Hitches and Knots

The area of Montana designated as Bob Marshall Wilderness in 1964 is comprised of 1.5 million acres of wild lands. As directed by the Wilderness Act of 1964, there are no roads or permanent structures, other than some old ranger stations and horse bridges in "The Bob.” Because no vehicles are permitted, muleskinners are employed to pack into this territory with goods and materials needed for park maintenance, all strapped to a string of mules.

Chris Eyer knows each of his mules’ and horses’ unique personalities with a reverence rarely seen. When he calls, catches, or loads them into their trailer, it is with a quiet, reassuring voice and gentle rub to an ear, forehead, or rump. As he hefts a carefully packed load to their backs, his adjustments are done with quick precision and intimate knowledge of each animal’s physique and preferences. It is nothing short of an honor to be present for this tender, respectful interaction between man and animals.

In the mid-eighties, Chris was a 14-year-old kid in California, eager for adventure. He joined the Sierra Club and became the youngest graduate of their Basic Mountaineering course, toting a tattered edition of the Mountaineering: Freedom of the Hills textbook as his creed.

For Chris, Conrad Anker embodied the passion for climbing that he aspired to. As Conrad became one of the world’s best-known mountaineers and ventured into the Himalaya, made first ascents in Antarctica, and hung from the sheer granite of Yosemite or Patagonia, Chris Eyer followed with awe.

But a few years later while traipsing along a Sierra trail, young Chris Eyer passed a mule packer with a long string of mules and a primordial calling was awakened. Chris grew infatuated with those beautiful, hardworking animals and turned sites toward leading his own string of mules into the wild. Over the next decades he was drawn north by his Montana roots, to raise a family and build his herd.

Here in Montana, where my husband Conrad and I live, we have found our way to an unexpected friendship with Chris and his partner, Lianna.

Our alliance with this tender-hearted muleskinner and skilled horsewoman and artisan herself, resembles the tying together of two worn ropes from different worlds, with a half-hitch and a bowline.

Like Chris’s early adventures, the Anker origins were deeply rooted in the California Sierras where Conrad’s great, great grandfather settled the oak-strewn hill country outside of what is now Yosemite National Park. Conrad’s parents would pack his entire young family into the backcountry for wilderness camping with the help of two donkeys who carried gear and occasionally, tired children. Those family adventures in the Sierra Wilderness and Yosemite led Conrad to eventually find his own path as a climber and mountaineer.

Conrad’s father had a lifelong love of horses. When he retired to the family home in Big Oak Flat, his pride and joy was a handful of sturdy quarter horses. On my first visit there with Conrad, the two of us newly in love, we saddled up and rode together through the rocky hills of his ancestors.

In 1889, Chris’s great grandfather left Ireland and found his way to Ovando, Montana – the heart of the Rockies – where he homesteaded. His hand-hewn barn was built on the indigenous Salish Kootenai tribe’s road to the Buffalo where it still stands. Chris and Lianna are now building their own place on land that is within a dozen miles of Chris’ great grandfather’s weathered barn.

As a child, Lianna was captivated by her grandfather’s stories of mule packing in the Strawberry Mountains in Oregon. “I owe it to him for teaching me to trust, connect and love these magical beasts,” she tells me.

Chris and Lianna are now building their own place on land that is just a dozen miles from Chris’ great grandfather’s weathered barn.

As a child, Lianna was captivated by her grandfather’s stories of mule packing in the Strawberry Mountains in Oregon. She became obsessed with horses and dreamed of one day riding to wilderness camps. “I owe it to him for teaching me to trust, connect with, and love these impressive beasts,” she tells me.

How Conrad and I became connected with Chris and Lianna is another serendipitous knot in our story line.

Drawn to stunning images of his pack string on wilderness trails, I started following Chris on Instagram towards the end of 2016. One particularly beautiful photo inspired me to comment, and to my surprise, I got a reply from @muledragger – Chris himself. “Are you Jenni Lowe-Anker? Married to Conrad?” After I replied that in fact I am, he messaged me privately saying, “Wow, I’m a long-time admirer of Conrad and you… I would absolutely love to take you guys on a pack trip! 100% on me!” “We’re in!” I wasted no time in replying. Packing into the Bob had been on my bucket list for decades.

