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Tip o' the Day

An old packer's adage goes: "Two men pack same horse, neither man packs either side."

How true. One man slings his pack a little higher, pulls his ropes a little tighter, secures his knots a little firmer than the man working the horse's other side. Result? Lopsided packs after your packstring is underway, and if you don't stop to better balance your lash-up, a saddle rolled to one side and a sored packhorse.

Most professional packers I know prefer to sling packs for both sides of the animal they're loading. If two men are working together, each packs a separate horse. That way, a packer can eyeball packs for both sides, sizing up bulk and length, hefting them to estimate weight. Then he'll sling those packs according to some inner computer that tells him one must be lashed a tad higher or tighter, or tied so it can swing more readily with the horse's motion.

It's a fact that a longer or bulkier pack will exert more pull on a packsaddle than a smaller pack of the same weight. Given an assortment of loads of approximate weight, an experienced packer will try to pair his longer packs together. He'll do the same with bulky ones.

One problem inherent with all packers is packs are seldom precisely alike. Even two bales of hay or two sacks of oats may differ. This hay bale weighs a couple of pounds more or is loose-strung; that pack of oats is mantied (wrapped in canvas) a little tighter. The knowledgeable packer compensates for the difference as he slings the loads. I've seen some awful looking loads ride like charms for great distances -- like heavy nine-foot bridge planks Back Country Horsemen packed for the Salmon Forks Bridge, some years ago. Packed two to a side, the three-inch planks were offset by a solid compact, 90-pound bag of cement.

Awkward appearing? Yes, but worked for hundreds of horse loads.

Why not pack planks on both sides? The planks were so long they thrust high and forward, sometimes nearly to the horse's ears. Even then they occasionally dragged on the ground. That was easy enough along the low side of trails winding along steep mountainsides, but tough on the trail's upper side.

That's the "why" for packing cement (also used in bridge reconstruction) on the uphill side. Worked like a charm.

Just a small thank you for your program. Such a wealth of information you share with us! * Betty Reinertson / Hot Springs, MT

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Our local radio station carries your program -- it's so "down to earth" and real. We just enjoy listening to you; you could have an hour program and I'd be sure to listen to it * Matt & Bette Pohlmeier / Hutchinson, MN

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We listen every morning for the adventures to be told on the radio. We love the stories. I picture in my mind where you are. We enjoy every one told. I admire your wife. Thank you so much for the adventures you take us on. * Jerrie Goodman / Buffalo, WY

I enjoy listening to your radio program * Kenneth Grabner / Baker, OR

Enjoy your radio spots very much * Jim Bjorkman / Ferdig, MT

Enjoy your program at 7:10 a.m. on KBBS Buffalo. I'm in a wheelchair and my wife is on oxygen, so we'll never see the Bob Marshall Wilderness through our own eyes first hand. But we can see it through your book. Please autograph it to Mary Lou Hudson, Christmas, 1994 -- "enjoy God's Handiwork." * Rodney Hudson / Buffalo, WY

I enjoy your morning contribution on KERR Radio and thank you for sharing your wit and wisdom, both on the radio and in Montana Magazine * John Deegan / Charlo, MT

I listen to your radio program as often as I can and very much enjoy the "downhome folksy" format that is projected. I wish you continued success and look forward to future programs * Alan Sevier / Glendive, MT

To start, enjoy your radio show on KLBM. We "play" in the Eagle Caps here in Oregon and can relate to your stories regarding packing and chasing elk * Glen Herman / LaGrande, OR

We enjoy your program very much. Please thank your sponsors for helping keep your progam on the air * Ann Benjamin / Shelby, MT

I love your program on the radio and listen as often as possible! We love your "laid back" voice and topics we can relate to. Thanks for taking us "outdoors" on our way to work in the morning * Beth Brunson / Ellensburg, WA

From the lovely way Roland refers to his life's partner, I addressed this card to both of you: You have explored and enjoyed the Northern Rockies -- when I hear your program it's almost as tho I've smelled the pine, I've seen the sunrise and I've heard the elk bugle. I'm glad you've been able to do so and thank you for sharing your joy with me and countless others * M.L. Jackson / Bozeman, MT

HAVE YOU TOLD MOM THAT YOU LOVE HER?

