One word of warning. Unlike my last story, some of the people in this story (beside me) are still alive, so there might be revisions as I'm reminded of the correct events once I publish this. I think I'll leave my words in and
Second word of warning. I found myself using phrases like "I think", "I kind of remember", or "If I remember right" all through the story. So much that it was very distracting. I've removed most of them and I'll just say it here, don't think things are as positive as the statements might make them sound. This is all from 30 year old memories of a 55 year old brain. For all I really know, I might have hallucinated the whole thing. But here goes.
Dad on a horse named Butterfly riding to Reeves Falls
In the fall of 1985 a whole bunch of things came together at once to make for some interesting experiences which culminated in a great hunting trip with my dad, brothers, and a family named Nix.
First, I changed jobs from AZ Software to Tanner Construction which gave me allot more freedom in my schedule.
Second, as part of that new job I wrote some software called Hot Print that was bringing in extra cash.
Third, that Extra cash allowed us to afford to buy a house.
Fourth, my wife (Nannette) and I were expecting our second child. She's never forgiven me for being pregnant TWO TIMES through Arizona summers, but once again, she was due in the latter part of August, just like our first child (Koren) was 2 years ago.
We found the new house in the middle of the summer and were set to close on it in early September.
My dad had also asked me to join my brothers and him on a horse back and hunting trip in October. We would be riding horses deep into the Blue Range Primitive Area in Eastern Arizona. It was planned for early October and the move was early September so I figured we'd be well moved into our new home and going on the trip cause no problems.
Kyle was born in late August in the midst of preparing our apartment for the move . I remember it being a very hectic month but also a very happy one. Things were just going great in our lives and we were so happy with Koren and Kyle.
As the date for the move approached, we gave notice on our rental, scheduled the moving van, and got promises of help from family and friends. But just two days before closing, our underwriter backed out and cancelled our loan. We never knew why they changed their minds, but suddenly we had to start the whole loan process all over again.
We assured the sellers that we still wanted the house and filled in the new loan paperwork. Somewhere in September we got a call asking us about the loan we'd defaulted on in 1950 something. We assured the bank that we hadn't had a loan before either of us were born. Maybe that's what stopped the first deal, but the loan seemed to be going OK this time. We called almost daily to ask how it was proceeding and if we could do anything to speed it up. There seemed to be nothing we could do to reduce the vague "early October" date that the loan company kept giving us.
When we got down to a couple of weeks again (late September) our realtor came by to tell us that the sellers had put the house back on the market and had a new offer. It was more money than ours. The sellers claimed that they thought we had given up on buying and were preparing to take the offer. I don't remember exactly how it all got worked out, but we actually still had a fully enforceable contract and our realtor probably threatened court action if they didn't follow through. So the sellers had to turn down the 2nd offer and take the house back off the market.
When the bank finally came through with a closing date, it was the same day as the hunting trip.
We did everything we could to prepare for the move because I needed to be on the road by 3:00pm if I was going to catch up with everyone at the trail head. We only had a small 2 bedroom apartment, so I figured it couldn't take more than a few hours to move everything. Ignorance is bliss.
Dad, Dave, and Rob came by the night before the move to pick up my camping gear so it wouldn't get lost in the move.
The morning of the move and trip, we began loading stuff into the trailers we'd borrowed. There was so much stuff. I'd never imagined we owned so much. We packed until the time came to sign papers. We drove to the Title Company and must have arrived early because the sellers were just leaving. They gave us a dirty look but that might just be my imagination. Not only did they get less money but I think they lost the house they originally wanted to buy because of our loan snafu.
We signed our papers and were given a key to our own home at 1026 East Garnet in Mesa AZ.
We went back to the apartment on Mesa Drive near McKellips and finished packing the first load. Nan and some of the others helping us drove to the new house to unload while I continued packing the next trailer. We continued like this until everything was finally moved at about 3:00. I don't think anything was unpacked and there were no beds made, so Nannette planned to go visit her sisters and parents while I was gone.
When the last of it was done, I kissed Nannette and the kids goodbye, then hopped in my little Subaru Brat and headed to pick up my brother Mike. I hadn't helped unload so I never went to the new house. I've only seen the inside of the house 2 times while house hunting and the outside a few times while driving past to show friends and family.
Mike was at home, having just gotten off work. I was so tired from packing all day that he offered to drive and I let him. I shouldn't have. Mike was, shall we say, an aggressive driver. If you've ever driven an old Subaru Brat you know how gutless they are. They have an engine that looks with envy at a VW bug. Maybe it's not that weak, but they're pretty pathetic but Mike had us zipping up the Beeline highway at 85 miles an hour in no time at all. The whole way to Payson I was worried that the engine would blow up because with only 4 gears, the motor was wrapped up near the red line. Mike assured me that the red line was an overly conservative estimate of what the engine was actually capable of.
