come out of the forest. Finally, I found a place where there was a large logjam being held together by rocks on both sides of the river. This obstacle caused the fast-moving water to pool up and slow a hundred feet back from the logs. From what I could see, the water only looked to be about three or four feet deep at that point. The animals would have to traverse the river here, one at a time, and—because of the fast-moving current—it would have to be without their full, heavy loads. Each mule carried four waterproof trail bags; before crossing, I would unpack two of the bags from each of them. Looking at the river and the other side, I decided that I would cross first with Blaze, while stringing a safety rope from one side to the other. On a snag, I tied one end of my rope and coaxed Blaze towards the roaring river’s crossing point.

With a great deal of caution, we entered the water. Huffing and snorting nervously, Blaze made one tenuous step at a time over the slippery rocks of the riverbed. By the middle of the stream, the cold water was up to my knees, and I could feel Blaze push his weight against the pressure of the moving undercurrent as we stumbled towards the other side. After reaching the other bank, I secured my safety rope to a large tree and took my saddlebags, bedroll, and saddle off Blaze before tying him to another snag. I also took off my backpack, coat, and gun belt, replacing my wet boots with canvas shoes to re-cross the river and retrieve the mules and supplies.

As I approached the riverbank again, I could see Gus in the middle of the stream, swimming towards me. With only his head out of the water, and his strong legs paddling with all their might, he was making good time in the water. It had taken no encouragement from me to get him to swim across, as he seemed to love the water.

After his safe arrival on the new shore, he greeted me with a big shake that flicked huge, cold droplets all over me. That was just a taste of more to come. Quickly, I ventured back into the river on foot. It was numbingly cold! I had to keep moving, as I knew the water could be dangerous. Holding on to the rope and moving hand over hand, I was soon on the other side again. It took me almost an hour and another six trips to get the mules and supplies all safely to the other side. All the while, Gus watched from the riverbank, moving back and forth, barking, almost as if he was shouting out commands to me.

After completing my last load, numb from the waist down, I couldn't believe how cold I was. Because of my fear of hypothermia, I quickly stripped my wet clothes off and dried myself in the late direct sunlight. Searching out some dry wood, I soon had a small fire made in a protected area of log snags. Damn! This was something I should have done on my first trip across. I had a lot to learn. There were dry clothes in my saddlebags, and I quickly changed into them. Wringing the worst of the water out of my wet clothes, I laid them out to dry by the fireside. Next, I searched through my saddlebags until I found the makings for a small pot of coffee, which I placed next to the fire. As the coffee started to brew, I made sure that the animals were fed and tied close to the camp and that all of the supplies were stacked and safe. Famished, I returned to the fireside, warmed a large can of beans, and ate some bread from my saddlebags. The area around my first campsite was breathtaking, from the dense rain forest on the other side of the river to the fast-moving white water and high rocky cliffs on my side. I was dwarfed by the sheer size and splendor of my surroundings.

Within a half an hour, the food and most of the coffee was gone. Once my dinner fixings were cleaned up, I opened my bedroll on a sandy beach area close to the fire and lay back against a large log snag. By then, the light in the western sky was growing dim. Checking my pocket watch, I was surprised to find that it was almost 10 p.m. Because we were so far north, the days were much longer in the late spring and early summer.

Resting there in the faint evening light, with moths dancing around my fire, I reflected on my accomplishments. Not so bad for the first day... dead tired, a sore butt, a lump on my forehead, but it had gone pretty much as I had planned. Other than falling off my horse and getting lost a few times, the first day seemed to be a good omen.

My gaze soon came to rest on the stack of trail bags, full of my supplies.

For the thousandth or maybe even the millionth time, I worried about what I hadn't brought and what I might have overstocked. I remembered the detailed list that I’d drafted while trying so hard to anticipate all my future needs. What kind of weather would I encounter? What tools would be needed to build a cabin? Food: supplies… what to take and what to grow? Plans for the trip in and plans for the trip out, so many details. Despite having gone over and over my list of supplies for the better part of six months, I was still apprehensive. One thing I knew for sure: there would be no stores up in the Nascall Valley.

With the exception of my food, tools and animals, I’d purchased most of my trail supplies from Willis & Geiger, outfitters out of Wisconsin. The total cost to fund this journey was some $2,500, which had been paid for by Grandfather’s estate. Therefore, I had made sure to purchase only the best outfit and supplies that money could buy.

My list of dry foods was quite long, since they would be my staples until my garden could be harvested. These staples, for the most part, were in moisture-proof containers that I could reuse for other foods. These supplies included such items as rock salt, vinegar, and sugar, which would be used in drying and pickling vegetables and game foods. Honey, dried fruits, and fruit juice were valuable for their sugar value and to help prevent scurvy. Most of my food items were packed on the mule Harry. On my mule Harriet, I carried my tools, building materials and farm implements. And the knapsack on my back held all my personal items.

In my saddle bags I’d packed food supplies for the trail: three loaves of hard bread, ten cans of beans and chili, one pound of coffee, a small coffee pot, can opener, six sandwiches, ten apples and ten candy bars. I’d brought the trail food so I could concentrate on traveling without having to do any hunting during my journey.

I also carried three firearms: a Smith & Wesson .32 caliber pistol, a lever-action Winchester Model 94 rifle, and a Winchester Model 12 pump action 20-gauge shotgun. Ammunition: eight boxes, 160 rounds of 20 gauge shotgun shells; two boxes, 100 rounds of .32 caliber rim fire short pistol shells, with another 25 rounds on my gun belt; and four boxes, 200 rounds of 32/40 long rifle shells, with another six shells in my rifle. Both my Winchester rifle and shotgun I had strapped in saddle boots on either side of Blaze. Other weapons were my 12" hunting knife and a small hatchet, both hanging on the gun belt, and a 6" switchblade knife in my pocket, all razor-sharp. In my bedroll, I’d stashed my sleeping bag, two wool blankets, a yellow rain slicker, a rubber poncho and two 4’ by 6’ waxed-canvas tarps.

This endless list of supplies kept rushing through my head like the river. Lying there, looking up at the countless stars, I thought, Details, details… whatever I’ve forgotten, I'll have to live without. Whatever I really need I will make, grow, or hunt.

When I tossed two more logs on the fire, it snapped and popped back at me, while the nearby river roared like a freight train. To this nighttime symphony, a single wolf added his contribution, crying out in the distance. His sounds reminded me that I would not really be alone on this trip, as these predators would always be with me. Slipping deep into my sleeping bag, I covered myself with a blanket and was soon in a cocoon-like slumber.