The Mule Chronicles...Episode 4

I felt like this was a fitting photo to include with Episode 4 of the Great Mule Adventure as it was taken moments before Stuart and I would start our adversarial interactions. I should also note that this episode is brought to you by A.A. Callisters, Cabela's, and Visa - Making unaffordable dreams come true since 1992. 

Episode 4 is the first official day of hunting and my first attempt at riding a mule. The day started before dawn with Bill and Jay riding out in search of deer and to survey the land for the much anticipated, and primary focus of our trip, opening day of elk season on Saturday. Dad and I stayed behind and decided to scope out areas closer to camp that were accessible via the truck followed by a nice afternoon mule ride. 

Having lived in Idaho once before I felt like I was well prepared for the cold. Oh how time makes one forget, but I digress. I begin what would be come my dressing ritual for the next several days with the first of what was likely 37 layers of clothing. Liner socks, a lightweight base layer of synthetic long underwear with space age foil reflective liner to conserve body heat, heavy boot socks (Carhartt, just like real cowboys), mid-weight mid layer fleece long underwear in forrest green to make sure the deer can't see me just in case my outer layers fall off, Duluth Trading Firehose pants and flannel shirt, Gore-tex space age laser printed fall pine forest camouflage print oh crap i dropped them and now can't find them outer rain pants and matching jacket, super insulated boots likely a byproduct of some secret space program but adapted for hunting use by applying the aforementioned camouflage pattern, matching camouflage gloves that are so insulated i can barely hold a gun much less shoot one, and to top it all off...wait for it...a fur and synthetic insulated hat used by the native people of the north pole in BLAZE ORANGE! Side note, if you haven't noticed my head is huge! I'm not kidding, H.U.G.E.!!! The guy at the cowboy hat store kept bringing me the wrong size because he didn't believe that my head was that unbalanced from the rest of my body. This is a really big hat which translates to way too much blaze orange, even for me (Again, those of you that know me well, know I love me a bright orange, yellow, or green anything...literally, anything). So riddle me this Batman. Why do I need any camouflage if I have to wear a blaze orange hat? Especially one that large. Are deer blind to the color orange? Have deer looked into the sun so many times that seeing a blaze orange hat makes them think they are just seeing the sun? Again, I digress. 

I waddle out of the trailer and start trying to get into the truck while scenes for A Christmas Story and Ralphie falling over and not being able to get up because of his enormous winter-wear race through my head. Somehow I successfully enter the truck and we have a rather uneventful drive to various locations where we sit and stare at the wilderness and see...wait for it...absolutely nothing! Well not absolutely nothing, we saw a chipmunk but I didn't have any tags for chipmunk and was shooting a gun that would pretty much vaporize anything smaller than a moose (338 Lapua Magnum for my gun savvy followers). 

Now it is during this part of the trip that I also have to try how to remember how to poop in the wild. I tried my best to remember anything I learned in the Boy Scouts about this activity, but completely fail to recall a "Field Elimination" merit badge. Upon holding it so long that I can no longer sit squarely on the seat of the truck, I finally resolve myself to leaving part of my Chuck-A-Rama meal in a remote corner of the Gem State. Upon selecting a scenic locale for this impending feat of strength, I realize I may have waited a bit too long given the 37 layers of clothing standing between me and gastrointestinal relief. I break into a cold sweat as I frantically rip off layer after layer of the finest clothing Cabela's and Duluth Trading has to offer. I'll spare you the finer details of this event but will say I'm pretty sure I slipped a disk trying to balance sticking my rear end out far enough while bent over because I lacked the practical experience to adequately judge the arc and falling speed of human waste in a 15 MPH crosswind. 

We returned to camp to eat our lunch and prepare for the after noon mule excursion. We also required a break to change into appropriate mule riding attire. Mind you, it's still cold so this really just involves rearranging the layers I already have on so that Duluth is now on the outside and camouflage is on the inside. It's kind of like changing NASCAR sponsors but I have been repeatedly informed that the outfit must match the activity so I dutifully comply. 

