Right at the Niche, we entered the Ansel Adams Wilderness. That's where that first horse-packing party passed us. The husband was apparently on a fishing trip, and the wife appeared to be humoring him. Her sarcastic comments made it clear that she was not particuarly enjoying the trip so far. The horse she got saddled with was young and seemed to me to be somewhat inexperienced, stomping up the rocks and jarring the rider with every step. Wrong horse for that novice rider; loose saddle; just sloppy work on the outfitters' part.