Keep Them Doggies Rollin’!

I’ve always been fascinated with the American West but I can’t tell you why. It’s not as if I grew up on a ranch raising livestock or caring for crops. My family lived in a nice Southern California tract house, complete with the requisite swimming pool. My parents were white-collar professionals busy raising four children and, to my knowledge, nobody in my extended family ever wore anything resembling western wear. I spent years in the Boy Scouts and enjoyed sleeping under the stars, but so did many of my childhood friends and none of them grew up wishing they could climb on a horse and drive cattle.

Like many baby boomers, I grew up playing “cowboys and Indians” and watched television shows like Bonanza , The Rifleman, and Gunsmoke. And who didn’t want to be John Wayne in Stagecoach, Gary Cooper in High Noon, or James Stewart in Winchester 73?

As an adult I’ve consumed western novels, from Jack Schaefer’s Shane to Larry McMurtry’s Pulitzer-winning Lonesome Dove. I enjoy any autobiographical accounts of frontier life (a favorite remains Pioneer Women: Voices From the Kansas Frontier by Joanna Stratton) and remain captivated by the perseverance and spirit of adventure it took for emigrants to load up and head west, chasing only a faint promise of a better life.

When I was hired at Wells Fargo, I may have been more excited about walking next door to see a real stagecoach and exploring the Wells Fargo History Museum than I was about my new job. They even had a mock stagecoach that you could climb into and, with the push of a button, simulate riding on a wagon trail by getting tossed around. It was more like a “bouncy” version of one of those mechanical rocking horses that used to sit outside of grocery stores but I still thought it was pretty neat. All that was missing was dirt, horses, and the aroma of five other passengers who bathed once a week, at best. Being the curator for their museum would have been my dream job but it turns out that you actually have to know something about museum operations and collecting and, besides, they probably wouldn’t have let me “ride” in the stagecoach all day long.

Bev has always known of my deep appreciation of the outdoors and my strong sense of adventure. She’s been aware of my interest in the past in order to understand the current, as well as my enjoyment of western stories. Yet none of that prepared her for the moment when I suddenly said “I’ve always wanted to do a cattle drive.” On a horse. Wearing a cowboy hat. And boots. And chaps. On a ranch in Montana. The real deal. Well, except for sleeping on the ground, cooking over an open fire, eating bad food, and smelling terrible. I did that as a teenager in Boy Scouts and don’t need to relive it in my sixties.

So began the planning for our most recent road trip. Everything was built around the cattle drive, a full-day event at Triple Creek Ranch in Montana. Triple Creek is a high-end summer camp for adults, where you can ride horses, hike, fly fish, skeet shoot, ride all-terrain vehicles, and practice your archery skills. It also happens to come with beautiful cabins, gourmet food, a pool and sauna, and alcohol. That’s all nice but they had me at “cattle drive”.

We re-watched City Slickers, the 1991 film starring Billy Crystal about a man who works through his mid-life crisis by going on a cattle drive with his buddies and comes home with a calf named Norman. My cattle drive obsession has never been in response to a life crisis; however, Bev suddenly got ideas about adopting her own Norman.

All of our friends laughed when we told them that we were going to chase cattle in Montana. They thought that the sight of me in a cowboy hat would be pretty silly. I didn’t care. I was going all in. I researched the best western wear store along our westward route and Bev added it to the detailed itinerary. I did some homework on cowboy hats and knew that I needed a straw hat (not felt), but other than that it was going to be a matter of just trying them on. The night before the Great Cowboy Hat purchase, I could barely sleep and kept telling Bev “I get my hat tomorrow!” I was worse than a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for dawn. We strolled into Hoglund’s Western Wear the next day to find hats displayed everywhere you could stack or hang them. I had to pinch myself and must have tried on half the hats in the store. Bev quickly zeroed in one that made her the best looking cowgirl in the West. The Wrangler jeans she bought didn’t hurt, either. Yeehaw! We chose our hats and one of the employees used a hat steamer to shape them for the proper look (brim down, sides up a bit). We had the look. All we needed were horses and cattle.

A few days later, as luck would have it, we got to practice our riding skills in Missoula. In case you missed it, here’s a short video.

Once we arrived at the ranch, we had to complete a guided horseback ride to test our rudimentary equine skills. We managed to remain upright, demonstrate proper command of our horses, and appear confident. Hats – check. Practice ride on a carousel horse – check. Test ride on real horses – done. Bring on the cattle because we looked like pros!

When our big Cattle Drive day finally arrived, eight of us were driven to a working ranch where we saddled up and received our instructions. Up until then we didn’t know what to expect and thought there was a chance the whole thing could be cheesy, with us roaming around not doing any real work while our wrangler guides moved a few old cattle for photo opportunities. We were quickly dispelled of that notion when the lead wrangler explained that we would be gathering anywhere from 100-800 cattle and driving them using “flankers” and “pushers”. We would have two forward flankers and two rear flankers to funnel the cattle, with everyone else pushing the herd from behind. Our two wranglers would serve as pointers, directing everyone as the cattle moved. We were warned about unstable terrain, rattlesnakes, rogue livestock, water crossings, and other hazards. Cattle would be behind fences, on the wrong property, under trees, in mud, and otherwise where they weren’t supposed to be. Holy smokes!

We headed out and quickly located our stray cattle. The “boss” asked for a flanker up front to help her get them moving. I didn’t hesitate to give my horse a kick and spring into action!

We gathered more cattle as we went, forcing them out of hiding spots and into the herd. Many of them got spooked at a water crossing with muddy banks and had to be chased around. Newsflash – cattle are stubborn and not very bright.

We spent a lot of time yelling “go on cows!” as we rounded them up. I even used my best Tennessee “git!” Caution was required, as all it took was for one to start running and it would turn into a stampede.

The “wild west” may have been tamed long ago but I still got to be a cowboy for a day, rounding up cattle and moving them across ranch lands. This was as great as I thought it would be and I got to share it with the love of my life. That was the icing on the cake.

When we returned to Triple Creek and thanked our lead wrangler for a wonderful day, she said, “Now you need to come back in April for our Spring Branding and Cowboy School”.

Wait. SAY WHAAAAAAT?