“Struck me it could be useful. Too many folks think they know what they’re doing. Figure they’ve got a backpack, a compass, a cell phone, and they’re good to go.”
“They’re the ones who get into trouble.” Jake nodded. “There was a lone hiker up on Storm Mountain a few weeks ago, headed to Coyote Pass. You hear about that? A young guy from back East—he told Lem over at Benson’s Drugstore he was a student, doing research on the Old West. He was planning to follow the old Beacon Trail to Coyote Pass, all alone. Next night, a storm blew up, a bad one—and he never made it back. Sheriff Hodge sent out search parties, the whole town organized volunteers—and no one’s found a trace of him, or any of his stuff. Didn’t see any traces ofblood or clothing, either—the rain must have washed it all away. His sister from back East came out, offered a reward. More people searched.”
Jake sighed. “People think they’re smart and prepared, and that they know what they’re doing, but stuff happens out in the wilderness, stuff no one expects.”
Wes leaned forward. “That’s why I’m thinking a course that prepares them for every contingency might be valuable. It could save lives. I figure all the daredevils and adventurers out there might like it, too—a way to challenge themselves on a whole other level. I’ve got a buddy in Wyoming—former FBI guy, Scott Murray. He’s married now, got his family there—mentioned he might want to go in on it with me.”
“Wes, once this thing gets started, I bet you could even franchise it out. Could be a big market for this across the entire western United States—and in some places back East, too.”
“I’m not planning that big—or that far ahead, Jake. Not yet. Just thinking I’ll make a start somewhere—maybe Wyoming with my buddy, or if we decide to open two at once, I’d start mine at the same time in Colorado. I’ve read about a whole lot of people who’re used to camping someplace flatter, tamer—country not so far from civilization. And then they think the mountainous regions in the West are a challenge, but maybe not so different from what they’re used to. Some of ’em get hurt when they try it, and some—like your hiker—don’t make it back.”
“Why not start right here? Livingston and Big Timber are only a stone’s throw away. They attract thousands of campers and hikers each year. More and more have been passing through Lonesome Way, too, these past few years. We’ve got a bunch of great trails practically right in our own backyard, and some of them are pretty damned tough. The Cottonwood Lake Trail in the Crazies, the Trespass Trail. A lot of folks come for the views of the Absarokas and the Bridger Mountains. Pretty steep hiking up that way. Folksdon’t realize how quick bad weather can blow up. Then they get stranded, can’t get back down to the campgrounds.”
Wes drained his beer. “Yeah. The idea really came into focus while I was driving here from Denver. Heard about a family that got stranded in the Rockies. They were rescued after three days, just when their rations were running out. The father had a broken leg—no one in the family knew how to set it. They had no meds, no cell phone service, and their shelter blew the hell away in the storm. Seems like there’s a need for some training, considering all the people into hiking, fishing, and just plain exploring. Too many don’t have a clue how to survive out there if the weather turns nasty on a dime, or if something else goes wrong.”
“You know,” Jake said thoughtfully, signaling to the waitress for another round, “if you want to kick things off here, I’d love to incorporate a class or two into my program for the kids. Nothing too complicated, just basic survival stuff. I bet they’d enjoy it, and it could come in handy some day. I realize this is small stuff compared to the course you have in mind, but—”
“Let’s do it.” Wes looked him
“They’re the ones who get into trouble.” Jake nodded. “There was a lone hiker up on Storm Mountain a few weeks ago, headed to Coyote Pass. You hear about that? A young guy from back East—he told Lem over at Benson’s Drugstore he was a student, doing research on the Old West. He was planning to follow the old Beacon Trail to Coyote Pass, all alone. Next night, a storm blew up, a bad one—and he never made it back. Sheriff Hodge sent out search parties, the whole town organized volunteers—and no one’s found a trace of him, or any of his stuff. Didn’t see any traces ofblood or clothing, either—the rain must have washed it all away. His sister from back East came out, offered a reward. More people searched.”
Jake sighed. “People think they’re smart and prepared, and that they know what they’re doing, but stuff happens out in the wilderness, stuff no one expects.”
Wes leaned forward. “That’s why I’m thinking a course that prepares them for every contingency might be valuable. It could save lives. I figure all the daredevils and adventurers out there might like it, too—a way to challenge themselves on a whole other level. I’ve got a buddy in Wyoming—former FBI guy, Scott Murray. He’s married now, got his family there—mentioned he might want to go in on it with me.”
“Wes, once this thing gets started, I bet you could even franchise it out. Could be a big market for this across the entire western United States—and in some places back East, too.”
“I’m not planning that big—or that far ahead, Jake. Not yet. Just thinking I’ll make a start somewhere—maybe Wyoming with my buddy, or if we decide to open two at once, I’d start mine at the same time in Colorado. I’ve read about a whole lot of people who’re used to camping someplace flatter, tamer—country not so far from civilization. And then they think the mountainous regions in the West are a challenge, but maybe not so different from what they’re used to. Some of ’em get hurt when they try it, and some—like your hiker—don’t make it back.”
“Why not start right here? Livingston and Big Timber are only a stone’s throw away. They attract thousands of campers and hikers each year. More and more have been passing through Lonesome Way, too, these past few years. We’ve got a bunch of great trails practically right in our own backyard, and some of them are pretty damned tough. The Cottonwood Lake Trail in the Crazies, the Trespass Trail. A lot of folks come for the views of the Absarokas and the Bridger Mountains. Pretty steep hiking up that way. Folksdon’t realize how quick bad weather can blow up. Then they get stranded, can’t get back down to the campgrounds.”
Wes drained his beer. “Yeah. The idea really came into focus while I was driving here from Denver. Heard about a family that got stranded in the Rockies. They were rescued after three days, just when their rations were running out. The father had a broken leg—no one in the family knew how to set it. They had no meds, no cell phone service, and their shelter blew the hell away in the storm. Seems like there’s a need for some training, considering all the people into hiking, fishing, and just plain exploring. Too many don’t have a clue how to survive out there if the weather turns nasty on a dime, or if something else goes wrong.”
“You know,” Jake said thoughtfully, signaling to the waitress for another round, “if you want to kick things off here, I’d love to incorporate a class or two into my program for the kids. Nothing too complicated, just basic survival stuff. I bet they’d enjoy it, and it could come in handy some day. I realize this is small stuff compared to the course you have in mind, but—”
“Let’s do it.” Wes looked him
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