PAG TWO
HERALD AND NEWS; KLAMATH FALLS. OREGON
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1958
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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.)