Boxers, Pesso, and a Good Ol' Horse Chase
By noon, the sun was high, beating down as we worked to get ready for the trip. The morning had been a flurry of effort—rounding up the horses from the pasture, brushing them down, and saddling them up. Pesso, our pack horse, stood patiently as we secured the gear: a chainsaw, fuel, ropes, food, sleeping bags, and all the essentials for a few days in the backcountry. The air was filled with the sounds of creaking leather, tightening ropes, and the occasional clink of metal as we double-checked every strap and knot. By the time we were finally set, we were already feeling the weight of the work, but the sight of the trail ahead made it all worth it.
The camp was three hours from the lodge: one hour of flat terrain, followed by a grueling two-hour ascent up a zigzagging mountain path. The serenity of the meadow gave way to the sharp buzz of the chainsaw as we began clearing the overgrown trail. I, Aaron, was manning the chainsaw, but exhaustion caught up with me, and my foot slipped. The blade nicked my leg, tearing through my pants but leaving only a superficial cut. Annalena, my girlfriend, rushed over with a look of alarm that quickly turned to relief when she realized it wasn’t serious.
We reached Glacier Camp and all took a minute to relax before dealing with the horses. Playboy was staked, Scotty was dragging his lead rope, and Pesso was sidelined, all of them munching on grass. We set about making firewood and tidying up the site. That night, we chose to sleep under the stars, the Milky Way sprawling across the inky sky above us. The crisp mountain air made our sleeping bags feel like luxury cocoons, and the sound of the horses’ gentle snorts lulled us into sleep.
The next morning, Annalena decided to let the horses enjoy a leisurely breakfast before we packed up to head back to the lodge. She took Pesso and tied a bull line around his leg with a 30-foot rope, intending to secure him to a tree. However, Pesso started walking away too quickly for her to secure the rope to the tree. Annalena yelled for me, and I jolted awake, still half-dreaming. Clad only in my boxers, I threw on my boots without bothering to tie them and charged after Pesso.
The morning chill hit me like a slap as I splashed through the glacier-fed creek, the icy water soaking my legs. Pesso, meanwhile, had transitioned from a walk to a trot, dragging Annalena along with him. I managed to catch up and grabbed the rope, attempting to halt the determined horse. But Pesso was on a mission, and his strength far outmatched mine. He yanked me forward, and I stumbled down the trail, gripping the rope for dear life.
Realizing I needed leverage, I flung myself around a slender tree, anchoring the rope against its trunk. Pesso, spooked by the sudden tension, pulled harder, and the tree creaked ominously. With a final heave, the horse ripped the tree from the ground, sending me sprawling into a shallow riverbed littered with rocks and moss.
I groaned as I pushed myself up, covered in scrapes and sporting rope burns on three fingers. Pesso stood nearby, his ears twitching as if to say, “What’s the hold-up?” Speaking softly, I approached him cautiously, stroking his neck until his breathing slowed. Once he was calm, I led him back to camp, where Annalena met me with an apologetic grin.
“Sorry about the fun,” she said sheepishly.
The commotion had roused the rest of the crew. Lionie, David, and Lily emerged from their sleeping bags, rubbing their eyes and asking what all the racket was about. They saw me walking back to camp in my boxers, leading Pesso, clearly banged up from the ordeal. I recounted the tale as we packed up camp, earning a round of laughter at my unintentional river dive.
The journey back down the mountain was uneventful by comparison, but no less beautiful. The meadow shimmered in the midday sun, and the scent of pine hung heavy in the air. As we rode, I felt a deep appreciation for the rugged splendor of the wilderness and the camaraderie of our little group.
By the time we reached the lodge, the day had turned golden, casting long shadows over the valley. My side ached, and my fingers throbbed, but I couldn’t help but smile. This adventure—with its mishaps and moments of hilarity—was one for the books. And as I glanced at Pesso, who was now peacefully grazing in the field in front of the lodge, I couldn’t help but think that Annalena will never forget to tie the rope to the tree first.
- Aaron Bracewell
