We had finished snugging the diamond hitch on our fifth mule when the rain started. The sixth hitch didn’t pull together properly and took fifteen minutes to reset. By then we were getting wet and the oil skin slickers were getting unrolled from our saddle strings. We had six riding animals and six bearing 160-180 pound packs…all mules except my saddle horse. All six pack animals had decker saddles with heavy canvas and leather panniers with wood or fiberglass liners. Each load was finished off with a twenty to forty pound top pack covered with a light canvas tarp and secured with a diamond hitch. A mile down the trail the rain picked up. I later learned two different land owners in the Lostine River Canyon recorded three inches of rain that day. If the trail was inclined, it had one to two inches of water flowing. The level trail sections had two to six inches of standing water. Most stock tend to avoid deep standing water in the trail but with water everywhere they soon settled down and stayed in the well-worn trail. Our destination was Minam Lake which is six miles from the Twopan trailhead with a 2,000 foot elevation gain. As we approached Three Mile Meadow I assessed the situation. I was the best protected from the driving rain with a long oil-skin duster, plastic cowboy hat cover, heavy leather boots and leather gloves. I was plenty cold and I surmised the five others were as well. I hollered back to see what my trail partners thought about stopping and setting up camp half way to our destination. It was all thumbs up! I like old guys! This trip was planned around my dear friend 89 year old Dwayne Wright from Umapine, Oregon. He loves mules, owns six or eight and that makes him extra special to me. Once he and I initiated plans for this trip he asked if he could bring his three sons. He would provide riding mules for all of them plus a good pack mule. I said “yes”… what could I say! His boys are from sixty to seventy one years old and all successful great guys. It was heartwarming watching them attend to their elderly fathers every need. My packing partner, Rick Guglielmi, was along to share the trip. He and I have each purchased mules from Dwayne. We were all water soaked and cold. Our camp site in the trees was mostly standing water two to six inches deep. We soon had a big tarp lean-to erected and Rick managed to get a modest campfire going. This gave us moments of relief as we were unloading, attending to stock and setting up camp in the steady rain. As usual I whip out tacos the first night which are quick, easy and filling. A few smiles were beginning to appear. With four tents we all had a reasonably dry bed. The next four days were sunny and warm and with some effort we got dried out. We decided to stay put and do day rides out of camp. The fourth day we saddled up and rode three more miles up to Minam Lake. Three of us fished for three hours and landed one lone eastern brook trout (EBT). My history through my dad goes back to him fishing that beautiful lake shortly after he returned from Germany at the end of World War Two. He and his buddies caught numerous EBT. I have caught hundreds, many from the exact location as my dad. I got to the bottom of the lousy fishing situation recently when I interviewed a fish biologist at ODFW in Enterprise. They have not planted EBT in the high lakes for over thirty years. Their reasoning is: they are not native to Oregon and they may cross-breed with bull trout (dolly varden) which they consider an endangered species. Planting EBT in the high lakes of Oregon, which is the species best suited to survive, reproduce and thrive is not a motivational factor for ODFW. Dwayne rode his favorite mule named Deacon who was thirty years old. This fine mule had been his go-to riding animal for twenty six years. Deacon was in reasonably good physical shape for his age and we all cherished what they accomplished as mule and rider on this trip. A few days after returning home, Deacon was afflicted with a condition in equines called “Choke”. This is an obstruction within the lumen of the esophagus. It happened three times within a few days and was attributed to Deacons age and reduced vitality. Standard veterinary procedures at a local clinic were successful the first two times. Upon the third occurrence they concluded the prognosis was very poor knowing that pneumonia and ulceration of the esophagus were likely. Deacon was humanely euthanized and buried on Dwayne’s ranch. A heartfelt sad ending to a good late July 2023 pack trip to the heart of the Eagle Cap Wilderness.
email: jgroupe@aol.com
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