* It was not unexpected. My friend's mother had been in declining health for some time, ebbing, ebbing, then interspersed with occasional periods of brief gain. When my friend emailed that his mother had finally slipped away, he added that her loss was a reminder that we can never tell those we care about the most how much they mean to us.

I wrote the following column ten years ago. But if you'll permit me, I'd like to reprint it as especially appropriate today:

Mothers are strange. It's a fact of life I never discovered until I'd spent considerable years in abstract observation. Certainly the thought never once crossed my mind while nursling or toddler. Though I did begin to ascertain a modicum of difference in the opposite sex as a teenager, I would've never dared voiced such heresy. But from the distance of years -- well, women are indeed strange. Why wouldn't their peculiarities carry over into motherhood?

My mother, for instance, was what most folks would call a forceful woman -- it was not in her character to accept either abuse or slight from man or beast. My wife's mother, on the other hand, never -- ever -- said boo to anyone, male or female, child or adult.

My mother never spared the rod on her children, assuming (or having it forced upon her) the burden of discipline for her three rebellious sons. Jane's mother, it is certain, never so much as raised her voice, let alone her finger, toward her two hellion boys and one demure daughter. So how could it be that each of the children turned out okay? Could it be because none of the kids suffered for want of affection?

My recollection of a stern mother is tempered by realizing how hard the woman worked to see that our clothes were washed and mended, food timely and tasty, hurts kissed and bandaged. She was indeed a welcome presence in time of need.

Jane's mother (and my wife was the girl next door, so I knew her mother from the vantage of my own childhood) also served as medic and counselor, seamstress and cook, cheerleader and bottlewasher. She, too, worked hard in times of financial hardship to make her home a loving, living place of refuge and harmony.

Two decidedly different women in temperament and determination, with but one thing in common: they were mothers who unreservedly loved their children. One may have been blind to a child's faults or frailties, while the other worked overtime to correct them. But again, both loved without reservation, and forever.

My mother died early, over forty years ago. It is to my discredit that she was gone before I figured out all those things she'd so willingly given. Jane's mother still lives and loves. She's so frail now that her shadow has to turn sideways to cast an image, and she sometimes struggles to recall things of the moment that is important to her and to us. But the same loving heart beats in Jane's mother as the one that's stilled now in my mother.

It's a funny thing about those hearts, too -- they expand. Isn't it a wonder that that same loving heart that beats for their own child can expand to blanket their grandchildren and even great grandchildren?

Up there somewhere, I hope my mother can look down with some perverse pride that the son who gave her such cause to worry has, at the least, become no burden to society.

Mothers are that way, you see. They're as different from each other as pebbles on a beach. Some may be coarse, some may be smooth. some may be strong, some weak. Some may cuddle and some may drive. But all share instincts that tell them in no uncertain terms that they want the best for their children, and will go to any extreme to help the offspring achieve their own dreams.

Mothers live and love and share and care. Their own kids achievements have little to do with quantifying their motherly love. President's mothers bubble with no more pride than a dog-trainer's mother.

No matter. All cherish the words, "Mom, I love you. It's a funny thing about this thing called "love" -- the poorest reason for you to tell her you love her is to make her feel good. The best reason to do so is because the very act of love makes you a better man, or a better woman. It's knowing that you have become a better person that brings warm feelings to Mom everywhere.

Have you told your mother how much you love her?

 

 

Roland Cheek wrote a syndicated outdoors column (Wild Trails and Tall Tales) for 21 years. The column was carried in 17 daily and weekly newspapers in two states. In addition, he scripted and broadcast a daily radio show (Trails to Outdoor Adventure) that aired on 75 stations from the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Ocean. He's also written upwards of 200 magazine articles and 12 fiction and nonfiction books. For more on Roland, visit:

www.rolandcheek.com

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Josephine Ludy Viola (Rose) Cheek 1903 - 1953

Myrtis Iva (Posey) Wingfield 1910 - 20001