Ranch Hands and Shortcuts

 Back in my truck driving days, I remember hauling a load of baled hay from southeast Idaho to northern Montana. Driving a then-fairly new 1983 double bunk cab-over Kenworth, and my boss, driving his truck, we took the 2 loads to a ranch just a mile or 2 south of the Canadian border, where they had been experiencing shortages of hay. We met our "guide" at the edge of a nearby town who rode with me to show the way to the ranch that had purchased the hay. I remember turning off the pavement onto a long straight gravel road. I've got printed pictures of the loads of hay and gravel road. Anyway, we drove maybe 30 - 45 minutes  before turning onto a narrow dirt drive to the ranch.

So far, the whole trip was rather uneventful. We maneuvered our trucks to the area where the hay was to be unloaded. Then 2 or 3 ranch hands climbed onto top of my load of hay and began tossing bales to the 2 or 3 guys on the ground who were stacking them. I remember most about these guys is how cliché they were for ranch hands. Trimmed hair, cowboy hats, blue jeans, cowboy boots and rolled up log-sleeved plaid shirts. Wanting to get this done and on my way, I climbed up to the top of my  trailer load of hay, planning to help throw theses bales to the others. How do I put this......? Dang. Those bales are heavy! I later learned about 160 pounds each. I struggled to heave a couple bales down to the ground making myself look embarrassingly weak as a wimp before cowering back into my cab of my truck. These guys were picking them up and tossing them around effortlessly like kid stuff.

Once finished, it was awesome that they invited me and my boss to stay for lunch. Steak, potatoes, homemade buns, and iced lemonade. I got the impression that this was sort of a common meal. Makes sense. Big cattle ranch - all the free beef they want. I remember...these guys were somewhat surreal. Tough, fit, healthy, macho, manly, picture-perfect images of what everyone thinks a ranch hand is. After lunch, I asked our "guide" if there was a short cut back to town to avoid so much gravel roads. He said they have a road that cuts through their grazing fields that is significantly shorter. Once again, he hops into my cab to show us the way back to town. Right now I don't know how to properly describe this short cut. It's not a public roadway. It's, at best, a narrow trail across the too-soft, not-meant for semi trucks and if it wasn't wet and muddy, it was soft and swallowing up our heavy trucks. I was having panic thoughts of getting stuck and the cost of a tow truck to come rescue us. I also have printed photos of that mud road.

Yes, we made it back to town. Straight to a car wash with outside bays, to wash the hundreds of pounds of mud that had collected to the underside of our trucks.