Final trial run - overnight, 16 miles packed

Butch seemed to have recovered from his temporary insanity - the 20-30 lbs he lost pacing appears to have been mostly water weight (he was drenched in sweat, hardly ate or drank for a night & day). He filled out a lot after a day of hydrating. He still looks thinner to me than I'd like, but he's so raw boned and now buffed up, it's hard to tell how much is lean muscle.

Anyway, mule calm, leg fine, cut healing, so I decided to take him for one last test before deciding whether or not to continue. Lee arranged for me to camp out on the land of a friend of his, 16 miles away down mostly deserted rural roads. Lee trailered us there late yesterday afternoon. I set up camp with Lee coaching me on how best to stay organized and set up/take down efficiently (advice I promptly ignored and then ended up rooting around in my bags in the dark, of course). I slathered Butch's lead rope with nasty-tasting fly goop so he wouldn't chew it in half, tied him and hobbled him and went to bed. He did well.

This morning (after comedy of newbie camping errors we won't dignify by describing), finally camp all rolled up, time to saddle and pack my mule. My mule had other ideas. He moved. He fidgeted. When I corrected him he came up with  new tactic, backing up. He shook himself after I put on his pads, while I went to grab the saddle, shaking them out of place. I manage to get the saddle on, start cinching, and he swings his butt toward me and feigns biting at a fly, dislodging the saddle position. Pull off saddle and pads and start over...

Packing actually went a little better. By that time I'd corrected him enough, or he'd been shocked enough by the level of profanity his person gave vent to, that he stood fairly still. I discovered, however, that Butch is even taller than I imagined, or I'm shorter. I couldn't reach the top of his cantle bag to tighten the straps or attach the canteens. So I re-rigged the canteens and bucket over the horn. Feeling quite pleased with myself, I untied Butch and proceeded to mount.

Attempt to mount, that is.

Getting on tall Butch with all the packs is a complicated yoga move in the best of circumstances. Butch decided to make it even more complicated by adding the extra challenge of a moving target. He stood stock still as I put my foot in the stirrup, then every time, the instant he felt me hoist myself...

he'd start walking. Or turning. Or backing up.

More colorful vocabulary, much pulling of riens and turning of mule, round and round and round.
And, finally, we're off.

To be continued [time to go feed] ---