This was all back before the Beeline was widened to 4 lanes. It was a very twisty road with no passing lanes, but Mike zipped past the slower traffic at will. We passed Bear Rock, Sunflower, Rye, and climbed up onto the Payson mesa pretty fast.
In Payson we went to the McDonalds drive through for something to eat. Shortly after that I fell asleep and didn't wake up until we turned South on highway 191 in Springerville. I offered to drive but Mike said he felt fine and kept the pedal close to the floor as we wound our way South. I probably fell asleep again because the next thing I remember is Mike nudging me and telling me we were close. We were just passing the Hanigan's Meadow lodge and the trail head should be ahead on the left. I barely remember anything about it, but 18 months ago when I rode my motorcycle down highway 191 I instantly recognized the trail head as we passed by. It might have been the Steeple Foote Creek Trailhead. Here's a google map location of the trail head.
Steeple Creek Trailhead
Image from Google Maps
We camped at the trail head that night. I don't remember if we pitched tents or just rolled out sleeping bags, but I wasn't cold, whatever we did. I always have vivid memories when I spend a night freezing and thankfully I've had few of those in my life.
The next morning we began saddling horses and packing the mules. My dad has always loved mules and we had a couple with us on this trip. Dad rode a horse on our way in, but he also rode one of the mules around a bit during the trip. More on that later.
Sometime during our packing the Nix family pulled into the trail head to join us. I wish I could remember exactly who was with them. I'm sure the father David, and his sons Carl and Grady. There were more in their party but I'm not sure just who. They'd opted to leave really early rather than come up yesterday and stay the night. They began unloading and preparing to ride down with us.
Once we were done packing we went ahead and left without waiting for the Nix's. They said they'd be right behind us.
Steeple Creek Trail - 13 miles
Image from Google Maps
I don't remember what horse I was riding other than it was a reddish brown mare. She was not an enthusiastic mount and I constantly had to kick her to keep her moving. I wasn't wearing spurs, so don't look at me like that. Dad tried leading her but she'd just dig in her heels and Rob tried nudging her forward with his horse. Nothing worked but kicking her every few paces.
We were a couple miles down the trail and had been gently descending when we hit a big drop off. I kept working my horse down the trail but she kept shying away from the edge and freezing up so bad that she nearly pitched me over the top a few times. Finally I got off and just led her down. That was even scarier as she'd skid forward on loose stuff and nearly come over the top of me. She even tried to turn around on the narrow trail a couple times and go back up, but Rob was right behind her and would let out a blood curdling yell and whack her nose with the loose ends of his reins.
Steeple Creek Trail
Image borrowed from the Internet
About half way down it seemed to get less steep and I climbed back on. Miraculously she was much better behaved. I think she just wanted the heck off that hillside and I couldn't blame her. I wanted off both her and the hillside.
The Nix's caught up with us somewhere around here and now we formed a pretty long line with 5 of us, 6 of them, and about 15 horses between us all. We didn't kick up much dust because it had been raining in the area. In fact it was a bit muddy in spots which made it more ...... interesting at times as we'd hear a horse slip and grunt with effort to stop sliding.
It took us nearly 5 hours to reach the bottom of the canyon, ravine, valley, or whatever you want to call it where the Blue River runs. Once we reached the river we turned south and followed it for half a mile before we crossed to the east side an camped near the river. Looking at a map I think we camped here.
Our Campsite on the Blue River
Image from Google Maps
We began unpacking horses and setting up camp while Dad made lunch. I can't remember if we shared food with the Nix's or if we had separate meals. I know we ate together so I suspect we also cooked together, but it's a memory I've lost. I do remember that we nightly re-enacted the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles.
We unsaddled all the riding horses and unpacked the mules, then brushed them down and let them drink before we tethered them to some nearby trees. We might have hobbled a few, but Dad said there was just too much mud, gopher hoses, cactus and other things around to let them wander. We gave them fairly long leads so they could forage all the grass nearby and we tied them to different trees each day so they would have something to eat. At night we'd shorten the leads a bit to prevent them stumbling in the dark.
Blue River
Image borrowed from the internet
Most of the small details of the trip are gone from my memory. Individual meals, who hunted with who and when, cooking duties, conversations, jokes, latrine duties, etc. So I'll just tell you the stories I do remember.
