COWBOY POETRY: The Selway

Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell's life. Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

I heard the hunters carry on ‘bout where to get away.  They talked of Central Idaho, back in the lone Selway.

So, we heeded their advice and then we gathered up our gear.  We loaded three fresh horses with hay pellets to the rear.

The first 240 miles were such a pleasant drive.  But, the 60 miles of forest road, how did we both survive?

And did I mention that the road was closed down for the year?  Right then the word, cannibal, was ringing in my ear.

The Pass weren’t for the faint of heart, but we had brand new chains.  What brought us to this mountain top? Surely clabber for our brains.

Thank heaven I rode shotgun.  I was still a bit in shock. Then I heard the driver say, “We’ve got to beat the clock.

“We need to get to camp ‘fore dark; no time to fool around.  Mother Nature has no mercy.” And he said it quite profound.

So, we drove down to the trailhead where the sign read, Paradise.  No need to even wonder cuz its name was so precise.

Our guide was packed and ready.  He was itching for the trail. He said, “We’ll go ‘bout 15 miles.  This ride ain’t for the frail!”

The ride was most spectacular.  The river at our side. I wondered what our guide implied.  So far, a perfect ride.

But it seemed the guide was right about the long and crooked course.  One slip and you’d be dead or maybe swimming with your horse.

Our day was coming to an end.  We rode into the camp. I smelled beef stew and biscuits; saw the cook tent’s glowing lamp.

That night while in my sleeping bag, I slept next to the heat.  My first night in the Selway. Would tomorrow be so sweet?

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