(...)

Finally by 9 a.m. we are ready to go. A textbook camp-break right on time.
For the first hour, Bedavi is lame, but Mike assures me it's just from being hobble-sore. The ride to our campsite follows our old trail for some miles, but no problems occur. For some reason the steep drop doesn't bother us much coming back, probably because I learned a new approach. A common mistake when riding on such steep slopes is to subconsciously lean away from the drop and into the mountain. On horseback, leaning towards one side will move the horse into the opposing direction, meaning away from the mountain and closer to the drop. It takes some getting used to correct this habit. Applying weight into the stirrup and seat on the downhill side feels like stepping into the drop. The results are worth the effort though.

After lunch, we have to cross another steep and deep slope and my ride turns into a new disaster. I accidentally drop my right rein, and Bedavi steps on it with his very next step. The reign breaks off and I stop Bedavi to reattach. With the rest of the line moving away, my boy acts like a complete idiot, almost running me over. I discipline his behavior at once and he quits moving forward. Reestablishing my dominance on such a steep and dangerous slope is not my idea of fun. Regardless, Bedavi is not standing still. He is not moving forwards into me, but he does rear his head up and stomp all four feet. Not an easy situation, considering I am standing next to him on his right, off the trail in this hazardous slope. If he is testing me, he does a thorough job. Unexpectedly, he turns around uphill on the narrow trail and faces the surprised pack-string now. I can't believe this and my heart nearly misses a beat. What do I do now? If the pack-string turns around, I am doomed.

Like a whirlwind, I climb the steep incline behind Bedavi, grab his one reign, and spin him back the same way he just came. If anything goes wrong, he will now take a step back and tumble at least 200 feet into the river. The choice and problem is his. He has done it once to get himself into trouble, he better do it now to get out of trouble too. He takes aim, pushes up his forefeet, and lands uphill without ever stepping an inch back. I pull him around and we soon stand back on our trail. I take a deep breath and lead him out of here by one reign. We have both won, and I can't shake off that feeling that Bedavi is testing me. After making it through this ordeal, a new theory takes shape. He is a very intelligent and spirited horse, and while he might act like an idiot right now, he would never do anything to actually endanger himself. It would be completely counter-instinctive. I know we will come back this way, so I will have a chance test my new theory soon. Close to our campsite 3U4, Bedavi starts prancing, and trotting oh so slowly again and won't stop. I look back and around us, but everything is fine. Oh well.

After nine adventurous miles, we arrive at the campsite, unsaddle, unpack, and set-up. When feeding the horses, I check Bedavi again and notice the reason for his prancing. The poor boy must have caught the lead rope under his tail, because he is pretty rope-burned. I treat it with Furazine and let him enjoy his sparkling mountain meadows again.