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Dean Spiegelberg, now living between Bozeman , Montana , and Scottsdale , Arizona , spent the summer of 1955 working for his dad, Sterling “Speed” Spiegelberg. Speed had contracted with Ron Bell and the Wyoming Game and Fish Department to provide the pack horses and to transport supplies between Trail Creek on the south arm of Yellowstone Lake to the Thorofare cabin site. Dean, along with Jerry Lanchbury, were the wranglers and packers that summer. Dean was a teenager between his junior and senior years in high school and was very excited about spending the summer in the mountains.

My dad made a deal with the Wyoming Game & Fish to lease a pack string and two packers for a couple of months in the summer between my junior and senior year of high school. Jerry Lanchbury was one of the packers, and I was the other one.

The first night was spent under a tree and Dad and Jerry came up the next morning with all the tack. We packed into the Thorofare over Deer Creek Pass...

We pastured the horses in Diamond Basin which is located southwest of Cody. I trailed the horses to the South Fork Ranger Station some 24 miles up the South Fork. The first night was spent under a tree, and Dad and Jerry came up the next morning with all the tack. We packed into the Thorofare over Deer Creek Pass the next couple of days eventually picking up up Ron and Evelyn Bell, George and Alta Reesy, and the two log men.

A lot of my dad's horses were ex-rough stock from the night rodeo. I remember that we packed Ron's bed on a gray mare named Whichway. As we were headed back to the cabin site,we had a wreck right after crossing the Yellowstone River . Whichway took off with Ron's bed. Needless to say, Ron was less than positive about the whole

experience. I took off in pursuit of the mare and the bed and found her about two miles up the trail, eating grass with the bed and the pack saddle turned under her belly. I re-packed her and waited for the rest of the party. I went from being on Ron's all time bad guy list to being a fair-haired boy. That changed off and on during the next two months.

My first assignment was to dig the hole for the outdoor john. The next day we went back to Yellowstone Lake . We would go to the lake one day and load up with supplies and come back the next. The first trips were hauling groceries, salt blocks, cement, boards, and nails.Jerry and I then took a couple of packhorses over to the Thorofare River . We shoveled sand and gravel into the panniers, which we later mixed into concrete for the cabin foundation. When we had enough materials and did not need to go to the lake to meet the boat, we would skid logs that had been cut for the cabin.

Jerry and I had to wrangle the horses every morning while at the cabin site. The horses were used to grazing at my dad's hunting camp site which was located just below the mouth of Open Creek, about five miles up the Thorofare River from the cabin site. It was always cold and damp on those mornings. Jerry and I somehow ended up with one pair of gloves between the two of us so we took turns wearing them. He would wear them one day and I the next. The soles of our boots began to come off, so we taped them with adhesive tape.

Jerry and I somehow ended up with one pair of gloves between the two of us so we took turns wearing them.

Almost every afternoon a thunderstorm with lots of lightning came down the Yellowstone Valley as we rode to Trail Creek. Jerry usually was in the lead, and I brought up the rear of the pack string. He never showed any fear of the lightning, so I didn't either. About five years ago I asked Jerry if he remembered the lightning. He said, “hell yes.” I asked him if he was ever scared? He said, “every day.” I said, “me too.”

I remember that Pete Muchmore, the game warden from Powell, used to drive the boat over with the supplies. He would put the groceries in a big metal tool box. When Jerry and I went to the lake to get the next load that was brought over by the boat, we would spend the night and return the next morning. We listened to a bear trying to break into the metal tool box all night long. Jerry and I always took a bath when we were staying in the cabin at Yellowstone Lake . We would soap up on shore and walk out into the lake to scrub off. It was really cold. I would have run but the bottom was full of sharp stones and that caused more discomfort than the cold water.

The two rankest horses that we had were Comanche and Apache. We would pack two sacks of cement and a salt block on Comanche to try to hold him down. It didn't do much good. We had a trail of cement from the Trail Lake dock to the crossing on the Yellowstone River . He had enough wrecks that he soon became one of the best packhorses in the string. By the time we were packing the boards for the roof of the cabin, some of the ropes we were using were getting a little frayed. The boards were all cut in six-foot lengths, and we slung them on each side of the horse the long way —head to tail. The rope finally broke and the boards came crashing down. Comanche stopped and waited for me to come and pick them up and re-pack him. I guess he had enough wrecks that he just gave up.

Apache was a different story. He went wild when he thought something might happen. He broke so much stuff that Ron finally told us not to use him. One day, though, we were a little short of horses, and Ron wasn't around, so Jerry and I decided we needed him. He was tied to the hitch rail with three other horses. I got the pack saddle on with no problem, which was not always the case. I had just slipped a canvas pannier on one side and was putting one on the other side when Apache decided it was time to throw a fit. He broke loose and took off running around the meadow bucking and kicking with that one pannier flapping. When he threw his fit, he tore the hitch rail off which had three other horses tied to it. They ended up standing out in the meadow with the rail on the ground between them still tied to it. Apache decided to head right for them, and when he did they all backed up raising the rail up in the air. Apache must have had his eyes closed because he hit the rail with his head, and it broke into three pieces with a horse tied to each piece. From there he ran headlong into a tree. That dropped him to his knees. I think he was out cold because Jerry and I went over to him, took the pack saddle off, and let him sit, just like Ron had told us to do in the first place.

Apache must have had his eyes closed because he hit the rail with his head and it broke into three pieces with a horse tied to each piece.

Probably the hardest thing we packed was the doors for the cabin. We had to stand the doors up to lash them on each side of the horse. When we got to the Yellowstone River I tied my lariat onto the halter rope of the packhorse and crossed the river. Jerry held the packhorse until I got on the other side. While the horse was in the river, he could not keep his footing because the water was pushing the bottom of the doors. It swept him off his feet. I pulled him to the other side where it was shallow enough for him to regain his footing. I thought we were home free after that. However, about a mile from the cabin, one of those frayed ropes gave way. The door on the right hand side hit the ground, and we had another little rodeo. The wreck put a crack in the bottom of the door that fell. It took Ron a couple of days before he would talk to me again.

I remember that Evelyn Bell was a very good cook. I liked being at the cabin site rather than at the lake because Evelyn always cooked for the crew. At the lake we didn't have a cook so we just ate out of a can. The Park Rangers used to like to come to dinner. They would come over early in the afternoon and peel logs so that they could stay for dinner. Since none of us liked to peel logs, it was a good trade off as far as I was concerned.

About the middle of August, Jerry and I trailed the horses back out to the South Fork over Deer Creek Pass. We later helped Dad pack his hunting camps back into the Thorofare in preparation for the upcoming hunting season.

It was probably one of the better summers of my life. I would do it again in a heart beat.