CHAPTER XI
On the Trail Again to Logan Lake

Hunkering down by a low burning squaw wood campfire, I took a slow drag of hot new-fangled freeze-dried coffee, and wondered out loud, "Well, how long is it going to take us to pack up and get moving this morning?"

No matter how loud I had screamed last year, or how fast I had moved to set the pace, we had never been able to break the pattern of an hour and a half for breakfast and breaking down tents, and another hour and a half of saddling and packing the horses. Three hours total, which cut a big chunk out of a day. Now that I had lost my off-side packer, Barry Jr. literally was going to have to learn the ropes .
"Up," I signaled, and my little son, who was only thirteen, lifted his 80 pound pannier up to the saddle forks faster than I did mine.
"Manty," and he had it in place before I could bend down to pickup the lash rope.
"Catch," and he had the loop on his side snugged by the time I had the diamond twisted, ready for the loose end again.
"Five minutes!" I exclaimed, and stepped around the horse to take another look at this little pug nose punk who had stolen my name. What I saw, standing proud 6' 2", was a man, not a boy. We were going to do just fine.

Bernadette and Colette had grown too. So much so that flexing their arms to lift a saddle into place, it was noticeable. Both admonished me for mentioning something as unladylike as muscles. On the other hand, neither appreciated any suggestion of help when it came time to climb up on their horse. This contradiction was a sure sign they were growing into womanhood.

Bernice somehow looked the same. I decided this was on account of her hat being the only one that had survived the rigors of last year. The rest of our outfit was new, or refurbished. She tightened the buckle on the strap that held a cast aluminum Dutch oven in place in a kitchen pannier fitted out in compartments so that it wasn't necessary to dig through the 'pantry' everyday just to find a pot lifter.

We had enjoyed buttermilk (dried) biscuits for breakfast. A new aluminum griddle lay protected on a form fitted shelf after doing a splendid job on scrambled eggs (powdered) and bacon (canned). After serving orange juice (crystals) and hot cocoa or coffee (boiling water from various individual sized packets intended for restaurant use) her spotless set of nestled pots and pans sparkled against the white makeshift tabletop that appeared when the pannier was opened.