LLAMA-TREKKING, IN COWBOY COUNTRY

Trekking With Llamas In Wyoming

BY MARILYN PRIBUS

SPECIAL TO THE TRIBUNE

Perched on a sunny boulder at the crest of Wyoming's Wind River Mountains, we can see how far we have come. At nearly 11,000 feet, we are winded from our scramble up the last slope. Our llamas, however, casually snack on daisies, making it clear these lofty heights are just a stroll in the park for them.

The air, gently scented by bristlecone pine, is so clear that the rocky peaks are razor-edged against the brilliant sky and we are embraced by massive, pure silence -- the essence of the wilderness.

We are, in fact, in a wilderness -- one of more than 600 areas within our national borders preserved by the Wilderness Act of 1964. The surprisingly lyrical federal definition of wilderness is "an area where the earth and its community are untrammeled by man, where man is a visitor who does not remain."

Roads, buildings, mechanized or motorized equipment or vehicles are forbidden and aircraft must stay at least 2,000 feet above the land. We have always subscribed to the notion of protected wilderness areas, although we never thought we would visit one. But now we are on a five-day llama trek in Wyoming's Popo Agie Wilderness.

ON THE TRAIL WITH LLAMAS

Our trek begins at the ranch of Scott and Therese Woodruff, owners of Lander Llama Co., where we receive "stuff-sacks" for our personal gear. Scott and his assistant, Shad, load everything into a truck which tows an eight-llama trailer. Nearly an hour of rough road later we arrive at our trailhead in America's first national forest -- the Shoshone.

While we each tote a day pack for camera, bug juice and such, the llamas carry everything else: the camp kitchen, food and wine, tents, sleeping bags and pads, even folding camp chairs. Each llama carries 80-90 pounds and Scott spends considerable time with a hand-held scales to be sure each llama's load is equal on both sides.

We hit the trail at about 8,800 feet elevation. Our group of eight campers ranges from age 29 to a couple in their 60s and we hail from five different states. Some have previous outdoor experience. But the Manhattan investment banker has never even slept in a tent.

We ford the Popo Agie River, then follow the trail blazes through aisles of granite and fir until we reach a wooden gate that admits us to the Popo Agie Wilderness Area. Scott explains that the name, pronounced po-PO-zhuh, is Shoshone for "beginning of the waters."

The trail is rocky and sometimes muddy, so we must watch every step. The llamas, on the other hand, move daintily, not seeming to look at the trail at all. 

A LLAMA IS MORE THAN LONG EYELASHES

Llamas are gentle, sure-footed camelids native to the Andes. Strikingly dignified with wide, dark eyes and eloquent ears, they are increasingly popular as backcountry pack animals because of their low-impact two-toed padded feet and discreet droppings. They forage gently for food by nibbling on bushes, grass, tree bark and an occasional wildflower.

We especially admire an agreeable dark-brown llama named "Buffalo Bill." He is the one entrusted with the ice-chests of food and when the ill-named "Striker" lies down and actually goes on strike, Buffalo Bill ends up carrying most of the additional load without complaint.

"Bill's an athlete," confirms Scott. He and Therese own nearly 50 llamas and have bred many of the younger animals themselves. Other llamas have names like Laker, Journey, Dandy and Bandit.

Don't llamas spit? Only once in five days and then only at each other when two get their tethers so tangled they are nose to nose with no "space."

Don't llamas smell? Well, maybe a little. But their scent is neither strong nor unpleasant.

At night the animals are staked on long tethers -- Scott says there is no danger of predators. In the morning, their droppings are scattered with a few swipes of a boot in deference to the slogan, "Leave no trace."

EATS AND SLEEPS

Our campground the first night is at 9,100 feet and it doesn't take long to set up our tents and unroll our sleeping bags. Each tent also has a "vestibule" -- a small attached covered area for our packs – which means the two-person tents really are big enough for two. Some campers fly-fish at a nearby lake while others watch from shore.

