Cowtown Bound

Cowtown Bound


He’s off to tear up the town. Most likely he’ll blow his three months wages in one night on booze, women and cards. Three months of playing babysitter to several thousand head of cattle can do strange things to a man. In a way, I’ve been there.

The summer of ’89 found my hide up in the Chugatch Mountains of Alaska working a hard rock gold mine. The crew of eight we brought up from Texas started out docile. By the end of the third month (and with a cook that quit) it was tempers on edge, cabin fever, everyone was looking for a little relief. Some chased the girls, others drank, some got in fights. I’ve seen the raw edge of life that comes out of men when left to their own unchecked desires.

Ever spent any length of time away from so called ‘civilization? I’ve been a week running the Middle fork of the Salmon in Idaho. Five times I’ve run the Buffalo River in Arkansas – numerous campouts lasting days on end. Bar none, every time I’ve been away from the city, for whatever reason, I hanker to get back. Why, is beyond me. Maybe it’s what I am used to – the familiar noises of the city, of voices other than my own.


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