This was taken on my first trip in, probably about 1 hour before the scariest moment I had while working in The Bob. Jen, a guest on the left, and Janis, the owner on the right are watching the front moving in. Soon after leaving this lunch spot (where the White river and S. Fork join) we headed back on the west side of the river through a forest of dead full sized trees that were killed years previous in a wildfire. Their roots were rotted out and they were ready to fall with a swift wind. I was in the rear of the group, ponying Midnight (a riderless horse). The wind front hit full blast and the trees started falling like matchsticks. I kept my head up, scanning...scanning...scanning. Finally, one was coming straight down at me and Buster. The problem was the sides of the trails were piled up with jackstrawed trees, so there was no where to go. Buster's athleticism shined, as I kicked and scooted him with my legs, he jumped into the holes in the jackstraw. I dropped Midnight's rope. We barely missed getting hit...the tree fell in between us and Midnight. I had to dismount, pick an extremely startled Midnight's rope back up and carry on in the rear. We made it back it camp and all felt a new sense of camaraderie after having made it through that together. I wanted to leave the Bob right then and there. Needless to say I didn't...