After supper (served with a nice wine), the eight campers and two guides relax around a fire. Even the first night, it feels rather like a family reunion, with everyone friendly and comfortable. We get acquainted, and Scott talks about his experiences and the challenges facing the wilderness.

IS IT STRENUOUS?

I confess I was apprehensive. Wilderness sounds just plain daunting. I was afraid I'd have trouble keeping up. Or I'd be so tired I wouldn't have fun. Or my feet would hurt. Or, coming from Sacramento's 100-degree days, I would be cold at night.

Determined to Be Prepared, I cruised REI for some sincere hiking boots, "light trekking" socks and the obligatory sock liners reputed to eliminate blisters. Then I put 40 miles on the boots to break them in. I hit the stairmaster and that elliptical thingy-do at the gym on a regular basis.

And I keep pace just fine. The school teacher from New York lags on the hills. He explains that he prepared with a lot of walking, but not enough climbing. It's true my heart rate soars on some of the grades, but by then even a couple of the llamas are puffing.

Our days begin with Scott's "Breakfast!" call about 7:30 a.m. After eating, it takes a good hour to get the llamas loaded so by the time we head out, the sun is warm and we stow our jackets and long johns in favor of T-shirts and shorts.

Our campsites are 6-7 hours (5-6 miles) apart with frequent breathers, "photo-ops" and a lunch break. Both the lunch stops and overnights are near a stream or lake to provide drinking water which is filtered or chemically treated.

On the third day, we attain the Continental Divide and as we eat our lunch, we can see for some 50 miles to a butte close to the Oregon Trail.

ALONE WITH NATURE

On the first and last days, we encounter a couple of horse-packing groups and lead the llamas into the trees. Horses are often spooked by llamas, although the llamas are clearly unimpressed by the noisy horses.

We also meet a half-dozen other campers, but mostly we're alone in the wilderness except for an occasional moose, elk, deer, or antelope.

An unexpected joy is the astonishing array of wildflowers blanketing the grassy meadows and sprouting from the rocks themselves. At first we walk carefully, not wanting to trample such beauty. Finally, we recognize our caution is futile and simply wade through the blossoms.

Mountains create their own weather and as we're eating our lunch up on the Divide, a dark local storm burgeons over us, hastening us down the mountain and back to camp to avoid lightning, rain and hail. Snug in our rain gear we have a taste of how swiftly the weather can turn wild, but except for that brief squall, our skies are clear.

For five days we live a life of simplicity. Instead of traffic we hear the splash of a fish jumping on a lake, a bird cry, the crackle of our campfire. By unspoken agreement, the men don't shave and the women leave their lipstick alone. I feel an almost overwhelming sense of reluctance to emerge from the wilderness, cross the parking lot, and get into the truck to head for civilization.

But I know that back in my noisy life, I'll close my eyes and once again be just myself and my soul in the glorious wilderness.

FURTHER INFORMATION

Lander Llama offers several treks; some specialize in high mountain fishing. They also have llamas for hire to individuals. Contact Scott and Therese Woodruff, 2024 Mortimore Lane, Lander WY 82520. Information/fax: 307/332-5624; Reservations: 800/582-5262. Web site: www.LanderLlama.com E-mail: Info@WyomingHiking.com

GETTING THERE

Lander, Wyo., is 4-5 hours by car from Salt Lake City. Interstate construction projects slow driving near the city. We overnighted in Kemmerer to visit Fossil Butte National Monument and (a rare treat) to dig for ancient fish fossils at Ulrich's Fossil Gallery: 307/877-6466. Some campers fly to Riverton and Lander Llama will provide round trip pick-up service for a modest fee.

There's ample lodging in Lander. Even handier: Scott and Therese have transformed their former milkhouse into "The Bunkhouse," an all-season lodgepole facility ($75 per night).

--------Marilyn Pribus lives in Fair Oaks, Calif.