The first day I rode with my dad and probably my brothers. We got up pretty early and saddled the horses, then headed South down the Blue River. I remember that much because of what happened the next day, but I'll get to that. We rode quite a ways down the river and up a few likely looking ravines. We usually tethered the horses at the mouth of the ravine and split up to walk up each side quietly and see if any deer were bedded down in the soft grass that grew in the middle.
The very first ravine was almost directly opposite our camp and a bit south. There was allot of deer droppings and empty acorn shells where the deer had been feeding under the trees. But there was no sign of them now. It got me thinking about just when and how the deer HAD been feeding here.
We went back down to the horses and rode on to the next ravine and repeated the maneuver. I don't remember if we took sandwiches with us or returned to camp for lunch, but we covered a pretty good amount of ground through the day.
That night I was puzzling over that first ravine and it's deer sign. I decided that we'd either made too much noise in camp that morning or we were just plain late starting off. I decided I'd have to go check the ravine very early in the morning. I wore a calculator watch back then (I was, and still am, a geek) so I set my alarm for an hour earlier than whenever we got up that first day. It might have been 4:30. I didn't really tell anyone else my plans cause they might have laughed at me.
When my alarm went off I quickly silenced it and as quietly as I could I began to dress. I'm sure several people heard me, but since there were constant trips out the tent for various reason, no one questioned what I was doing. I had on thermals and a big coat to combat the early morning chill.
I grabbed my rifle and quietly left camp to the west. I crossed the blue and headed up a small ravine just north west of camp. I wanted the ravine to the south west, but I figured I'd go over the top of the hill between the ravines so I'd have a good view down to the trees and grass. When I got far enough in I turned left and started climbing the hill. It was bare on top with lots of little sharp rocks on it. I had planned on crawling over the top, but the rocks were killing my hands and knees so I had to stand up and walk. But I hunched over as low as I could.
The sun wasn't up yet but it was hitting the tops of the mountains and ridges around us. The reflected light was more than enough to see everything around me, there were no deep shadows left and I had great views over to the next ridge. I was making more noise than I wanted and worried about spooking the dear. What I didn't worry about was prepping my rifle. I had shells in the magazine, but nothing in the chamber. I didn't want any chance of accidentally firing the rifle.
I crossed the top of the hill but couldn't see down into the ravine yet. The curvature of the hill kept me from seeing to the bottom so I figured I was still safe to move forward. But just 2 or 3 steps past the top I looked up and found a huge buck staring at me about 40 yards away. It was among the first few trees that lined the bottom of these ravines and the lower part of the hill. I was at his 10'o clock position and his neck was turned over to look at me. I had a perfect shot at his chest, except that I had no shell ready to fire.
I think I froze for a few seconds letting all the possibilities run through my head. Then as quickly as I could, I cycled the bolt, flicked off the safety and brought the rifle up to bear. The buck spooked and in one massive spring loaded leap he was off down the hill with his butt pointed at me. I got off one shot as he landed but I'm sure I missed. I was so mad at myself for not taking it slower and being more prepared.
I walked over to where he'd been standing and followed his path looking for any sign of blood, but there was none. I'd blown a fantastic opportunity with my impatience.
I checked the rest of the ravine and sure enough, I saw several spots of grass pressed flat and slowly returning to upright. There were probably several deer bedded down here last night.
I walked back to camp wondering how much ribbing I was going to get. I could smell the fire and breakfast cooking. Bacon smell travels a very long way when you're hungry.
Everyone already knew I'd missed because we'd all agreed that if we shot something, we'd fire 3 shots close together to ask the others to come and help, and I'd only fired the one shot. I don't remember exactly what all was said, but no one gave me a hard time. In fact it was the opposite, they said I'd done a great job of prediction, I just didn't have the physical skill to go along with the mental skill I'd shown. This wouldn't be the last time either.
I don't remember how or where we hunted the second day, but the third day I know I made another loop with my father. We went up the ravine behind camp and climbed the little pass over to the next series of creeks and ravines. Once again, I saw allot of deer sign and wondered if I could somehow get the drop on them.
The third day I went out by myself. After breakfast I saddled my horse and rode back toward where I'd seen all that deer sign. But this time I figured I wouldn't go down into the ravine to get the deer, I'd sit and wait for them to come to me.
When I got close to the top of the pass, I found a good spot for my horse and tethered her to a tree, then I quietly climbed the south shoulder above the pass and found a big rock behind a bush where I could sit and watch the entire pass. The pass was mostly empty of trees so if any deer crossed, I'd see them. The east ravine had allot of trees, grass, and acorns, but no water. The west side had the Blue River, so I figured the deer would have to cross one way or the other for either water or feed.
