Oral Histories

Jim & Nellie McPherson

From Moab, I went to Fruita and stayed a couple of weeks. When we would go back to Fisher Valley from the winter range, the trail made a crooked crossing down into the wash, a very sharp right, and out the other side. If we had either horses and a pack mule, they would hit it on a high lope. The horse I rode, Cactus, really liked to do that, and before I thought much about it, Jim said, “Lets race.” The first time I lost my hat and he had to go back and get it. It did take some holding back to keep Cactus reined in. They just felt good. We never raced there again.

One time in our early years of going between the places, I had a small black cardboard suitcase. It was a little bigger than a briefcase. I carried underwear, PJs, writing paper, pen, comb, brush, etc. Jim always tied it on top of the pack. This time he turned the mule loose. He and the extra horses played along. The mule ran under a tree and the suitcase flew open. Here was a bra, pants, etc., hanging on a limb. Never found the fountain pen. So, I packed in a flour sack and Jim put it down in the pack pannier.

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