“Malo periculosam, libertatem quam quietam servitutem.”
There be Griz in that neck of the woods.
Thar be a 454 Casull in that neck of the woods looking for bear meat. But, river's too wiggly to land a plane, a disadvantage. Might have to stay the winter.
Pack in with your remuda of horses and hope that they're not eaten by griz or killed by the harsh winter - or by you to survive the harsh winter. The land is deceptively bucolic.