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>be assistant hunting guide on a mountain goat hunt in BC
>4 days innawoods and innamountains on horseback
>head out above the tree line, leading the pack horse behind me
>afternoon, pic related has to be crossed
>horses slip on every step, but luckily they have 4 legs
>halfway in, my horse refuses to go any further
>"encourage" it to move 2 steps, but pack horse won't move
>pull like a retard on the lead line to make pack horse move 2 steps
>my horse has stopped again
>lead guide and hunter decide to continue on foot
>tell me to bring the horses to a meetup point further back
>ride back the same way, this time with 4 bitchy horses instead of 2
>arrive at meetup point, almost 80% sure I'm at the right place
>wait 1 hour
>realize the rifle that was in a sheath at the saddle is missing
>tie horses, double back, search it in the bushes around the trail
>it's getting dark
>find the rifle in the last daylight, behind a tree stump
>go back, wait another hour
>Fuck, am I in the right place?
>one hour after dark, lead guide returns
>tells me to give him 2 horses to rescue the hunter who was too exhausted to walk and bring the other 2 back to camp
>as soon as the horses realize what's up, they start fucking GALLOPING back home
>through wilderness, on a 2' wide trail
>they don't care if I will fit under a branch, only if they will
>hold on for dear life, my head on the horse's neck
>they stop right beside the tent where the oats are stored and look at me expectantly
Goddamn, I hated and loved these beasts so much.
