Hiddenhearth
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- May 16, 2001
- Messages
- 41
I'm back. Too bad there's not a "Dude" or a "Wyoming" Forum somewhere, for I'd love to ramble on about what I saw last week. Then again, if there was, I'd probably go on and on about the beauty of that territory.
If you'll bear with me, though, let me tell you a little about my last week.
In south central Wyoming, fourteen relatives of my MIL stayed in a Guest Ranch. This ranch - now into its 3rd generation of ownership - began taking guests in the 1920's. My MIL's sister, when she was a young, fashionable lady from the East, went there in the late 1930's, fell in love with one of the 6 dashing sons of the owners, married, remained in Wyoming, and eventually went on to run this ranch - with her husband - until about fifteen years ago.
This lady (my DW's aunt, now living in Denver) began arranging last week's reunion - at the ranch - more than a year ago - and then proceeded to badly break her leg 2 days before the reunion. Needless to say, she couldn't go.
The rest of us did. I was the only one of the group who hadn't been there before. Once there, I could see why my DW and her relatives had talked so fondly of their treks to this Shangri-La over the years.
Nine miles up a canyon from a town of 23 people, this ranch sat in flat, lush grassland with towering cottonwood trees. Elevation at this place was over 7000 feet and far from what I'd call civilization. No newspapers, no radio, no TV, no cell phone reception. The nearest gas station was 21 miles away. The nearest supermarket an hour-and-a-half's drive.
The ranchhand in charge of the horses at this ranch was not like Jack Valance in "City Slickers" at all. A wiry, seasoned cowboy, retired from the rodeo life, he enjoyed conversation with us Eastern city slickers as we ambled along on the trails. He would talk about horses, and eagles, and rattlesnakes. He once had a mountain lion for a pet. For twelve years this big cat lived in his house. He would drive into town with the lion and his dog sitting on the seat of his truck. I think he must have been able to leave the keys in the ignition.
This cowboy, Jim, spent winters alone at this ranch in a log cabin. The loneliness must be as brutal as the weather. He had a wife for a while, but she left. Maybe because of the mountain lion in the house. He said she took his favorite dog when she left. I think he missed him more than her. He said that up there, in that town, when your gal leaves you like she did, you don't lose your woman - you just lose your turn.
In any case, on these trail rides, last week, we'd go up the valley, criss-crossing the river. Two other canyons joined the one the ranch was in, and sometimes we'd go up one of these. No matter how far we rode in these private, state, and federal lands, there was no sign of human life. We saw cattle and deer. A golden eagle flew by. A large rattlesnake lay in our path.
Jim's dog, Quita, alerted us about the snake by jumping into the air when he nearly stepped on it. Jim then quickly got off his horse. He would have had us all turn around, but since we were on a narrow path leading up the side of a sandstone cliff, we could not. So, he waited for the rattler to move into the rocks, in the wall of the cliff, before instructing us to move quickly along. I thought the horses would be spooked by the sound of the snake's rattle as we passed, but they were actually more nervous going by a fresh deer carcass elsewhere, in the sage. Jim said that the deer must have been killed by a mountain lion.
From the canyons Jim would lead us up onto the plains. Once out of these valleys, there were no trees - only sage brush - and one could see far, far across the flat but gently sloping landscape to the mountain ranges, deceptively many miles away.
One day I took a drive in the car. I drove in one circle, on dirt roads, through National Forest, through a white aspen forest, across a valley up to the Continental Divide, then down another even more vast valley. I went as fast as I dared, generally at speeds up to 50 mph. The drive took 3 1/2 hours. I did not see anyone along the way. Not one car. I did see a house - one house.
No, Dorothy, we were not in Rhode Island anymore.
I'm sorry. I digress. You are here in this website to read about Disney and I've gotten a little far afield. But I must tell you that in that vast, lonely landscape, I thought many times about the Magic, as incongruous as it sounds. I thought about how I might share my thoughts about my last two days on the ship. And if anyone is still with me on this, I shall continue. Steve.
