Saddling up at Hunewill Guest Ranch

Los Angeles Times
By Hugo Martín

Bridgeport, Calif.

My grandfather Alejandro was a real cowboy. He had leathery brown hands, a frozen squint and a faded black cowboy hat perched on his head. Back in Mexico, he milked cows, slopped pigs and rode a horse into town for supplies.

Two generations later, I’m a fully integrated part of modern city life, with soft, office-worker hands, iPod buds jammed in my ears and a cellphone clipped to my belt.

HEAD ‘EM OUT

My first taste of real cowboy work comes on mythird day at the ranch when the wranglers ask guests to help move cattle from various pastures. In the field, about 10 of us form a moving column, slowly tightening our circle around a herd of brown-and-white heifers. Without prodding, our horses close in on the cattle. A few heifers briefly rebel, refusing to yield until they come nose to nose with our advancing column.

Three hours of cowpunching and I ride back to the barn, thinking I may have what it takes to be a real cowboy. But reality sinks in when I get off my horse and waddle to my cabin to relieve my sore muscles with some ibuprofen and a chilled bottle of pale ale.

HANGING UP HIS SPURS

It’s the morning of my final day at the ranch and I’ve joined a group of riders for a few hours of loping and ditch jumping in the pastures. I’ve spent nearly a week in a saddle, and I’ve abandoned the title of “buckaroo.” Maybe I’m not a cowboy yet, but I’m certainly no tenderfoot.

Back at the ranch house that afternoon, the wranglers call for volunteers to move more cattle out of a pasture in the western end of the ranch. Not today, I say. All of this riding has taken its toll. I have an hourlong deep-tissue massage scheduled with the ranch’s in-house masseurs.

Planning your trip to Hunewill Guest Ranch

Hunewill Ranch; (760) 932-7710, www.hunewillranch.com

ShareThis