Rodeo - OH! My Western Adventure - Days 5 & 6

I'm sorry to be dragging out this tale!  But. Must. Finish.


Here are my answers to a random questionnaire taken "way back when" before I sat in the stands of the Cheyenne Frontier Days Arena:

Would you describe yourself as a sports fan?            NO
Have you attended a rodeo?                                       YES
      If yes, where?                                                       MARKET SQUARE ARENA, INDIANAPOLIS
What is your favorite rodeo event?                            BULL RIDING, IF I HAVE TO PICK ONE
Are you able to sit for hours in 90+ degree heat?      HECK NO
Are you willing to sit in the blazing sun for hours?   IS THIS A SERIOUS QUESTION?  NEVER!
Could you find your husband in a crowd?                 REALLY?  YEAH...WITH ONE EYE CLOSED




The weekend spent at the "Daddy of 'em all" Cheyenne Frontier Days rodeo scrambled my belief system....no, really.  It allowed me - forced me to redefine myself.  I'm now forced to call myself a sports fan....of only one sport:  RODEO.

I walked wide-eyed up the stairs of the grandstand -- wishing I had more eyes to take in all the sights.  I wanted to remember all of it... the people (spectators, cowboys, clowns, contestants, entertainers, announcers); the arena (bull pens, horse pens, grandstands, chutes); the animals (fierce, muscular bulls; rambunctious, rowdy steers; proud, athletic broncs; gentle mares & adorable foals).

Check out these formidable bulls!

They look calm....are looks deceiving?

Cowboy checks out the stock

Chute 9 --- my new favorite event starts here

By Midwestern standards, a 94 degree day would spell misery;  but in Wyoming's low humidity and steady breeze it was down right bearable--dare I say, comfortable--even in the the blazing sunshine.  I kept my wide-brimmed cowgirl hat on, though.  While we were in South Dakota, Cowboy suggested that I get a chinstrap for it and so I did.  Good idea, Cowboy!  Bracing against the strong breeze, I tightened my chinstrap from time to time trying not to look too much like a pretender (which is actually how I felt.  I was certain that the real westerners saw through my disguise).   As the afternoon wore on, the angle of the sun changed to blare right on us.  Moans and grumblings rose up all around us.  Lots of folks rearranged themselves to get in the shade of the pavilion...not us.  We sat there undaunted.

I didn't want to eat, drink, use the restroom, or even talk if it meant I had to look away from the action.  As a matter of fact, I didn't even want to take the time to focus my camera.  I learned in a hurry to set my focus to a certain point in the arena and wait till a cowboy crossed into it. 

Bull riding, called a "roughstock" event, was the first and before that weekend, my favorite event.  Because of the location of chutes from our seats and the guy with the iphone and my lack of a photography strategy, most of my bull riding shots get 2 thumbs down.

The pick-up men & bull fighters:  These truly amazing cowboys are the ones at the top of this frame.

All the hours I spent watching the PBR bull riding stuff on TV and the "rodeo" we saw 20 some years ago became NOTHING compared to watching the REAL bull riding  in Cheyenne!  The riders were awesome - spitting in the face of danger - willing to ride a keg of dynamite.  As impressive (or more so) were the pick-up men and the bull fighters.  They are the rescue guys of the arena.  They help and protect the rider once he's off the bull, round up the bull and lead him out of the arena.  They are true cowboys in every sense of the word -- fearless -- and as exciting to watch as the events themselves. 

Out of Chute 9 came the most exciting rodeo event my eyes have beheld!  Steer wrestling!  Oh My!  Here's what I read in the rodeo program:  "The objective of the steer wrestler, who is also known as a 'bulldoger,' is to use strength and technique to wrestle a steer, sometimes twice the cowboy's weight, to the ground from a horse, frequently moving at 30mph, as quickly as possible.  The clock stops when all four legs of the steer are extended on the same side.  A hazer rides outboard of the steer to keep him tracking straight."   Swoon. 

Look at these cowboys!  They are at a gallop on their horses and still dive off onto a rowdy steer, grab him by head and throw him down on his side. Unbelievable!  My new favorite sporting event! Sorry, bull riding.