I settled myself down to wait and my rifle loaded and ready this time. All I had to do was flick off the safety and aim. My rifle was a 7mm Remington with a pretty good scope on it. Dad had helped me sight it in a few weeks before the trip and I'd put enough rounds through it to feel pretty good about my chances with a stationary deer. I had no feel or skill with anything moving though.
As I sat there waiting, the boredom began to get to me. I'm sure it was several hours (15 minutes) before I pulled out a computer magazine and began to take short quick glances (read whole articles) at the magazine. I read and watched as the sun came up and began to cook the patch of trees on the east side of the pass.
I don't remember exactly how long it was, but at some point I noticed someone else was over across to the east of me on the next hill. Whoever it was came down the hill at a diagonal, then switched and continued down going the other way until they were down in the very bottom.
I kept a half eye on the person because I didn't want to accidentally mistake him for a deer. It would have been hard because we all had on the bright orange vests and hats which made us stand out for miles, but still I wanted to be careful. He meandered back and forth through the patch of trees, always working his way toward me. I'd glance up every so often to see his progress until he slowly began to climb the hill leading up to my little pass. He was about half way up before I realized it was my dad coming up.
I got up and walked part way down to meet him. I think I was going to ask what the heck he was doing. He got to the question first. "What the heck are you doing up here??" he asked. I told him I was waiting for a deer to come up.
"There have been at least 4 deer come over this pass! I was walking the hill and spooking them toward you. Why didn't you shoot one?"
My 2nd great idea
Image from Google Maps
I hung my head and showed dad the magazine. "I was reading" I said. I don't know if he was mad, disappointed, or ready to bust out laughing at that point. I was so embarrassed and that's all I can remember. He didn't yell or belittle me at all, but he did say "You can walk back to camp. I'm going to take your horse and go get mine, I left her on the far side of that next hill."
So I hefted my rifle and walked on back to camp. This time I remember that there was a whole lot of laughter and back slapping as I told everyone the tale every time they came back to camp for lunch.
I think it was this same day that dad realized he'd forgotten something at the trucks. We had taken 5 hours to come down the trail which would mean an even longer trek uphill to the trucks, making an 11 hour round trip. Dad saddled up his favorite mule Izzy and not long after lunch he took off. Rather than following the trail we came down, he just turned the mule straight toward the trucks and took off. He was back in less than 3 hours. That made me understand why dad loved mules so much. He said Izzy just walked up the steepest hills without hardly slowing down.
Dad on a mule
Dad on Moonshine (not Izzy and not this trip)
A few more things happened that day if I remember correctly. Somewhere in the afternoon, we heard a shot, then a few minutes later 3 shots in a row. Since all of us Jones's were in camp, one of the Nix's had gotten something. My impression is that they didn't make it back to camp until very late because the deer they'd shot was in a very bad spot and took hours to extricate. They were tired and scratched up by the time they rode into camp.
Several times through the trip we had all joked about what a great trip it was, and that the only thing that could spoil it was if someone actually shot something. Now it seemed that prediction was coming true.
That night dad left Izzy with a long tether so
Dad was absolutely heart broken.
My father was a veterinarian and if we were home, dad would have spared no effort to bind the leg and place Izzy in traction to let the leg mend. But we were 12 miles from the trucks, and 250 miles from home. There was just no way to get
I think dad took is pistol out of his holster and stared at it a while before he put it back away and said "There's no hurry.
After breakfast we all headed back out to do a bit of hunting, but no one's heart was in it. I think I was with Dave and maybe Mike.
Sometime in the afternoon we heard a shot, then like 15 minutes later we heard the 3 shots again. But this time it was from the direction dad and Rob had taken, so we knew it had to be them. We hurried back to the camp and saddled some horses, then rode North looking for them.
They were a few miles up the river on the east side. They were huddled around a carcass well up the side of the canyon. We rode as close as we could, then Dave took his horse on up because his was the best climber.
After a bit they came back down but dad didn't look very happy. It turned out he'd shot a doe. We had a tag for anything, but dad hadn't wanted to waste it on a doe, he wanted a big buck. In fact he hadn't actually wanted to hit the deer and hadn't thought he could.
Dad was mostly there to help us boys to shoot something. Dad was carrying a 357 rifle which shoots the same round as his pistol. He likes only having to carry one type of ammo, but the 357 round doesn't have anywhere near the punch as my 7mm or any of the other hunting rifles.
