The Ignorant Angler

An old cliche...the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.  My feet don't know that one.  Nor do Forest Service trails through the western mountains.  Trails go wherever lumpy terrain dictates.  And, if you're a hiker like me, it's easy to get sidetracked and go cross country in order to investigate some out of the way body of water.  It's only a "few" extra miles.
So I bumped my way up the Boulder River road with the intention of hitting the trail and covering a few miles before dark.   But, I was played out from work. And, it was still warm.  Common sense prevailed.  I camped at Hicks Park instead.  Besides, I prefer to hike in the cool of morning.
Morning, true to form, I was much more chipper.  I broke camp, packed my pack and drove to the Box Canyon trailhead.  I was on the trail by 6:45 a.m.  My itinerary over the next few days would take me through some scenic high country.  Here then are some photos.  Enjoy!





























I made it to Pentad Lake…

I never was much of a horse person.  I liked the idea of horses.  Riding them?  Screw it, I'd rather walk.  I know girls like 'em.  Me and my bony butt, not so much.  My knees never appreciated it either. Family jewels?  There was a time or two that I uttered a higher octave.
I once spent a summer employed by the Forest Service.  It was the best summer of my life. As a range wannabe, horses were part of the deal.  Uncle even tried to teach me how to throw a diamond hitch.  Thinking this to be my eventual calling, I bought a book.  Horse Packing in Pictures.  Great idea.  Kind of like painting by numbers.  My packing career never got past the looking at the pictures stage.  I gave it away to a friend who has horses and mules, and, who actually does some packing.
I once met a guy who resented being called a "cowboy."  He was a "horseman."  He had a cushy office job.  Really?  Poking around, I discovered that horses are said to respond to horseman, they react…