By Hal Walter
I was running third place in the last couple miles of the Buena Vista Gold Rush Pack-Burro Race and had just regained much of the ground I’d lost to the leaders. In fact, I’d just seen them turn off the Midland Railroad Grade and onto the steep and rocky trail that leads down to town and the finish.
I followed in their footsteps, anxious to catch back up to them before a final push to the finish line. I was already visualizing catching and passing them on the street.
That’s when I tripped on a rock and went careening toward a big piñon tree.
I could see the trunk approaching at high speed. Since I had a lead rope in my left hand, I instinctively raised my right arm in football stiff-arm fashion to absorb the impact. I bounced off the tree sideways, bloody from some scrapes with smaller branches, and somehow regained my balance while stumbling downhill and not losing my grip on the rope as the burro continued on with a half-ton of momentum.