_RELIGIOUS BEDROLL

Steps:

• For two or three years running I was the victim of a conspiracy. No matter how carefully I scheduled things a conflict would arise which precluded my going on Middle Fork of Salmon River float trips with my pards. Instead, my house became the staging area for everyone as they gathered from the four corners of the country. These pre-launch rendezvous left me feeling deflated and left out, like the perennial bridesmaid who never becomes a bride! And much like a wedding, the festivities were great fun but the next morning after everyone departed, a feeling of being unfulfilled would descend. Actually, though, what I really suffered from the morning after might be better described as a hang over. Anyway...One such rendezvous included Greg Rost, aka Rosterman, a friend from college days at Utah State University. Greg graduated a year ahead of me in 1973 and went on to complete a MS Degree in Wildlife Management at Colorado State University. While I worked on a dude ranch, drove long-haul truck, and trapped grizzly bears prior to becoming a game warden, Greg began his career with the Division of Animal Damage Control with the US Department of the Interior. By the time of this reunion, Greg had advanced to an Area Supervisor position in Elko, Nevada. Long into the night, we regaled the group with stories from college days and beyond. Long after the liquor store closed, things started to dry up with many stories yet to tell.Greg called for an intermission, walked out to the garage, and rummaged through his river bag for his 'river jug'! In he came with a 1/2 gallon of Christian Brothers Brandy®. He was willing to sacrifice some of what he'd brought for riverside campfires for one more round with his pards! I broke the seal and commenced pouring. This particular jug came equipped with one of those new-fangled plastic pouring spouts. Since it seemed to inhibit the flow, I popped it out...the better to quickly pour a man-sized drink!The next morning while I cooked breakfast, everyone including Greg packed their river bags and got ready to go. Greg came into the kitchen, grabbed his jug and cranked the lid down tight. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure as the old saying goes, so Greg wrapped his jug in his bedroll to guard against accidental breakage.I later learned that the first evening at Trail Flat Camp, Greg learned something about the bottles that the good Brothers put their brandy in. In order to completely seal the jug, it's imperative to leave the little new-fangled pour spout in the neck of the bottle! With little daylight left to dry his sleeping bag, Greg spent the night rolling around trying to get comfortable with the Christian Brothers! Unsubstantiated reports relayed since that hot sticky night indicate Rosterman indeed prayed for the continued good health of a certain game warden until fitting revenge could be meted out!Our next rendezvous ended before it began with the crash of Greg's plane. To this day when I pass the crash site I raise my hand and pretend I'm taking a drink from his 'river jug' and say, "Here's to you pard, wherever you are!" Ten years later, I still have more than memories of Greg. Before he moved to Alaska he left a bay horse and his saddle with me for safekeeping. Greg called him Rusty but he's known as Slim in my string. On more than one occasion riding down a trail alone on Slim I've reached into saddlebags for a small flask containing a certain brand of brandy and taken a swig before thanking my old pard for his friendship and the use of his horse!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Dedications