Cabin In The Sky

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A couple dares to start a new life in the Rocky Mountains
Story and photographs

HAVE YOU EVER thought of livingin some remote place, far beyond the end of tire tracks? Maybe you've thoughtof a country where you could make your way to some high, rockbound rim and look over avast sweep of mountain ranges where tall, snow-capped peaks reach for blue sky. In yourmind's eye, perhaps you saw long, grassy expanses appear ing as emerald islands in adarker green sea of pine and spruce. And have you ever dreamed of peering into somedark, forbidding canyon, where a white-water stream plunges and splashes over granite boulders in a violent rush toward lower country?

Mary and I thought about a country like that for over 30 years. Finally, there came a day when we pulled stakes, loaded our outfit on a string of pack horses, and headed up the mountain. At 8,000 feet, we pitched our tent. Working all through the winter, we built a cabin. It became our home, summer and winter.

If you've got the time to listen for a spell, then pull up a chair, and we'll share our adventure with you...

Some years back on a bright day in early June, Mary and I rode our horses up a mountain to start a high-country venture that changed our lives forever. I recall the day in detail. The sun, bearing down between scattered clouds, promised grassgrowing heat well before noon. Buttercups and lupine splashed the open slopes with yellow and blue. I remember those details, because they came at a time when we were phasing out an important era in our lives, and commencing another one. That day will stay with me forever...

Mary and I reined in our horses at a viewpoint along the rough mountain trail. The climb along the side of Gunshot Canyon was steep, and experience told us to go slow and rest often. When we turned in our saddles, we allowed our eyes to sweep over a good chunk of cow country, where foothills and meadows stretched out as a rolling carpet of lush, green grass. Far below us, we could make out a red and white cluster of buildings, the headquarters of the familyowned cattle ranch where we had worked for many years. We saw the pastures we had come to know by name, and the rooftops of the homes and barns which made up Deer Creek Place.

We reined our horses around and continued up the trail. I was reminded that the new life we were heading into would cause us to face a completely new set of chal lenges. Before the sun set that night, we would be camped on the privately owned, summer range of the ranch. In that primitive setting, we would live and work.

First, we need ed to build a house of logs. That done, I would take on the job of caring for whatever cattle the ranch pastured up there on our end of the mountain. I also planned to ride for a cattle association which ran stock on a fee basis.

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