My Cattle Drive - Installment No. 1

For a Once-in-a-Lifetime Experience
By Mark Brickman

Beware of any horse named Tank. Just the word “Tank” when used to describe a horse conjures up a frightful mental image. When the man with a deep Southern accent calls out, “Whoever has just been given Tank, come see me,” I quake in my new, soon-to-be quite used riding boots.

This is what I heard on a Sunday in November 1991 at Spanish Springs Ranch in the mountains of northeast California and about 100 miles north of Reno, Nevada, a part of the world I was not familiar with. I look back, now over a decade ago, and remember my apprehension as I drove up from San Francisco and into totally foreign territory for me, a ranch with real cowboys, lots of horses, a couple dozen strangers, and an unpainted canvas which would become known forever as my cattle drive.

So what is a cattle drive? Moving 400 head of cattle from Spanish Springs Ranch in Ravendale, California to Soldier Meadows Ranch in the Black Rock Desert of northwest Nevada, approximately 125 miles. The brochure made it clear that the trip was relaxing, fun and non-stressful. It offered the opportunity to just ride alongside the cows, or if we were of a mind to, join in and work along with the wranglers to herd the cows to their winter pastureland where the weather wouldn’t do ‘em in.

It really sounded relatively benign. I wasn’t a horseman; far from it. The brochure promised “For a Once-in-a-Lifetime Experience!” And as I look back and reminisce with some wonderful memories, but many more less than wonderful memories, I smile as I think “Yes, and I mean once!!” Only the most diehard and rugged among us would ever consider reliving that type of experience. The movie “City Slickers” with Billy Crystal in my mind seems like a fairy tale. I only wish that my experience had been just two hours with clever lines, an entertaining story line and a stirring soundtrack.

My adventure has its genesis with my friend, Sam, calling me one day around July ’91 to challenge me to go with him. Sam was and is 28 years my senior, and his lifelong dream had been to be a “Jewish cowboy!” I didn’t share his dream, but I always encouraged him to pursue his. He had always made reference to a dude ranch type of trip where one visits a working ranch in the beautiful countryside, rides the fences, puts new shoes on horses, experiences riding the range, hangs out and eats with the cowboys and would generally provide Sam with an experience that would satisfy that untapped desire that had always been burning within him. Why he had decided to pick the hardest road he could take was beyond me.

When that fateful call came with the request to join Sam on a cattle drive in November, I desperately searched my calendar hoping to discover an unknown root canal, a colonoscopy I wasn’t aware of, or any other plan that would provide me with an adequate excuse to turn Sam down. But with no such luck, my calendar was as empty as the shelf containing horseback riding awards.

To be continued…..