The Mule Chronicles...Episode 6

Yes, we’re on vacation. Yes, we’re traveling. Yes, it’s my anniversary. No, it really is fine because Lynn understands what living with a celebrity is like and knows that sometimes, the fans come first. Ok, so we’re actually resting back in the room because we ate way too much and needed to rest before our dinner reservations at 7:30.

Today begins much like every other day on this exercise in mule-capades; Bill getting up before everyone else and riding far away from the rest of us. Are you all seeing the same trend that I am? Yep, clearly Bill is way too trusting with his mules or he knows when to flee an impending train wreck.

Having discussed our options the night before, we decided we would “sleep” on any planning of the next day's adventures and decide in the morning. Well now it’s morning and upon Jay inquiring about whether or not we are going for a ride, Dad and I (almost in unison) say, “nope!” Jay quickly responds with, “that’s probably best for all of us.” Clearly none of us sustained head injuries in the previous day’s mule olympics because we were still smart enough to know when to say when. Now, stop your laughing. I know it took 3 times as many times of me being bucked off for me to reach the same conclusion but some folks would say I can be as stubborn as a pound mutt on a Thanksgiving turkey leg. I came around and was finally able to see that my adventures with Stuart were unlikely to improve as he seemed hellbent for leather on having me continue to ride him.

Upon emerging from the trailer, I’m pretty sure I saw Stuart bolt for the back of the corral and do his best to pretend like I wasn’t there. Stuart tried to keep up this charade until I came over with a bag of alfalfa cubes to feed the mules their morning meal. Ben and Annie are entirely too happy to take the cubes right out of my hand. Stuart on the other hand clearly senses some kind of conspiracy and keeps trying to bury his face in Ben’s side. Ben seems disinterested in Stuarts ploys and continues happily taking the alfalfa cubes from my hand. I tell Stuart that he should be more like Ben. Stuart continues to ignore me.

I decide that I should try to “talk” to Stuart in an effort to get him to see me as a friend and not a foe. Ok, look, before you get all wound up please realize I was raised by a therapist so “talking” is how we solved our issues (at least that was “The Mother’s” claim). About the time I caught myself trying to ask Stuart if he was proud of his behavior, I realized the futility of trying to “therapize” Stuart into compliance. However, being raised in a family that always talked to its animals, I end with “well fine, if that’s the way you want to behave” before throwing a cube onto the ground in front of Stuart. This really should have been the end of this issue because Stuart should have happily picked up his alfalfa cube from the ground having won the battle of wills. Instead, Stuart commences to rolling the cube on the ground like he’s trying to wipe my stank of his breakfast. In the process, Stuart manages to coat his cube in mud and now refuses to eat it. You’d think that this might make Stuart realize that I was trying to do him a favor, but no. Stuart now looks at me with an “it’s all your fault” look. Or course I response by raising my arms out from my sides before proclaiming in an indignant tone, “REALY!” Stuart doesn’t seem to be phased by my protest and after looking me in the eyes, looks down at the bag of alfalfa cubes as if to say, “I need another one, mine got dirty.” By this time I start to think that Bill has been letting Stuart watch the Shrek movies because now Stuart is doing his best impression of Puss’n Boots. Yep, big sad eyes, quivering lip, and he even mustered a little shake of his skin that left me feeling like the bad guy in this exchange.

Once again, I hold out a hand full of alfalfa cubes and after much coaxing, Stuart relents and takes one. Finally a break through. Stuart and I are bonding and we will surely go on to conquer the west together as cowboy and his steed, The Lone Ranger and Silver, or one of the Earp Brothers. NOPE! Stuart refuses to take anymore from my hand and starts clanking his hoof on the ground as if to say, “put it right here dummy.” I give up and throw several handfuls of cubs on the ground and leave the mules to fend for themselves. I rationalize this maneuver and decide that they will probably get vital nutrients from the mud or at the very least, think twice before refusing my offer of food in the future.

After an afternoon of shooting our guns in camp (remember we didn’t actually get to shoot anything in the actual wild) Bill returned from wherever he had been, promptly proclaiming there weren’t any animals here and we all needed Draw Tags next time. We pack up our camp, load the mules (they are far more behaved when Bill is around and this goes literally without a hitch), and head Back to Utah. You don’t think this is the end of the story do you? No, no. It’s a long way back to Utah.

We stop at what Bill declares to be the best seafood place he’s ever eaten at in the bustling metropolis of...wait for it...Afton, Wyoming. Seafood? In Afton, Wyoming? I’m a little concerned but receive a welcome surprise when the seafood restaurant in Afton is closed for "opening day of elk season." Actual sign on the door that said closed for opening day of elk season. Got to love small town America. We settle on the diner next door and take turns staggering into the bathroom to make some effort to wash up and look presentable. I can only imagine how bad we smelled at this point, but either we fit in with the rest of the folks passing through town or these were some of the politest servers I’ve ever encountered.

After lunch, we venture to the nearest truck wash to start hosing off the mud accumulated from our drive into and out of camp. I’m pretty sure we spent about $700 in quarters just to hose off the grime and dirt accumulated from the 9 billion miles we drove in and out of the backcountry. An errant potty stop caused us to become separated from Bill and Jay who were driving the other truck. A short time later we came upon them stopped at the side of the road with their hazard lights flashing.

Jay is standing outside the truck and upon seeing us, begins waving his arms like he’s signaling a Vietnam era military helicopter to land. Not being able to pass up an opportunity to be a smart ass, I turn to Dad and ask, “you, think he wants us to stop?” We pull to the side of the road but Jay’s arm waiving continues. At this point I am truly starting to become concerned and start to wonder if Jay had some kind of delayed injury from falling off the mule and now may have lost his eyesight. I’m relieved when Jay’s arm movements change from “please land the rescue helicopter here” to the universally recognized “come here, we’ve got a great idea.” Dad exclaims, “oh, great. This can’t be good.”

