Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Herald and news. (Klamath Falls, Or.) 1942-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 21, 1958)
PAG TWO HERALD AND NEWS; KLAMATH FALLS. OREGON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1958 -J T ten V v. 1 ffr" dA1 f Mj5tt1'' Tt-- c$'- v. -5 a CONTENTED HORSES GRAZING in a high mountain meadow make a picture to warm the heart of any outdoorsman. This picture shows the horse pasture at the first night's stop on the annual Modoc Tribe Ride. Some 20 or more miles from Alturas, it is at the site of Pepperdine's Creek, is an easy starter for the journey that carries the riders . way over the high hump and down to Mill Creek on a four day ri . xl I xx xl An ' I 1 1 ywar uierv were PBTTer man tu noers on me Trip. Shields all the de. This o o o By BILL JENKINS Just a month aco saw the men who took the annual Modoc Tribe Ride returning to Alturas after a! most four days spent in the moun tains, riding the trails to the high places, wending their way through creek bottoms and pausing beside lovely luKes. As I -recall the figures there were 52 names on the list when O. D. Morgan, Chief Eagle Peak, finally got them all set down in order. Not all of these men rode, ef course. Some of them came up to the first night's stop at Pep's camp, eight or 10 miles from the starting point, for the festivities. Others drove over to Mill Creek meadows to join the parly. And there were a handful who rode the pickups in and out with the gear, the food and the cooking gear. A wide representation is noted en the ride. There are ranchers and cowboys, cooks and news hounds, garage mechanics and gome wardens, bartenders and clerks, businessmen and a sprin kling of executives. All are there for the sole purpose of enjoying themselves in lhe outdoors and in the company of fellow outdoors men and wilderness lovers. The trip gets under way around noon on Thursday, jumping off point Doing a ranch some 14 miles from Alturas. Itiders take off in nine miles, puts you into camp A good horse pasture, well fenced is there along with the buildings of the camp. Each man spreads his sleeping bag out under the trees, blows up his air mattress and then heads for the makeshift bar to take part in the children's nour. Dinner is .cooked on a mas sive outdoor grill by the culinary artists while most of the rest of the members either take part in or waicn a red not horse shoe pitch ing contest which Droirmtlv sets unuer way. Breakfast call is not ton earlv A night of yarning under the stars and catching up with the story telling leave everyone well ready iur a souna nignt s sleep. Alter a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs and bacon and toast and fruit and coffee stout enough to grow, nair on a steel spike the norses are run in and saddled, sandwiches are constructed and stowed in saddle bags, cameras are loaded with color film and the party takes off up the trail for Paterson Lake and the noonday stop. The camp gear is loaded onto the pickups and they take the roundabout way back to Al turas, out to Likely, through Jess Valley and over the ridge to Mill Creek. , The Forest Service sign that I saw says it is 13 miles from meadows. You can look out and see basins stretching below you. Then you top out on the ridge and see Surprise Valley on the tar side, the glint of sun on tin barn roofs and the feel that you are-really up in the eagles coun try. Skirting the immense stone rims. still clutching patches of snow to their bosoms, you work your way scattered groups, heading ud into I Pep's to Mill Creek. I am a irreat the hills and Pep's camp, now j admirer, mostly, of t h e Forest owned by Randall Collis who Service, and wouldn't hurt their proved a genial host Indeed. Thojfeelings for the world. But, still route lays along Miieids Creek. Cattle graze along the clearings, the pines are warm and soft in the sunshine and ahead there is always the lure of the mountains the Warners. An easy ride, maybe eight or 1 have certain physiological reasons lor believing that they underes timated that distance. However, be that as it may, the trip is a beautiful one. The horses ' climb for the first hour, winding through strips of forest, crossing huge THE COVER Cash Lighlner of Al turas was trying his luck fishing in Pater son Take when this pic ture was taken. The occasion was the an nual Modoc Tribe Ride. Showing the elevation takes only a look at the snow banks reaching down into the clear waters of the lake across the tiny lake. This picture was taken on August 15 at high noon. Cash didn't have any luck although fish have been caught here. up to Paterson Lake, a tinv. clear, cold body of water with long fin gers of snow reaching down to the waters edge. (See cover). Lunch is called for here. The horses un saddled and allowed to rest and graze on the lush grass. From the lake the parly climbs" sun nigner, sKirting the Pine Creek Basin. Here one party splits off to go through the Basin, an other follows around the rim to the outlet to watch the deer. While we didn't see as manv deer this year as we have in some others they were flushing like pheasants as we approached our viewpoint on the rim. One old four point buck with a rack mat would put him well into the record class, almost ran down the tied norses and a band of does and fawns did burst through the tethered groun of horses. Those of us in the advance par ty stationed ourselves in the rocks above the gap in the rim and wailed. Soon we cou Id Dick out the forms of running deer far be low in the Basin as the deer spooked ahead of the riders. A magnificent sight. This country is an game preserve and the big ducks nave really got moss their horns. From the high rim the parly urups oown a sleep slope to the wandering little Mill Creek, riding through immense thickets of skunk cabbage. Does hide their fawns here and you can almost step on one of the little fellows without seeing him. A few miles after you hit the comparative level you find vnur. self at Mill Creek meadows and home camp. Here there is a big horse pasture with a catch pen, the fence mended and tight, tbe grass lush and the trees shading one of the prettiest little streams in the West. Camp is made here Friday night, the party staying over all day Saturday. There is plenty to do. A horse shoe pitching court is soon laid out and the game is on. Fisher men wander up and down the creek. And the fishing was good, too. So were the fish. Others lie around and loaf. Saturday night sees a poker session in the best tradition. The food is plentiful and delicious. The air is sun-filled one minute and dripping with rain the next. No matter. It takes more than an occasional shower to damp en spirits on a trip like this. Sunday morning'a leisurely start is made after camp is broken. This year the party I went along with came out by way of Jess Valley. Another pretty ride through new country, a chance to tear your way through some love ly mahogany thickets and fir blow- downs and the welcome sight of the refreshment wagon when you hit the valley floor Not enough rain to worry about. Some slight confusion about transferring horses from here back to the starting point and the ride is over for another year. I emptied the blood out of my boots and hit the highway for home through a blinding rainstorm. Another won derful trip with a lot of swell guys and through some of God's chosen wilderness. Now all we have to do is wait another year and we can go again. count me in. (The pictures with this article were taken, mostly, during periods of drizzle. But they do give some idea of the life these fortunate men lead for four days.)
