One of the real joys I have these days besides my life with Mary, is talking with people I meet each time I go to town. Last week I met up with my friend, Earl Yost at our morning watering hole, Quinet’s. We were joined by someone I have known from a distance for years. But our lives were in different worlds so we just never got acquainted. That was until recently.

Last fall I visited Paul Faux at his home on Tarpon Ridge. It was a chance to get acquainted with his two mules, Doc and Bugs. Like most of you I have from time to time seen Paul and one of his wagons being pulled by his prize mules coming up Main Street. A sight most won’t forget.

On the day we visited, Paul had harnessed up his mules to a stage coach and prepared to take me for a ride, along with his dog, Yoda. You must understand Yoda weighs about 20 pounds, but Yoda in his mind goes close to ninety when protecting Paul. For the next hour I rode with him along the ridge, while Earl took pictures for a project he was working on. For just a moment in time, I sensed how a stage coach shotgun rider must have felt waiting for the desperadoes to come out of the hills with guns blazing.

In our case, the only things that came out of the hills were two chipmunks. They must have been a dispute over ownership of a prize hickory nut they were fighting over in the road. Let me tell you how Zane Gray might have described the scene? “The road was dusty in the morning sun as the two Chipmunk Brothers sauntered into its center. Chip had a wild look in his eyes as he sized up the hickory nut Dale held in his jaws. Suddenly the two furry critters were rolling around in the dust fighting over the nut. Unexpectedly there was a sharp sound of nuts cracking…stay tuned for the next chapter.” A little wild adventure in the early part of this story will help you get into the mood.

During our ride, Paul told that he was about three or four years of age when he began riding his dad’s work horses. Somewhere along the line his dad traded in the horse for a tractor. Fortunately, he realized Paul’s love for the horse and purchased him a pony. Paul laughed as he told me the horses were gentle and paid attention to his commands. But, the pony must have had a lot of mule in him as he had a mind of his own.

I asked about his wagon train rides out west and his mules. He explained that he started out with horses pulling his wagon. But on one trip he lost one of his mares. Tom Kirkland lent him a mule to finish the trip. Paul realized from that time forward he wanted a pair of good mules when he went west.

Paul’s mules stand tall as a man, and are very gentle and well mannered. Chestnut brown with friendly disposition, you would from a distance, mistake them for a couple well-bred work horses. Paul said, “Stroke the inside of his ear and he will be your friend forever.” Sure enough, after a short time the twelve hundred pound mule’s head was leaning against my shoulder.

Mules were for many years bred with older mares. Often their disposition was unfriendly and difficult to work with. But today, a Tennessee walking horse is bred with a mule to sire a fine looking, good tempered working mule.

Paul has for many years spent much of his time on wagon trains and riding on backwoods trails with others. On such a trail in Virginia last fall while riding with a group, Paul’s life changed. About three and a half miles into the wilderness Paul noticed his left leg was feeling as if it had a Charlie horse. Before long he knew he was in a bad situation. His foot had also become numb and it was not going away.

Being so far into the ride, it took them an hour to make their way out. An ambulance and medical personnel were supposed to be waiting, but they weren’t. After a while the medical personal arrived and were convinced, Paul was suffering from a leg cramp and nothing more serious. Paul knew he was in trouble even if the EMT’s didn’t. He was taken to a hospital where no doctor was on duty. After some tests were run, it was realized that Paul’s concerns were real. At that point it was near midnight and he was taken by helicopter to a hospital in North Carolina. A blood clot had stopped the blood flow to his leg for too long. The only way to save his life at that point was to remove the leg above the knee.

Paul returned to West Virginia and was sent to Peterson for rehab and worked toward the use of an artificial leg. That was last fall. On the day we had breakfast, he was using his artificial leg and crutches. I asked how the experience had changed his life. If you knew Paul before the event, you know he was an active man with a love for his mules and his wagons. But now his life had changed.

Paul was determined to be able to ride again. He found a trainer who could work with horses and mules and get them to lay down so a rider could get on. It took six weeks, but Doc was trained on command to lay down and let Paul get into the saddle. Paul showed me on his phone a video of the mule laying down and him getting on. Both of them have come a long way to get to that point.

I asked in closing, “What do you want people to remember of Paul Faux when his time has passed.” He smiled as he said, “I want them to think of the man who came up the street with his wagons and mules. That will be enough.”

Paul Faux impressed me as a man, who at 81 is still wanting to enjoy life with his animals. He loves the wagon train rides out west. He spoke of the history he and his wagon traveled over as the wheels rode in the same grooves cut into the prairie by wagons 150 years ago. He knew as the day came to an end, he was seeing the same sunsets that Mormon travelers would have seen. The slow pace of the wagons gave him a sense of those early pioneers and the uncertainty they must have felt crossing hundreds of miles of open land, heading towards the unknown. Paul Faux may be heading for the unknown, but he is still the Wagon Master of his life as he looks Through the Lens.