As Jay ushers us to the cab of the other truck, he commences what I now refer to as “The Setup.” I’ve learned by now that many of Jay’s plans involve some kind of back story or preparations in order to pave the way for acceptance. I have deemed this activity "The Setup." Jay is very good at “The Setup.” I have several pieces of hunting gear that I am pretty sure are the direct result of “The Setup.” Again, I digress. We are told that “Bill” (always make “The Setup” seem like someone else's idea) thinks we should ask a nearby farmer if we can hunt on his land. Jay thinks this is a great idea, but needs our approval to put the plan into motion. Bill relays that he thinks it would be a good idea for “us” (pretty sure this means Dad and I) to drive down to the nearby farm house and ask the farmer if we can hunt on his land. Bill lays out, in great detail, how the sun will set soon and the deer will come down onto this farm from the nearby mountain looking for an easy meal. I am of course all in upon hearing this plan because it gives me one last chance to redeem my man card and potentially bag me a buck. Dad is less enthusiastic and upon hearing the “no way on earth” chuckle that I recognize from many a denied childhood attempts to get some desperately wanted widget that this last chance at redemption may go up in smoke. I am shocked when I hear Dad tell Bill, “sure, you can go ask.” After some debate over whether or not it would be best for an “old guy” to approach the farmer, it is decided that Bill and Jay will take Dad’s truck and go ask the farmer for permission. A couple of notes are important here. First, I’m really not clear on who they were debating was the “old guy,” but was just relieved that the discussion didn’t center around “let’s make Scott do it, he’s new.” Secondly, I become concerned that Dad has lost the will to live as not only has he now allowed me to drive his brand new, less than 5,000 mile, Ford F-150 King Ranch Edition pickup, but he is letting Bill tear off in it on this half-baked scheme. Great, I will surely not survive "The Mother's" wrath if I return Dad in a mentally challenged state or if there is any damage to the new truck because I'm sure she's thinks I'm somehow supposed to prevent those kind of things from happening.

Bill and Jay are off in the truck and Dad and I are left standing on the side of the road wondering if they will be killed by some crazed farmer. Bill and Jay return a short time later muttering something about hunting there not being a good idea before we all get back in our respective vehicles and flee the area. I can only imagine the sight of some blue haired old lady with her double barreled shotgun yelling “Get off my property” at Bill and Jay before cranking off a round into the air like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies.

Upon arriving safely back in Utah, we receive a telephone call from Jay announcing that we have to go by the gun store again. Being that the hunt is concluded, I am only slightly confused by this announcement but happily go along because, duh, gun store. Come to find out, the owner of the gun store is waiting at his long since closed shop for Bill to come pickup his new rifle. I’m pretty sure we were there for at least an hour and I left in awe that anyone could manage that kind of service, much less after hours, before being quickly reminded that we are in Utah. While at the gun store, I am informed that we will be going to Chuck-A-Rama for dinner again tonight. Oh darn! All you can eat buffet after the wilderness experience I’ve just finished? Yup, I’m all good with that plan as I can imagine plate after plate heaped high with mashed potatoes, hand carved meats, and all the fixings.

It’s getting a little late by the time we arrive at the Chuck-A-Rama and I am starting to feel the aches and pains of our adventure setting in. I drag myself into this fine dining mecca like a pirate with a wooden leg and collapse into my chair. I start wondering if I can hire one of the zillion little kids running around to just bring me food so I don’t have to move again. Upon seeing my trail busting companions heave themselves from their chairs, I decide the better part of valor is to get my own food. I return with a plate that is 3/4 mash potatoes and gravy and a couple fried chicken legs (some of the very best fried chicken I have ever had, I kid you not). You see I have deduced that mashed potatoes and fried chicken will take the least amount of effort to eat while offering the maximum return on my energy expenditure. I also happen to just really like mashed potatoes and gravy and, duh, best fried chicken ever. Upon shoveling this load away, I return for another load but add green jello because, A - I need to eat more fruit (lime jello is close to fruit) and B - you always have to try the jello at any buffet, it’s a rule. No seriously, it's a rule. Google it. 

 We return to Bill’s house and I immediately realize my endeavors with Stuart are not complete. We still have to unload before we can head for the much anticipated shower and bed. I stand anxiously at the rear of the trailer and watch as Jay effortlessly leads Ben to his paddock. Stuart is next and he exits the trailer with more energy than I have seen from him the entire trip. I grab Stuart’s lead rope pretty much right at the snout and give it a good tug to show him who’s boss. I level a steely glare at Stuart and announce that I’m not up for any of his crap. Stuart then proceeds to practically drag me to the hay pile near his stall. After a not insignificant fight, I am able to coerce Stuart into his stall and walk away nursing my wounds and accepting that Stuart has won yet again. Showers all around, a dip in the spa, and sleeping in a bed that made me feel like I was dead pretty much rounds out this Episode.

I know you are deeply concerned about these adventures coming to an end. We have one more episode in the 2016 Mule Chronicles left and then you’ll be left hoping we are renewed for another season. How can I help, you ask? Watch for the Mule Chronicles soon to be created Go-Fund-Me page and pledge your donation to keep the adventure going. We are intent on adding multi-angle mule cams and wide angle flyover shots via drone but we can’t do it without your help. Don’t make me bust out the disadvantaged mule footage like a late night TV add begging you to feed a starving child or rescue an abused animal.