Rough Ride Sightseeing By Saddle Is On Way To Gain A True Appreciation Of The Vast And Beautiful Wyoming Range

The rescue helicopter carrying an injured rider took off in a swirl of dust, leaving the rest of us unhurt, but hungry, thirsty and with 15 more miles to cover until sunset.

At this point, the idea of riding horses for a week across the Wyoming prairie didn’t seem like such a great idea after all.

When I was a young girl watching Westerns, I dreamed of galloping across the sagebrush and sleeping under the stars - just like the real rustlers of the old West. But I was destined, instead, to ride my pony only to the far reaches of the neighborhood.

This summer, I decided it was time to live out that childhood fantasy. So when I chose my cowboy trip through FITS Equestrian (one of a few travel agencies that arrange horse-related vacations), I didn’t want any wimpy stay at some plush lodge with short day trips. Noooo. I was drawn to the “Wild Bunch Ride” offered by Great Divide Tours of Lander, Wyo.

The week-long trip was billed as a fast-paced ride covering close to 200 miles through Butch Cassidy’s stomping grounds in central Wyoming. We would be moving a small herd of horses through open range grazed by large herds of wild horses. Most importantly, this trip called for experienced riders - no sissy “City Slickers” trip for me!

With visions of wide-open spaces and coffee around the campfire, members of our ride gathered at the Great Divide Tours ranch on a Saturday in June to begin our trip. Over a delicious buffet dinner, we met our outfitters - Ray and Pat Focht - and compadres for the week. Our ride would be relatively small, with just five guests and two wranglers: Belinda Munoz and Ray “Gus” Huggins. Our group included Sarah and Derith Hart of Snowmass, Colo.; Pam Piper, a teacher who spends the school year in Japan and summers in Santa Fe, N.M.; George Vonderlinden, a retired businessman from Edwards, Colo.; and myself. I felt a bit sorry for George, since he was the only male guest on the trip. He was in for a bit more female-bonding than he had anticipated.

Four tourists from Japan and their American interpreter joined us for dinner. They were going on a cattle drive - a week much like the “City Slickers” model and requiring less riding skill. One of the Japanese men explained that he had ridden for 100 hours (an expensive feat in Japan). Of course, members of our group were feeling a bit superior - we had all ridden since childhood.

After a pleasant night in the Great Divide bunkhouse, we took a 3-hour van ride northeast to the Mahogany Butte Ranch, near Ten Sleep, Wyo. There we picked out saddles and horses for the week.

Because we would be covering 30 to 50 miles each day, the wranglers matched each rider with two horses. Each day we would be riding one of our mounts and moving the herd of extra horses to the next campsite. There, we would be met by Wille and Laura Huggins and their daughter, Heidi, who would set up the overnight corral and tents and prepare meals from a former U-Haul truck specially modifed as a chuckwagon.

Throughout the week we were spoiled with terrific meals. Dinners included barbecued steak, chicken in mushroom sauce and a terrific quiche. Butch Cassidy never had it this good.

Monday morning we headed south on the first leg of our journey. We followed dirt ranch roads the first day because we were cutting through private land.

After so much anticipation, I was surprised at just how quickly the novelty of moving loose horses wore off. The real problem was stopping them - unless we came to a fence, we were at their mercy.

An empty corral reached at mid-day offered us the opportunity to take a real break for sack lunches. I spent the afternoon’s ride into Lost Cabin trying to use my telepathic skills on the loose horses to get them to slow down to a pleasant jog or - beyond hope - a walk.

Over dinner, our wrangler Belinda casually mentioned that since our group was so small, we had the option of sending the loose horses ahead in the stock trailer used to transport the corral. All of our cowboy ambitions quickly evaporated as we unanimously agreed to this excellent idea.

Sipping my wine and stretching my tired muscles, I came to the realization that I really didn’t care about the authenticity of our horse drive. It was going to be tough enough anyway.

Tuesday’s ride was much shorter (translation: better) covering about 30 miles. We were crossing mostly open range at this point and we ate lunch in Castle Gardens Petroglyph Site, where unusual rock formations act as canvases for ancient Native American pictographs. The other highlight of the day was finding a coyote skull in the sagebrush - a much better souvenir than a silly T-shirt.

Wednesday would prove to be our most exciting and challenging day of the entire trip. We started the 50-mile day by heading toward the eastern edge of Beaver Rim - one of Wyoming’s major escarpments.