Bareback riding, also a roughstock event, became my second favorite (lagging waaaaay behind steer wrestling and dropping bull riding to 3rd place).  The riders use a leather rigging to "tie" them to the horse.  As the horse and rider leave the chute, the rider is flat on his back on the horse's back.  It's crazy!  I got more shots here because of the technique I figured out.  Veteran photographers, my apology...I'm sure it has a technical, industry term...but I called it focus on the spot in the arena and take the shot when some creature lands in the spot.

Steer roping and tie-down roping were awesome events, too!  The difference between the events (as far as I could tell) was in the steer roping the calf had to be roped around the horns only. The cowboy and his horse become one - like a well-oiled machine.  The calf gets a big head start, then the horse and cowboy thunder up from behind.  The horse knows exactly when to stop after the cowboy throws his rope and catches the calf.  As the horse stops, the cowboy jumps off, sprints to the calf and ties 3 of its 4 feet together.  I fell in love with the horses!  They were so smart, and I just knew they really wanted to do a good job for their cowboys.  I cheered for the horses...I think I even teared up a bit because I was so proud of them.

Look how far the horse dragged the calf in order to make sure the rope had no slack.  I teared up.

Rookie saddle bronc riding was fun to watch.  The contestants are in their first year of rodeo competition and have earned less than $1000 at sanctioned rodeos.

 

 

Women's barrel racing.  Cool!   This is one of my favorite shots.  Confession:  I'm sorry that this has turned into you sitting in my living room watching the slides from my vacation.  I don't even have any fondue or Jiffy-pop or 7-Up to serve you. 

Look at that wonderful horse.  He's trying so hard to do a good job for his girl!

As we headed out of the stands at the rodeo's end, I got separated from Cowboy.  I admit I panicked.  Heretofore, all I had to do was search for a tall guy wearing cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, a plaid shirt and a white cowboy hat.  Easy task in the Midwest where most guys are in jeans, t-shirts and seed corn ball caps.  Not in Wyoming!   The outfit I just described is apparently the official Wyoming uniform.  I searched the sea of white straw cowboy hats and plaid shirts.  We finally met up.  Why he couldn't wait outside the women's restroom for me is beyond my comprehension!!

At the rodeo's end, I knew I was meant to be a cowgirl.  I started using the lingo -- like "next go-round" as if I talked like that all the time.   I was as sad as a kid leaving Disney World when it was time to head back home.  I determined to look for property for sale around Cheyenne once I was back at my computer.  I fell in love with Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Day 7....Colorado....don't get your hopes up, though.

Cowgirl vs. Cowgirl....Round 1

Remember back when I did all that trick riding and rodeo stuff?  

No?  

Know why you don't remember? 

 'CAUSE IT NEVER HAPPENED?

Confession:  I love horses.  I love to look at them.  I love to pet them.  I love to brush them.  I love their elegance and grace.  I love the rhythm of their hoof-beats when they're running.  I love to hear them nicker softly or whinny excitedly.  I love to imagine that I'm an accomplished rider.

So this morning...this beautiful, first day of fall, sunny but chilly morning....after 15 years (that's a decade and a half), Cowboy saddled up a horse for me to ride.

ok, wait....I have to tell you this part:  

Last night he said, "we're going riding tomorrow with Rancher and his kids.  I'm worried that it will be too much for you since you haven't ridden for a while." 

 .... but I heard:

 "We're going riding tomorrow with Rancher and his kids.  I think you're too big a wimp and an amateur to actually go, so why don't you make an excuse why you can't go with us."

....which made my proud blood simmer a tad.

"No, I can go," said my over-confident voice, "how hard can it actually be?"

Ok, back to this morning....

He saddled up Cowgirl, a not-so-gentle bay roan quarter horse, with my old aussie saddle (which, like me,  hasn't been on a horse for 15 years).

It took forever since he had to find a girth strap big enough, get it tight enough, find her bridle, etc.  All the while he's mumbling under his breath and getting hot under the collar.

