The group met up at the Phoenix airport. We rented a couple of large vans and drove almost eight hours East to the rendezvous spot in the Gila Wilderness. Once in the national forest, the roads became rough and full of pot holes. It soon got dark and we began to encounter small fires and lots of smoke. Fortunately, there were several fire crews who let us know that our destination was not in a fire zone. Just a mile or two short of arriving, one of the vans got a flat tire. It was a slow leak so we limped along and arrived at the camp around 10:00 pm. There we met our guides who had already set up tents and furnished us with burgers and beer!

The next day, our plan was to ride deeper into the wilderness to our base camp. Prepping and saddling up the horses took many hours and it soon became apparent that the guides were unprepared for a group our size. We finally mounted up and, with virtually no instructions, set off. Fortunately, there were no serious mishaps. Our base camp at 7,000 feet, was in a deep canyon next to a running stream. The tents were set up and the beer was slightly chilled.

The next two days, we did group rides from camp. The first day we followed the stream and eventually came to the site of an ancient cliff dwelling, which we explored. The third day, we rode along the Middle Fork of the Gila River, flanked by majestic canyon walls. Each night we bathed in the stream, drank warm beer (or whiskey), were regaled by Dave and Marty’s music, and sat around the camp fire. Wrangler Ray and John Kohl shared some hilarious jokes. The following day we returned to the trailhead, where we camped for the night. The next morning we got in the vans for the eight hour drive back to Phoenix. Here we stayed in a delightful, if kitschy, hotel and enjoyed showers, drinks and a celebratory dinner. Finally, we departed for home the following morning.

This trip was not without mishaps, which could have been quite serious. Tom was thrown from his beloved mule, Belle. He received a large gash in his head and a separated shoulder. Ken’s saddle was loose when he went to mount his horse, Cliff. He ended up underneath and was kicked four times, leaving some major black and blue marks! Another time, Cliff, took off up a steep hill and nearly fell back on top of Ken. Our consensus was that the outfitters were not at all prepared for a group this size. There should have been at least two more wranglers to ensure that the group stayed together. In spite of these incidents, it was a fun and unique experience.