{"id":20596,"date":"2024-03-06T00:51:23","date_gmt":"2024-03-06T07:51:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=20596"},"modified":"2024-03-04T14:52:09","modified_gmt":"2024-03-04T21:52:09","slug":"stolen-solitude","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2024\/03\/06\/stolen-solitude\/","title":{"rendered":"Stolen Solitude"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Bryce Angell – The outdoors has always been a large part of my life. My father was an outfitter and guide for 35 years and I was there to shoe and care for the horses and help him do the cooking. We took many great trips into the Yellowstone area. Even now that I\u2019m older, we still ride into the Tetons, Yellowstone and surrounding areas. My poems are mostly of personal experience. I am now retired and enjoying life to the fullest. I plan to do more riding and writing.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I rolled out of my sleeping bag, still fighting sleepy haze. Then turned ten hungry horses out. I watched them as they grazed.
\nIn my sixteenth year I guided at our Bechler Meadows Camp. The nights were cold. October frost turned dry grass into damp.
\nSo, I hopped up on ole Stretch\u2019s back to keep my cold feet dry. I could hear the cook a cussin\u2019 \u2018bout the fish he had to fry.
\nI pulled my Stetson past my ears. The fall air nipped a bite. Then I looked out on the river, not a fisherman in sight.
\nThe Bechler flowed so quietly with sounds all to her own. And one thing was for certain. We were out there all alone.
\nMy father\u2019s rule of hard and fast was, first the horses eat. And when they ate a belly full, you\u2019ve earned a cook tent seat.
\nWith the horses fed and watered, it meant breakfast time for me. The mountain air with eggs and bacon smelled so heavenly.
\nThe hotcakes made of sourdough with butter gobbed on top, were drowned with maple syrup till the cook told me to stop.
\nI shoveled in my breakfast, fast enough to barely taste. Then picked out five sound horses and I saddled them in haste.
\nOur fishermen were ready. They all wore their waders well. But to climb up in the saddle was another story to tell.
\nWe rode next to the Bechler with its color clearest blue. Then they\u2019d fish their way back to our camp in time for dinner stew.
\nI made a point of telling them, \u201cThe Bechler\u2019s still unknown. I hope you don\u2019t get lonely \u2018cuz the river\u2019s all your own.\u201d
\nThe memory of that day was 55 short years ago. The Bechler\u2019s been discovered. It\u2019s the place for all to go.
\nLast fall we saddled up and rode the meadow for a day. We witnessed scores of hikers. They were hellbent on their way.
\nMy face showed disappointment from the masses, I was told. What brought the hordes, the multitudes? Did someone holler, \u201cGold!\u201d
\nAs Edens are discovered we are going to feel the hurt. The droves will keep consuming. God ain\u2019t makin\u2019 no more dirt.
\nThe world will deem it progress of the wonders up for bid. I call her Bechler Meadows and I wish she could have hid.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I rolled out of my sleeping bag, still fighting sleepy haze. Then turned ten hungry horses out. I watched them as they grazed. In my sixteenth year I guided at our Bechler Meadows Camp. The nights were cold. October frost turned dry grass into damp. So, I hopped up on ole Stretch\u2019s back to keep […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[160,2],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-20596","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-cowboy-poetry","7":"category-commentary"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20596","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20596"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20596\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20597,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20596\/revisions\/20597"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20596"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20596"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20596"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}