Near the base, we had our first wild horse sighting. A lone stallion followed our progress from a nearby ridge. By staying quiet, we were able to ride very close to herds made up mostly of mares and young foals. Belinda and Gus also kept a lookout for a few ranch horses that were lost on a Wild Bunch ride the previous autumn.

We spotted a herd of elk as we made the steep climb to the top of Beaver Rim. After admiring the view, we cut across the fields of sagebrush at a quick pace. As we galloped down a dirt road, Pam’s horse tripped in a hole and the pair rolled to the ground. The horse jumped up immediately, but Pam lay unconscious, with her face in a small pool of blood. She came to in the next few minutes and didn’t appear to have any major injuries (a cut on her lip had caused most of the bleeding), but there was no possibility of her continuing the ride.

Belinda set out for help in the direction of the nearest road. As we waited with Pam, our group realized just how far from civilization we really were. Three hours later, Belinda returned with members of the local sheriff’s department. Luckily, the first vehicle she had met on the highway was equipped with emergency radios.

A helicopter landed using coordinates radioed by the emergency team and Pam was air-lifted to the hospital in Casper, Wyo.

Pam had earned the nickname “Lucky” in a game of hearts the night before and she proved really to be lucky. She survived what could have been a fatal fall with only some bad bruises, a stitched lip and a concussion. After spending Wednesday night in the hospital, she returned to the Great Divide ranch, where we saw her again on Friday.

Meanwhile, back in those dreadful wide-open spaces, our worn-out group mounted up and began our 15-mile ride to a location where Wille was supposed to meet us with the stock trailer and haul riders and horses the last few miles into camp.

By this time we had run out of water, lunch was a good six hours past and we were all thinking enviously about those Japanese tourists and their mild-mannered cattle drive.

The day went from bad to worse when we realized we had missed our rendezvous point with Wille and would have to ride an extra few miles into camp. I wanted to sit in the road and cry. The problem was, crying wasn’t going to get me there any faster.

Belinda wouldn’t tell us how many miles we had ridden that day, but as we ate dinner in the dark, she made the guess of “somewhere between 50 or 60 miles.” (I, of course, prefer to use 60 as my reference.)

On Thursday we got to sleep in and didn’t break camp until after lunch. Belinda, Gus and George spent the morning looking for wild horses. The rest of us steered clear of all things equine.

That afternoon, we dropped down off the western edge of Beaver Rim through Devil’s Slide - a great name for a trail. As we rode down a razor-sharp ridge, Belinda commented how glad she was that none of us were scared of heights - though at this point I just closed my eyes and trusted my sure-footed horse.

Our last night of camping brought our first taste of bad weather. High winds prompted a few desperados to abandon their tents for drier accommodations in the truck or horse trailer.

On Friday, our band of cowpokes dwindled yet again. George, Sarah and I bailed out on the last day of riding and rode home in the trucks. Derith, the sole survivor of the guests, rode alone that last morning with Belinda and Gus.

Back at the Great Divide ranch, we all cleaned up for a chuckwagon supper in the Piper Saloon - a barn loft remodeled and decorated down to the last spur and old wagon wheel. A smoked roast beef buffet and fun Western entertainment topped off the week’s adventure.

Over dinner, our group members concluded that while we had enjoyed seeing the countryside from a horse, maybe we weren’t cut out for such a difficult ride. Next time, I think I’ll try a nice lodge and take day rides - just what I previously thought I didn’t want to do!

With a feeling of accomplishment and true camaraderie, our group parted ways the next day - happy not to be riding into the sunset.

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: If you go Several national travel agencies offer vacation packages revolving around horse activities. From inn-to-inn rides in Wales, horseback safaris in Africa, or a tour of bed and breakfasts along the California coast, there’s something for every rider and every skill level. There are also several ways for the active rider to try a new discipline without having to make a long-term commitment, especially when it comes to buying equipment. You can try cross-country jumping at a castle in Ireland, for example, or tune up your dressage at a ranch in California. Here’s a list of agencies to contact for tour options: FITS Equestrian, 685 Lateen Road, Solvang, CA 93463; (800) 666-FITS. Equitours, P.O. Box 807, Dubois, WY 82513; (800) 545-0019. Cross Country International, P.O. Box 1170, Millbrook, NY 12545; (800) 828-8768 Trail Riders of the Canadian Rockies, Box 6742, Station D, Calgary, Alberta T2P 2E6; (403) 220-9883.