Almost a wreck

Many moons ago, when I lived on the Summit, Beaver Creek drainage was my main haunt. Got to know it, like they say, like the back of my hand.

So one fine September day, MC and me, you remember M.C. whose castle was a Eucalyptus tree, decided to bow hunt up near Gray Wolf Lake.

Anyway, early in the morning we packed up at the trailhead. I was pack'n Ol' Buck mule and rid'n Honest Abe mule.

As we were leaving MC sez "my fish pole." Now against my better judgment I let him shove it into the top of the pack. Word to the wise, don't be in a hurry pack'n up. Buck was a big mule and no brush that hig...