A Winter Campout at Sheridan Ranch

I had the opportunity to accompany the local Boy Scout troop to the Sheridan Ranch for an overnight outing last weekend. The ranch is a 32,000+ acre operation owned by Mr. Frank VanderSloot. We were allowed to “camp” in two of the cabins that house the ranch hands during the summer.

The four foot blanket of snow left only the tops of the fence posts visible as we approached the cabins. Entering the two buildings, we discovered that the floors, counters and furniture appeared to be covered with a blanket of black peppercorns. It was a layer of dead flies! Grabbing brooms and shovels we set to work rounding up the unwelcome house guests. After removing several gallons of insect remains, we built a fire in the fireplace and set about cooking dinner.

After dining on ham and potatoes, we unrolled our beds and called it a night. Morning began with a breakfast of ham, eggs and potatoes. Drew Oakey and I were accused of snoring in harmony during the night. Jerry Tingey offered an iPhone recording as evidence. I am sure that the recording was doctored!

With full bellies, we jumped on our sleds and headed to the reservoir for some ice fishing. The surface ice was slushy so everyone drilled a hole next to their sled. Sitting on a sled was preferable to standing in ice water while waiting for a bite. It wasn’t long before the fish began accepting the impaled offerings. Most fish were caught and released but a few large trout were taken home. Rance Dye rode his sled out to the ranch for the day. He was happy to be enjoying the activities that he loves again. His day was punctuated with the landing of a nice trout.

As the interest in fishing subsided, everyone dispersed to run their sleds across the freshly fallen powder. The scouts were safety conscious and stayed on the flatter terrain while some of the adults seemed bent on seeing who could get the most stuck. Finally as the afternoon waned, the scouts and leaders cleaned up the cabins and rode their sleds back to where the plows stop at the west end of Yale-Kilgore Road. We loaded the sleds onto the waiting trailers and headed for home.

It was a great time with great boys and enjoyable adults. Scouting and Island Park go so well together. We are blessed. I’d like to thank Mr. VanderSloot and Steve Hyde, manager of the Eagle Ridge Ranch for their generosity to the scouting program.

By the way, did you know that some flies that appear dead reanimate as they get warm? It’s true. I was dive-bombed while in my sleeping bag!  

6/10/2015 Cover Photo for the Island Park Journal

Cover Photo for the Island Park Journal taken on the trail to Blue Creek. 6/05/2015

The High Mountains on Horseback

Last weekend I had the opportunity to accompany local Boy Scout Troop 115 on an overnight horseback trip to the top of Blue Creek. The trip was expertly guided by Steve Hyde of the Eagle Ridge Ranch. After matching the group of twenty to horses that were suited to the riders, we hit the trail.

Winding through groves of quakies, we followed the creek up the ravine and moved into the pines. The trail steepened as we approached the top of the mountain. Riding up a rocky embankment, my horse slipped and my saddle slid to my mount’s side. I executed a sudden, unintentional dismount! The group marveled at how good I bounced.

After a three hour ride, we arrived at our camp site. It was a beautiful high-mountain saddle surrounded by mountain peaks. Once the horses were cared for, we began to make camp. Because we took no pack horses, only tarps or small backpack tents were brought on the trip. While several of the scouts were setting up their tents, I put together a small shelter using three large branches, a little rope and a tarp. I saved pack weight for my backpacker’s cot. My body no longer enjoys contorting to avoid rocks and roots while sleeping.

A storm blew through pelting us with hail and rain but as dark approached, the skies cleared and we were able to have a great campfire.  I slept great in the high-mountain air and woke up to my traditional yogurt breakfast. The scouts did a little post-breakfast exploration before breaking camp and saddling the horses. 

The trip down the mountain was a beautiful ride but a little quicker than the ride up.  Arriving at Eagle Ridge Ranch, we returned our horses to the ranch hands and walked gingerly to our vehicles and headed home. I want to thank all those who were involved in the trip. The scouts were all very well behaved and a credit to their families. The leaders exhibited the best of what scout leaders offer to young men. I would especially like to thank Steve Hyde and the staff of Eagle Ridge Ranch. They were very patient, professional and knowledgeable. Anyone interested in seeing Island Park from the back of a horse should contact them.

And finally, after two days I am happy to report that I am able to walk and sit normally again!   

A Mother’s Day Thank You

Realizing that this Sunday is Mother’s Day, I reflected on the influence that my mother has had on my life. If my mom had a motto while raising me, it was “hold on loosely”. I spent my early years in Murray, Utah. By the time I was five years old, I was outfitted with an army surplus belt/canteen, packed a lunch and allowed to spend my days exploring the pastures and creeks behind our house with my friends. The success of an expedition was determined by the number of frogs, minnows or snakes that I brought home.

When I was eleven we moved to Venice, California. It didn’t take long before I was tying my fishing pole and tackle box on my bike and making my weekly 5 am pilgrimage to the Venice Pier. Mom made sure that I was active in Scouts and earned my Eagle. I was also allowed to take up scuba diving, sail boating and riding dirt bikes. She also put up with my large revolving collection of tropical fish, snakes, lizards and tortoises.

She arranged for me to spend several of my teenage summers on my grandparents’ farm in Lehi, Utah. I learned how to fence, irrigate, buck hay and drive a tractor.

I realize that my interests were not shared by my mother but she never discouraged me from venturing out on my own and pursuing my interests. Come to think of it, if it wasn’t for my mother’s influence I wouldn’t have been drawn to Island Park.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my mom, Patricia Crofts for all of her effort on my behalf. If you still have the opportunity to tell your mom “thank You”, use Mother’s Day as an excuse to express your gratitude.

And for those who bemoan my arrival in Island Park, please don’t address your complaints to my mother. She already knows that I am a pain! 

Scout Camp Memories

Driving by the Boy Scout Camp rekindled memories of my teen years attending scout camp. I lived in Venice, California at the time and our scout camp was on Catalina Island. Camp started with a sea plane flight to the Island. The Camp Emerald Bay was located on the ocean where we were able to enjoy helmet diving, boating and fishing. We also had the opportunity to take a war canoe around the island on an overnight camping trip.

The highlight of the week’s activities was the attempted pig capture. The camp had an open garbage pit and there existed a herd of wild pigs, descendants from pigs abandoned by early Spanish settlers. The sows and piglets would come to feed at the dump at night. The scouts would surround the pit, lying down until the pigs began feeding. With a single yell, the scouts would jump up, rush at the pigs and attempt to tackle one.  

I paired up with Freddie Garcia, a member of my troop, since I did not have a flashlight. Lying on my stomach amid the scrub, a shout went out and we jumped up and dashed for the pigs. I was following the bouncing glow of Freddie’s flashlight on the moonless night when suddenly, the light went out. Not wanting to give up on my chance to capture a pig, I continued to the pit. The pigs ran for cover between the scouts’ legs and within 3 minutes, the pigs were safe and the scouts were empty handed.

In all the excitement, I had forgotten about Freddie. When things calmed down I began searching for my friend. I returned to where I had last seen his flashlight and I heard a moan. I called over another scout with a flashlight and its beam illuminated Freddie lying in a large patch of cactus.

After extricating him from natures booby-trap, a trip to the infirmary was necessary for my friend where he endured an hour of getting the needles removed.