Dad and Rob were on one ridge and spotted the doe about 100 yards away, high up on another ridge. Dad had just sighted in and fired, only wanting to see how much drop the round would have. He was totally flabbergasted when the legs of the deer splayed out and it dropped stone cold dead with a perfect shot to the heart.
The day was waning by then and we were headed home in the morning, so really, there wasn't much chance of getting anything else anyway. We meandered back to camp riding doubled up to share our news with the Nix's.
The next morning we got up and began packing up camp. Dad, Dave, and Rob had quartered and deboned as much of the doe as we were going to pack out, then hung the meat to let all the blood drain over night. Then he packed it in gunnysacks and added it to what remained of our provisions. We packed the camp, saddled the horses, and cleaned up every bit of trash we hadn't burned.
I'm not sure exactly what the Nix's did, but I think their deer (a small buck) was still whole. My memory keeps showing me a horse with a massive lump on his back and deer hooves sticking out from under a tarp tied over his back. I remember Carl swearing and trying to get the hooves to stay in tight so they wouldn't catch on passing trees and bushes.
Finally the camp was all set and ready to go.... except for Izzy.
Dad told us to stay with the horses and walked down the trail to where we'd left Izzy. He couldn't put it off any longer.
But after 10 minutes, dad came walking back up the trail. There'd been no gunshot. He said he just couldn't do it. Izzy deserved a chance to live and he was going to give it to
We all climbed on our horses and started back up the trail. We hadn't gone very far when someone yelled that Izzy was following us. We all stopped to look and there
She did that over and over as she caught up with us. We stared at each other in amazement. It must be excruciating, but Izzy wasn't about to be left behind.
Dad told the rest of us to go on up and he'd stay back with Izzy. We all kind of wanted to move along slowly, but we knew it would take us a very long time to get back to the trucks, so we went.
If I thought my horse was stubborn coming down, she was 10 times worse going up. I had to get off and lead her time after time as we'd come to a switchback. She just wouldn't go around them with me on her back. Soon I was left far behind everyone else trying to deal with her, but I knew dad and Izzy were still back behind me so I wasn't worried.
I was about 3/4 of the way back when she just plain stopped. No amount of pushing, pulling, or slapping would get her to move. Just about that time Rob came back. He said they'd made it to the truck and unloaded the horses, and now he was going back to help dad. He told me just to tie her to a tree and walk on up to the trucks.
Dad, Rob, and Izzy made it back about an hour after me. He said they'd tried for 10 minutes to get my horse to move, but she just stood there ignoring everything. They gave her some water and a bit of oats, then left her right where I had. Izzy had made the entire climb on her broken leg and dad quickly gave her an injection of painkiller and antibiotics.
Dad, Mike, and Rob were all going to stay the night at the trail head before driving home, but Dave had to be back to work the next morning. So we got in my Brat and headed home. This time I drove most of the way and let Dave get some sleep so he wouldn't be too tired the next morning.
As we got close to Mesa, I realized that I was on autopilot and headed to our apartment, but we had moved out and now I needed to head to our new home. A home I'd never slept in, nor even walked into for 2 months. On top of that, Nannette had taken the kids and gone to visit her sister in Tucson. I wondered if I could even remember which house it was. But I turned south and crossed Mesa toward my new house.
I turned into the neighborhood that I hoped I now lived in and took another couple of turns that put me onto Garnet. I stopped in front of the house that I was pretty sure was mine. I asked Dave if he wanted to come in, but he said no thanks. He climbed into the driver's seat, closed the door and drove off. Luckily I'd remembered to get my new house key off of my key ring.
The house was dark and quiet as I walked up to the front door and inserted the key. It fit and turned easily, so I opened the door and walked in. The house was filled with boxes and I nearly tripped as I felt around for the light switch. We hadn't setup the waterbed yet, so I probably slept on the couch.
Later that week when Nan came home and we drove to Tolleson to get the Brat back from Dave. We stopped by my parent's house and saw Izzy out in the corral behind the house. She was doing just fine.
Over time, Izzy's leg healed. Dad said that the muscles in Izzy's leg formed a false socket for the broken bone to rest in and that by the time they got home he couldn't put it back completely, but the muscle strengthened enough to hold the bone in place until it could re-knit even though it wasn't straight.
Rob told me that when he want back to get my horse she was raring and anxious to get to the trucks. Spending the night with no other horses or people nearby probably spooked her enough to get her moving.
Rob, Dad, and Dave on mules (not this trip)
About 1992 at Mac Colorado, picture by Dale Slade on Izzy
Rob's on Uno, Dad's on Micky, and Dave's on Moonshine