I'm treated to my first mule saddling lesson which I watch as intently as a starving dog eyeballing a errant piece of bacon because I'm pretty sure there will be a test later. I then watch dad "hop" (Yes, I literally mean hop) into the saddle on Stuart, jump up and down, side to side, then hop off, and declare it fit for me to ride. Dad then hops onto his mule, Annie, and tells me to get on Stuart. I figure no sweat, I got this. Oh, how naive my thinking was. I attempt to put my left foot into the stirrup only to realize my leg doesn't lift or bend that high on its own. I then resort to hoisting my leg into the stirrup by yanking on my pants leg, firmly planting my boot deep into the stirrup. I attempt to hoist myself onto Stuart only to have my right leg kick Stuart squarely in the hind quarter. I'm pretty sure this is when Stuart decided he wasn't having any of what I was offering and hatched a plan to dissuade me from riding. I know this because Stuart turned his head to look at me and had I been listening closely, I'm pretty sure he said something to the effect of "I'll show you a kick in the rear." 

By some grace of God I manage to get my leg over the saddle and am trying to plant my foot in the stirrup when Stuart launches his first attack. Stuart begins what feels like some sort of perverted square dance move and I get the first inclination that things are not going to go well for me. Stuart continues his audition for Dancing with the Stars and I quickly realize I am coming off this mule despite my best attempts to hold on. The next series of events happened in the flash of a second, but time slowed as I suddenly became a far less graceful version of Neo in The Matrix. Upon becoming completely airborne my subconscious decides that the best approach to this unplanned aerial event is to apply the cat approach to falling, thereby signaling my fight or flight system to make my body go flat as a pancake. I'm not sure if my brain thought this would make me more aerodynamic or if my subconscious was in cahoots with Stuart but it became abundaently clear this would not end well for me. I'm pretty sure I was high enough to see two counties over, but my sense of distance was likely unreliable as my mind was trying to reconcile why I was so far above my mule. As I proceed rapidly toward the ground, I'm pretty sure Stuart was openly mocking me at this point. I would have landing flat on my face but thankfully my recently procured Stetson cowboy hat's brim acted like a kickstand for my face but my body hit the gravel parking lot like a freight train. All traces of air were immediately evacuated from my lungs and I made a sound like a helium ballon expelling its gas as it races through there air in a death spiral. I stand up only to hear my loving father ask, "So, is the the end of our mule ride?" While walking around the parking lot buckled over at the waist and gasping for breath I manage to eek out, "no, no, no, just need to catch my breath and pick up any body parts I left on the ground." I managed to gather myself, reattach my spleen, and take another stab at hoisting myself into the saddle. My efforts were not in vain and I managed to plant myself firmly in the saddle only to realize Stuart is still tied to the trailer. The prospect of getting off and back on seemed grim so I decided to risk another premature ejection by reaching over Stuart's head to untie him. Apparently Stuart now feared I might shoot him and he allowed me to perform my feat of equine ballet and untie him from the trailer. 

At this point we tried to set out on our ride only to find out that Annie refuses to be the lead mule. This leaves the mule ride virgin who has already been ejected once to lead the ride. Daddy didn't raise no quitter so off we went as I channeled my deepest Elder genes in an effort to act like I know what I am doing. This lasts about five minutes before Stuart decides he's having none of it. Apparently Stuart thought it would be funny to make U-turns whenever I wanted to turn left or right. Mind you, I have no clue what I'm doing since the extent of my prior horse/mule riding experience involved merry-go-arounds and seriously habituated trail horses that require no rider input to travel their route. Stuart did his best tornado impression until dad finally chimed in with some mule riding wisdom about how to steer a mule. I was finally able to get Stuart to go where I wanted him to go and I was now all that is man, majestic in his conquest of the outdoors, and ruggedly handsome to boot. The remainder of the ride was fairly uneventful aside from Stuart walking as close as possible to every low hanging branch, limb, and other obstacle in what I am pretty sure was an attempt to dislodge what he likely deemed to be the unnecessary baggage of his rider. Clearly he was not impressed with the surging testosterone and firm grasp of western cowboy culture that I assimilated since being ejected from his back earlier. 

This pretty much covered the notable events of day four, but don't worry because days five and six are even more exciting and eventful. For those who believe that lightening can't strike twice, let me assure you that on this trip lightening struck not only twice but three times for me, once for Dad, and once for Jay. And by lightening I mean the previously unknown mule rider auto ejector sequence to which I was introduced on Day four. I should have bought a lotto ticket instead of hunting tags.