Conrad and I planned for our first trip into the Bob Marshall with Chris and Lianna in August of 2017. We traveled the rural route from our home in Bozeman to sleepy Augusta where we were told to look for a rig with a trailer full of mules. Finally spotting the unmistakable sight of Chris’ team, we park the truck and Conrad and I take in the beautiful setting. A shy couple stepped from the truck and we met Chris and Lianna for the first time, sharing handshakes, burgers, beers and a trailhead campsite. By morning, friendship was forged as horses were saddled and mules methodically packed and urged into motion.

Our string comprised a dozen animals traveling to Half Moon Park, below the Scapegoat massif. We rode on hoof-worn switchbacks, through alpine meadows with massive boulders and a palette of wildflowers to camp in a cradle of the wild where elk, wolves, mountain goats and grizzlies leave their tracks.

As I rode into the Bob, I couldn’t help but think of my late father and my own Montana roots. One of my fondest early memories is of being hoisted to the back of a gentle horse named Baldy after the mountain that overlooked my great grandparents homestead where they had ranched and kept horses since the 1870s.

My father learned that love of horses from his grandfather and passed it on to me. Although we lived in Missoula, Dad always found a place for us to keep horses and he dreamed of a ranch of his own. A gentle grey gelding named Mo became mine when I was 10 and nurtured me through adolescence, teaching me trust, devotion, freedom, and responsibility. Mo carried me bareback on hot summer days and we galloped through powder snow in winter. My dad realized his dream in 1973, he when he bought a section of The Whitetail Ranch near Ovando and settled for a while to raise cattle, horses, and hay.

Nearly forty years before my dad bought his land, the Whitetail Ranch was established by a man named Tom Edwards, who may be better known to some as “Hobnail Tom” – name he earned for climbing Wyoming’s Grand Teton in hobnail boots. Hobnail Tom built the Whitetail Ranch into a premier backcountry guiding operation, packing guests on horseback into a wild that extended from his back door in Ovando north to Glacier National Park.

The spirit and rich history of the early-day packers could be felt in the open beauty of his land. And although I rode horses on the ranch, I never did ride into the wilderness with Dad, but now I carry him in my heart as I ride with Conrad, Chris and Lianna.

Becoming connected with Chris and Lianna and spending time with them in the heart of the wilderness has tied us not only to one another but to each of our histories with this land.

This past summer, we set off from Benchmark to a camp on the south fork of the Sun River where massive herds of elk and occasional grizzlies roam. Each time we have felt the Hush of Wilderness as moons rise in dazzling starry skies and sometimes nightfall is accompanied by the howling of resident wolves.

Conrad and I drove to Ovando last fall for our fourth trip into the Bob with Chris and Lianna and their menagerie of horses, mules, and dogs.

Conrad has lured Chris back to a bit of climbing, tying in with figure eights, while Lianna and I have become fly-fishing buddies, tying our flies along pristine wilderness streams to cast for west slope cutthroats, rainbows, and browns.

The Hobnail Tom trail this autumn was especially beautiful. Huckleberry bushes blushed red and stately cottonwoods glowed yellow along the river while Aspens and Larch turned the hillsides gold. We began at Chris and Lianna’s new home, built on that same corner of windswept grassland near Ovando where the origins of mule packing and the history of Wilderness itself began. The mules graze as the sun drops low, and we’re just a stone’s throw from Hobnail Tom’s Whitetail Ranch, which means we’re not far from my dad’s old ranch. And a little farther still is Chris’s great Grandfather’s barn.

With the heart of the wilderness in his blood and with dreams realized, Chris Eyer’s brand of a W inside of a Heart on the flanks of his mules is a fitting one. It’s here that Chris and Lianna have come home. And Conrad and I are happy to join them.