Now we knew why Kennis had been shaking his head when the packs were getting over-stuffed back at the trailhead.
In my last page I started telling you about some of my bunch riding horseback into the roadless Book Cliffs without knowing all we knew about what we were doing and that we were lucky to have ended up mostly unscathed.
My family had all ridden horses quite a bit, but we were real greenhorns when it came to weeks-long pack trips into the wilderness. Thank goodness for Old Uncle Kennis. Kenny Davis to be more precise. You have read his name several times if you’ve been keeping up with these pages, and I will do a full story on him in the next few months.
If you have a good memory and have been keeping up with this series...
First, let me apologize about the fact my column has only appeared infrequently the past few weeks. Sometimes it...