On the Outlaw Trail

On a trip to southern Utah last week, we had some great riding in the San Rafael desert west of Canyonlands National Park. 
We parked off the Hans Flat Road and went north, dropping down into Trail Spring Canyon and eventually into the main part of Horseshoe Canyon. 

We followed one of the many "outlaw trails" used by rustlers and robbers in the late 1800's and early 1900's.  The remote, rugged terrain tended to discourage lawmen.

Some of the trail is hard to follow and/or downright gnarly. 

We found a couple of small springs, lifeblood to the dry canyons.

Daisy thought the water was fine for a dip. 

But any stagnant pool was equally fine.

Steve saw a giant sand dune and imagined himself as Lawrence "Stevie" of Arabia. 

Above shows the location of the outlaw Matt Warner's camp.  Matt did some cattle rustling in Utah in the late 1800's, and hung out with Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch for awhile, participating in various robberies. All that remains of the camp are a pile of rusted tin cans on a sandstone shelf. The sight was well chosen with a view of the only approach via Horseshoe Canyon. 

  Matt never went to jail for theft, but he got in major trouble over a shootout with a couple of fellows. Matt was the better shot.  Two men died, and Matt was arrested for murder in Vernal, Utah.  Butch Cassidy (of the Wild Bunch) heard his old friend Matt was in trouble.  He and the gang robbed a bank to provide Matt with money for an attorney.  Matt got 5 years in the Utah State Penitentiary for manslaughter.  After serving his time, he moved to Price, Utah, where he was elected justice of the peace and became a deputy sheriff.  As an older man, he gave up his wild ways except for a little whiskey making and bootlegging.  He wrote a book about his exploits, even drawing a crude map to show where he'd hidden out in the San Rafael desert when things got too hot in the more law-abiding areas.  Matt died of natural causes at age 74.

We rode about 23 miles on the Outlaw Trail, over rough country and through some deep sand in the creek bottoms.  We abstained from robbing any banks and kept the cattle rustling to a minimum.
Back at the trailer, the horses made themselves at home on a high line.  As usual, Boss wanted what Mischief was having.  Hay cubes and oats were plentiful for both.