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Hi. I’m Ben Benton from Flagstaff, Arizona. I believe that you will enjoy my daily journal from Yellowstone National Park during the summer of 1999. I left downtown Flagstaff with my saddle and duffel in early July and lighted in the horse corral at Mammoth Hot Springs. My journal will continue through September 20th, unless the weather shuts us down earlier. You’ll read about adventures on the back country trails, Yellowstone history, people I meet, and anything else I can think of to write about. I’m the author of “National Park Employment Data,” a guide to working in national parks, which is available for purchase on my web site at www.gorp.com/nped/. I’ve been working in national parks and ski areas off and on for over twenty years. Because I want the data in my book to always be fresh, I continually test the concepts, employers, and tips that I provide. Right now, I’m working for Amfac Parks and Resorts. They are a top notch concession company because they place employee training, morale, and amenities first. |
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Previous 7/16 |
Tuesday, 8-3-99Pinky Bonner’s Hunting CampWhen I finished my first season at Jackson Lake Lodge, I headed to Jackson to the Job Service because I didn’t have enough saved to get back to Arizona. After all, I bought leather chaps from Ol’ Vern for $50 and a new saddle for $700. I think Vern cut me a fantastic deal on those chaps. You have to see them — 20 years later — to appreciate the quality leather and workmanship. The Job Service said Pinky Bonner needed a camp cook. I said I could do it and he hired me. The extent of my experience at this point was pancakes, ham, and scrambled eggs, so I headed to the nearest bookstore and bought a copy of “Joy of Cooking.” Pinky drove me and my gear to the trailhead where he had some horses waiting. We saddled and headed up Arizona Creek. Riding down the trail was Paul, a guy I had worked with at Jackson Lake Lodge. Actually Paul was the wrangler at Jenny Lake Lodge, which is a four- or five-star/diamond quality place. I think they’ve been rated in the fours or fives in years past, but I don’t know how they’re doing now. As we proceeded, the trail was littered with Paul’s toothbrush at one point, his toothpaste at another, and so on. When Pinky and I got to his lower camp, the cook emerged from the cook tent and was surprised to see Pinky. She was even more surprised to see me. It seems that she asked Pinky for a raise and he wouldn’t give it, so she threatened to quit. Not knowing that Pinky could find a cook easily, she changed her mind when she saw me pull into camp. So I didn’t have a cooking job after all. But wait. The reason the trail was littered with Paul’s outfit was because he had just quit, the cook said. So Pinky turned to me and asked, “Have you ever packed?” “No, sir,” I responded. “Well you’re starting in the morning,” said Pinky. So Pinky assigned me to the care of fifteen mules and fifteen horses in the corral and taught me to pack hay and supplies from the trailhead, and deer, elk and moose from the back country. Pinky’s customers were wealthy Easterners who paid hundreds per day to Pinky and thousands for their out-of-state Wyoming hunting permits. One had a bighorn sheep permit and another had a moose permit, but all the others had elk and deer. They all had deer permits just in case they didn’t get their elk. Pinky personally guided the bighorn sheep customer and did the packing too. That’s a very prestigious hunt and a prized mount. Moose hunting is another story. The guide took his customer out to a moose he was aware of and they watched for a while. Moose are solitary and never move far in a day. Then they would ride over to another one and watch for a while. Then to another one. At the end of a couple days, the customer decided which one he wanted and shot it. One day I was following Pinky and a wealthy optometrist and his wife from New Jersey — four of us on horseback and mule back. Customers were offered either a horse or mule and the smart ones always took a mule because they carefully step over twigs and branches so well that you can come right up on group of elk before they hear or see you. Well, this guy from Jersey really talked the talk when he arrived at camp, and during supper. He requested mules for himself and his wife that morning. As the four of us sneaked along, we suddenly came upon a rutting bull and his harem ahead. Pinky motioned to the optometrist and got out of the way as the optometrist slipped off his mule and pulled his rifle from the scabbard. Then something strange happened. The optometrist, on one knee and aiming toward the bull, started shaking uncontrollably. Pinky later told me that this happens, not often, but it happens, to hunters as they zero in on the prized trophy. BLAM. The bull was felled by a single shot to the heart . . . by the optometrist’s wife, who was able to dismount and get her gun just in time. Back in camp, everyone rested in their tents before supper. The optometrist and his wife had concocted an amazing story for us at supper and, presumably, for friends back in Jersey about his wanting his wife to get the first shot at the prized bull. She nodded dutifully. Winter came early to Pinky’s upper camp. We closed it a few days after I started working for him. The lower camp was able to stay open several more weeks and I was able to earn enough to buy an old car to drive back to Arizona with my new saddle and new memories.  |
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