Bullseye in Big Sky Country
Every year my husband and I give each other a surprise trip. It was my turn so I gave my beloved his own “City Slickers” dream come true. He played cowboy for a week at a real working cattle ranch. I was a cowgirl in disguise. Before embarking on this inventure to the middle of Big Sky Country I wanted to read up on how the west was won. Or lost if you were a Native American. I purchased the classic western novel, “The Big Sky” and the original soundtrack on CD of “Rawhide” by none other than Sheb Wooley. I then visited the marvelous website http://www.thatsrich.com/cowboy.htm. The site gives you an idea of cowboy wisdom and humor. If you do not like corny humor, well you won’t like cowboy humor. On the fascinating history of Buffalo Bill Cody and his traveling show, check out http://www.buffalobill.com/. This website helped me to define my adventure holiday. That led me to http://www.montanadra.com/working where I chose the Schively Ranch. I chose Schively based on it’s informal and warm atmosphere presented on the web in a folksy way which just can’t be copywritten by a slick agency. In fact the whole family works on the ranch full-time so the guests live with them during their stay at Schively. Unique. The location, price and experience offered appealed to the worker in me, albeit the hard worker. You can email the Schively at schively@tctwest.net for information about spring, summer and autumn ranch holidays. You will receive a prompt and informative response from one of the family members answering emails.
Billings, Montana
We arrived in the Rimrock town of 110,000, the day the world’s largest Harley Davidson convention was rounding up, the Sturgis, originating in South Dakota. Over 70,000 bikers convene for a couple of days of fun and jamming on Harley’s. A new Harley can cost as much as $18,000. The impression of a black jacketed redneck with skull and crossbones tattoos is old. These days some rich corporate lawyers take their trailers to lug out their Harley collections. Outside of the Ponderosa Inn – a Best Western hotel (with a generous sized outdoor swimming pool) in downtown rather, one horse town Billings we met a former firefighter and current retiree named At Veach.
At showed us the best store in town to purchase our cowboy gear. Make at stop at: Connolly Saddlery at 2911 Montana Avenue in downtown Billings. Tel: 1-406-252-3312. Ask for Dave or Barb Wagner the owners. You’ll need gear if you want to ride Western and survive the heat which doesn’t make you sweat mind you; it could be 45 Celsius yet dry as a bone on a lonesome prairie. A good cowboy hat will provide protection from the sun as will a silk scarf round your neck. Spurs do the trick to speed them already wild horses. An authentic vest or pair of cowhide chaps will impress your citified friends at home.
Beartooth mountains in Cook County
We booked one week at the ranch however our van wasn’t due to pick us up from Billings till late in the afternoon the day after arrival. Our new friend At decided to drive around 300 miles roundtrip to show us the breathtaking Beartooth Mountains situated on the border of Wyoming roundabout Red Lodge and Cook City. The mountains are virtually uninhabited. 11,000 feet of snow capped wonder with cacti, pine and oak trees, sagebrush and thousands of little colored flowers blossoming all around. Switzerland is renown for its mountains however here there were no people nor housing developments nor hotels. You breath in cottonwood and pine scented air which is crisp and feel at one with nature respecting the fact that you are just a small spec in the universal cosmos. It gave me that A-HA feeling.
We passed Gillett, Wyoming and it wasn’t a razor blade that we visited. There was Russian olive trees without olives or Russians although the smell was noxious and native. Spruce, lodge tree pines, poplar, elm and ash trees whizzed by the flatland foothills on Route 90-94. In this part of the USA, a creek is called a crick and pronounced just as it sounds.
State fair & Rodeo
The Thunder Country Rodeo at the Montana State Fair is a galloping event. It’s one of the largest in the entire rodeo circuit, which stretches from the Lone Star State of Texas way up northwest to Montana. There you can go gah-gah at steer wrestling, bull riding (ain’t no bull, ma’am), ladies break away roping of calves, horses and bulls, bareback riding and shenanigans which happen within a blink of an eye. The sequences last no longer than tens of seconds. Everything happens so fast I recommend that you sit in the front bottom rows of the stadium near the exit. Unless you have a pair of binoculars.
Those down home girls from the home on the ranch
The Montana State Fair is at once corny and provincial yet large. Loads of rides – humongous rockets, swings and water slides plus the usual darts, grab a stuffed plush with a crane (and lose your money), rifles etc. etc. The best ride and one I’ve never been on is a parachute. Each seat sits three, neh, lays three. You get in by sliding on your stomach whilst your legs are airborne as you grab onto the wingtips of the glider. You really feel like you’re flying. I am a kid at heart. This ride got the prize. Check out http://www.funone.com to see “I resign” as an adult.
We witnessed the local state talent show for girl’s aged 3 through 10. Simply adorable. Little cowgirls in all their Sunday best singing and dancing country and western, disco/hip hop sans country gear. All the while munching on delicacies from the stalls including dilled pickles, pretzels, hot dogs with chili and the absolute best Vietnamese eggrolls! Of course we didn’t eat that at one sitting, yuck.