I said (smiling sweetly), "at least you don't have to adjust the stirrups since my legs haven't grown or shrank."  

.....No response.

Grumpy Cowboy.

Once she was ready, I put my left foot up in the air ....wow is she taller than my little 14 hand gelding of days gone by (have I mentioned it was 15 years ago?) ... pulled my jeans up at the knee just slightly,  put my foot in the stirrup, put my hand on her neck, grabbed a handful of mane, and swung my right leg over.  "There, I've still got it," I heard my pride congratulate itself.

He saddled up the horse he was going to ride...and away we all went. 

"Yes!  I knew it would all come back.  Like riding a bike!  I'm awesome!"  my pride boasted yet again.

... I was actually quite trepidatious.

The horses were excited to be riding in the cool fall morning and wanted to run.  They picked up the pace a little and Cowgirl started to trot.  

Oh no, I don't remember how to post....I miss my little gaited horse...she doesn't like me....I look like a fool....

One of Rancher's beautiful daughters rode up beside me.. "are you ok?"  she asked with tremendous compassion in her voice and on her face (or was it pity?)

"I'm fine,"  I replied with the most convincing smile I could muster...... I was mostly fine, kinda fine, sort of fine.

Then....

I admitted openly to the whole group that I was scared (I'm so transparent like that...) and could we please slow down? sorry.

They did slow down, much to the horses' chagrin. 

The men scouted out good places to put up deer stands, looking for signs of deer traffic.  Cowgirl seemed content to stand there and wait while Cowboy and Rancher stepped into the edge of the woods and beside ravines.

We mosey-ed around the edge of a ravine and crossed into a finger of the hay field.  Cowgirl  spooked at a branch lying in the path and did a little sideways dance step 

(ok...I can handle this...I can handle this....I can probably handle this...)

She walked several steps forward keeping pace with the others, started to go into a trot, rared, bucked and spun to the left (bucking bronc style)

and down I went.

Thud!!! 

I landed on my side and my head smacked the soft ground.  I thought, while I was in mid-air, that I didn't want to land on my shoulder or break a hip (since I am a grandma...though quite youthful and vibrant....yeah)....so I somehow managed to pull my shoulder forward and land on my ribcage.

Ugggh

The wind was knocked right out of me.  I pulled myself to my knees and sat there trying to regain my breath while feeling so embarrassed.  Did I break my ribs?  Can I talk?  Is anyone going to come to my aid?

Side note:  The last time I had the wind knocked out of me was maybe 40+ years ago when my little brother and I were jumping out of our swings from 20 feet in the air!

 (ok probably not that high).

Rancher's daughter jumped off of her horse (which she had been riding bare-back--insult to injury) and rushed to my side.  Putting an arm around me, "are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine...really.  I'm not hurt.  The last time I fell off a horse, I got a black eye!"

"Well, you sure know how to get bucked off with style!"

Cowgirl headed for the barn lot, turned to look back, hesitated....

and thought, "Nah, I guess I don't care"....and continued over the hill and out of sight.

Rancher said, "She thought about coming back!"

"I'll go after the horse,"  Rancher's daughter told her dad.  Her little brother loped his horse right along with her (more insult/injury).

Cowboy asked again if I was ok...his face full of concern .  I told him I was and that I was glad my feet came out of the stirrups....it would have been really humiliating to be dragged back to the barn lot by a renegade horse!

A few minutes later, Rancher's daughter rode back trailing Cowgirl and Rancher's son followed behind driving the gator.  He said, "Do you want to ride Cowgirl back or this?"  gesturing to the gator.

"Thanks, I think I'll ride back in the gator."  Might as well admit defeat, right?

Like a perfect gentleman, he offered to drive me back and I accepted.  "I saw it happen!"  He started to give me the play by play:  "She rared up and you went flying out of the saddle!  The way your head hit, I thought you snapped your neck!"

Back in the barn lot, Rancher's daughter said, "you handled yourself very well."

Yeah

I think I'll can some tomatoes.

I wonder what part of my body will hurt for the next week?

Cowgirl after the "incident."  I'm not all that great at reading body language, but I'm not seeing any remorse here.