Men to Match the Mountain

Hey there little ladies,

Yesterday some other rip-snortin' mountain dudes ron-day-vooed with me and we tackled that tough old bastard, 2nd Burroughs. Mountain Jim was there along with Diamond Deva and another hard case name of Dan. It was a gloomy morning at Sunrise, fewer cars in the lot than fleas on a horse after fording a glacier-melt stream. There was rain on the horizon and a stiff wind was blowin but it didn't slow us mountain men down for an Enumclaw minute. No sir. We took off at a good pace, buckskin fringe ripplin in the breeze. The trail was mostly empty, just a few tenderfoot here and there. We made it to Frozen Lake in good time and started up the slope to 1st Burroughs. That was a tough one. We came to a fork in the trail and were right mystified for a piece until my Mountain experience told me to look at the sign that said "Burroughs Trail ->". After stiff drinks all around we decided to follow the trail the arrow pointed at. Turned out that was pretty darned smart 'cause that trail led right up old 1st Burroughs. Then the rain started and boy howdy did it come down. At one point we could see actual drops of rain in the dusty trail. Then, as we persevered further up to 2nd Burroughs the wind started up hard enough to almost blow the hat off old Mountain Jim. Luckily it was tied under his grizzly old chin. When we made it to the summit we were face to face with the Mountain of Mountains just across the valley and sat down to our midday vittles garnished with some kind of varmint we found nearby. In the distance a herd of mountain goats grazed peacefully just out of range of our rifles which put us out to no end.

We headed back then and met hordes of tenderfoot comin down the trail in tennis shoes and loud Bermuda shorts, some with their little hellions in tow. Kinda took the sheen off things for a real Mountain Man. On the ride home we stopped for some tall cool ones at a local trading post. Mine was a huckleberry shake and let me tell you, that hit the spot. A man could live for days on a couple of those.

Well that's all for now, little ladies. I hope those effete eastern schools don't turn you soft. There's plenty of venison to smoke and butter to churn waiting for you when you come out west.

Love and a chuck under the chin,
Mountain Daddy

(legacy post from 8/18/2008)