Cowboy wisdom (revisited)
In the great expanse of sky and land, Montanans think of their state as a country. No wonder! It’s larger than Benelux, part of France and Germany put together. From the mountaintop where we cooked a BBQ, we could see a stretch of 100 miles or 160 kilometers. No fooling. In our quest for true cowboy wisdom the words poured out like drops of dew. Here’s our take on it.
- A good fight is better than a snake’s bite
- If you can’t cope then get a rope
- What’s an instant? The time it takes from when the light turns green till the guy behind you honks
- Why did they make the barns round? So the ghosts don’t have any corners to hide in
- Money can’t buy happiness but by God it’s way ahead of what’s in second place
One from At Veatch: A sheriff is not necessarily nine feet tall – even if they think they’re king shit of the Joliet police. How tall is he? Tall enough for you to kick em in his weasel. (For you Blues Brothers fans, question of the month). Is Joliet, Montana the place where they’re supposed to hail from?
Cowboy Ditty (this is an original Elise Krentzel hee-haw)
My tush was mush on the Western trail
my horse wouldn’t budge even with a nudge
so I kicked him with spurs
till push came to shove
Ranch days
Joe and Iris Bassett own the Schively, both in their late seventies -strong as bulls and sweet as molasses. They are the quintessential “good folk” of American epics. Their daughter Jennifer works on the ranch with her two feisty yet extremely polite sons, Tyler and KC, mini-cowboys with a sense of humour bred in cow country. If anyone from the East Coast, let alone Europe tries to understand it, forget about it. You have to be born out west. Brad, a cowboy in training acts as a pseudo-leader on the trails, his wife Mary Elizabeth helps around the house with cleaning and customer (guest) support in case they’re arses are in a state of shock, as mine was after the third day. There’s a great chef, Marge who cooks non-stop 12 hours a day.
Sample meal
What did you expect out here in these parts? Meat was the main event of course. And meat it was every single night. Turkey dinner a 20 pounder – a faux Thanksgiving with stuffing and cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes one night and the rest, RED MEAT. Roast beef, beef potpie British style, steak, hamburgers, The best corn in the USA, sweet baby corn on the cob.
These down home finger lickin’ good old-fashioned meals brought back long forgotten TV commercial jingles from my childhood. Really now, I was reminiscing with Marge and Mary Elizabeth over Good n’ Plenty Charlie says… and Wonder Bread, “those seven wondrous years”.
The Guests
A total of 14 guests from around the globe were part of our group in August. 3 Swiss guys from canton Argau (known irreverently as Achtung Gefahr canton or attention, bad drivers country); Steve (a humanist lawyer who reminded me of my hippie days) and his son (an athlete, dancer and in general brilliant kid) from Idaho; a born again preaching Christian woman from France, from France? with her adorable sporty horse riding three year old girl; Rand, a lovely fatherly type gentleman from Michigan with his two daughters (also a lawyer however humane, really folks!) and some other children. Margie, a stupendous woman from Fort Collins, Colorado taught me how to gallop without fear. She’s a portrait artist & photographer. Anyone interested in western art and motifs can write to her at: Mourning Dove Photography, 4780 Totonka Trail, LaPorte, Colorado 80535 USA for a catalog or sample of her outstanding work.
The routine
Each day we arose at nearly sun up, 6:00- 6:30 took our showers then went to eat a hearty American scrumptious breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, waffles, eggs, oatmeal, fruit – you had your pick of the crop. It was a great way to start the day. Lucy, the abandoned calf was fed each morning from a bucket. I put my hand in her mouth to discover what felt like one part Velcro, one part slime. The calf tongue is live sandpaper. Depending on where the cows where, whoa oh oh…. Our rides lasted anywhere from six hours to four in one clip. Joe and Brad switched our horses on a daily basis depending on our level of skill. My favorite was named ‘52’ and lucky for me I rode him twice
What does it feel like to see endless vistas of land, rolling hills, plains of sagebrush with its fragrant odor, hues of yellows – from cornhusk to marigold, burnished earth tones for stretches further than 160 kilometers and NO one in SIGHT? You feel free, alive, courageous, fearless and mostly at one with your animal. You feel as though the earth was created for you, as part of nature. As time stands still you envelop the life around you as it envelops you producing a peace, a calm. The horses trot up narrowly steep gauges and cricks, over boulders and rocks and guide you home in the pitch-black night. The horses ride into tangles of woods unharmed and lead you home safely.
Roping was a blast. Oops whoops loopity loops and the ropes loped over our heads around our necks just in the nick of time to catch another guest. It was like a Mr. Bean roping scene near the front porch. What did I say to the rope? “Nope”. It ain’t for me so I let it be.
To hear the sound of wild black Hereford cows is a clarion call to your sixth sense, cow sense that is. They moo like wolves and they’re fast as hell. I honestly had never seen a cow run, let alone stampede until Schively. We followed a herd up and over mountainous hills to get them back to the ranch. Exhausted after three hours of non-stop cattle herding in the blazing saddles we’d return to the ranch for food, rest and comfort.
A word of caution. If you are not a steady horse rider then you’d better work out for a ranch vacation. There is no rest for the weary. You will discover tendons, muscles and veins you never knew existed. Nuprin or Motrin will be your saving grace. Four times a day.
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