If you'll bear with me, though, let me tell you a little about my last week.
In south central Wyoming, fourteen relatives of my MIL stayed in a Guest Ranch. This ranch - now into its 3rd generation of ownership - began taking guests in the 1920's. My MIL's sister, when she was a young, fashionable lady from the East, went there in the late 1930's, fell in love with one of the 6 dashing sons of the owners, married, remained in Wyoming, and eventually went on to run this ranch - with her husband - until about fifteen years ago.
This lady (my DW's aunt, now living in Denver) began arranging last week's reunion - at the ranch - more than a year ago - and then proceeded to badly break her leg 2 days before the reunion. Needless to say, she couldn't go.
The rest of us did. I was the only one of the group who hadn't been there before. Once there, I could see why my DW and her relatives had talked so fondly of their treks to this Shangri-La over the years.
Nine miles up a canyon from a town of 23 people, this ranch sat in flat, lush grassland with towering cottonwood trees. Elevation at this place was over 7000 feet and far from what I'd call civilization. No newspapers, no radio, no TV, no cell phone reception. The nearest gas station was 21 miles away. The nearest supermarket an hour-and-a-half's drive.
The ranchhand in charge of the horses at this ranch was not like Jack Valance in "City Slickers" at all. A wiry, seasoned cowboy, retired from the rodeo life, he enjoyed conversation with us Eastern city slickers as we ambled along on the trails. He would talk about horses, and eagles, and rattlesnakes. He once had a mountain lion for a pet. For twelve years this big cat lived in his house. He would drive into town with the lion and his dog sitting on the seat of his truck. I think he must have been able to leave the keys in the ignition.
This cowboy, Jim, spent winters alone at this ranch in a log cabin. The loneliness must be as brutal as the weather. He had a wife for a while, but she left. Maybe because of the mountain lion in the house. He said she took his favorite dog when she left. I think he missed him more than her. He said that up there, in that town, when your gal leaves you like she did, you don't lose your woman - you just lose your turn.
In any case, on these trail rides, last week, we'd go up the valley, criss-crossing the river. Two other canyons joined the one the ranch was in, and sometimes we'd go up one of these. No matter how far we rode in these private, state, and federal lands, there was no sign of human life. We saw cattle and deer. A golden eagle flew by. A large rattlesnake lay in our path.
Jim's dog, Quita, alerted us about the snake by jumping into the air when he nearly stepped on it. Jim then quickly got off his horse. He would have had us all turn around, but since we were on a narrow path leading up the side of a sandstone cliff, we could not. So, he waited for the rattler to move into the rocks, in the wall of the cliff, before instructing us to move quickly along. I thought the horses would be spooked by the sound of the snake's rattle as we passed, but they were actually more nervous going by a fresh deer carcass elsewhere, in the sage. Jim said that the deer must have been killed by a mountain lion.
From the canyons Jim would lead us up onto the plains. Once out of these valleys, there were no trees - only sage brush - and one could see far, far across the flat but gently sloping landscape to the mountain ranges, deceptively many miles away.
One day I took a drive in the car. I drove in one circle, on dirt roads, through National Forest, through a white aspen forest, across a valley up to the Continental Divide, then down another even more vast valley. I went as fast as I dared, generally at speeds up to 50 mph. The drive took 3 1/2 hours. I did not see anyone along the way. Not one car. I did see a house - one house.
No, Dorothy, we were not in Rhode Island anymore.
I'm sorry. I digress. You are here in this website to read about Disney and I've gotten a little far afield. But I must tell you that in that vast, lonely landscape, I thought many times about the Magic, as incongruous as it sounds. I thought about how I might share my thoughts about my last two days on the ship. And if anyone is still with me on this, I shall continue. Steve.
)
!
but it wasn't there. Please hurry and tell us more about your cruise so we can then hear more about your dude ranch vacation. 
