At the End of My Rope

Another reason the trip described below took so long is that a single donkey lolligags when he doesn't have the peer pressure to move along. Also another reason why I was so tired - from dragging Slim for eight miles. Only for a short segment of trail did he get up and go. I passed a couple on the Stock Trail enjoying the view from the ridge above cabin #94, just north of Jody's Meadow. They stepped out of the way for us to pass then proceded to follow us all the way to Fern Lodge, where I stopped to call the Pack Station. The whole time Slim was aware of them and put some giddy-up in his get-along; sometimes a little too much.

After pulling a donkey for six miles, nothing gets your heart pumping like that split second between the time you feel slack in the lead rope and the time you look around to see if he is running at you! For those of you who don't know me, I am 6'4" tall and about 265 lbs. There is not enough room on the Stock Trail for me and a donkey to be side-by-side. Slim has charged past me once, when we hit a Yellow Jacket nest, but I always hold the lead rope in the downhill hand, so he knocked me uphill. Still, it's quite scary when you feel that sudden slack in the rope or you hear a harmless stumble that sounds like a trot. If I may say so, I suppose that's one thing that makes me a good packer. I am always aware of how all five senses, and maybe a sixth, can come in handy on the trail.