My First Day as a Wrangler

When I imagined my duties as a wrangler, I visualized a romantic image of a cowgirl wearing her dusty jeans and riding happily across the range to tend to her herd of horses.  She fed the horses, groomed, saddled, cleaned tack, cared for their feet and so on and so forth. Little did I know what the reality was actually going to be like.

My first encounter with the two senior guides who were leading the charge into camp was less than reassuring. They could hardly conjure up a smile let alone say hello.  The loading of the horses began into a huge truck.  As soon as they were all accounted for we threw our tack and personal belongings into the back of the rig which was just one huge pool of horse shit. As my bed roll was not protected, my sleeping bag and therma-rest became victim and of course by the end of the bumpy three hour ride were completely drenched at the bottom of the heap. I cried a silent tear to myself. We were off to a great start.

We finally reached the trailhead and unloaded the horses. Each one was soaked in sweat and had worked up a lather from such a crowded and stressful ride. The driver's departing words were, "looks like rain." "Thanks buddy", I thought to myself. So the packing began with a motley crew who were definitely wondering what the heck I was doing there. Oh boy, this should be fun. The pressure was on to show em what I had and my first impression of attempting to lift a 60lb pack box full of oats onto one side of a horse gave the female guide reason to roll her eyes, smirk and do the job herself. No leadership or motivation came from her, just impatience, frustration and the silent treatment. I kept trying to help, watch how she tied her tail knots and assist with the diamonds but all my efforts were to no avail. She did not care for my help and considered me to be an inexperienced nuisance.

I was definitely not used to this type of treatment and was at a loss for what to do. She appointed me an asshole of a saddlehorse so I decided to stick to myself for the time being and do my best to get ready for the journey which was already starting off on the wrong foot.

We tied the horses into mini-strings of 5, 6 and 7 and were off around 4pm with myself and my crew of horses bringing up the rear. "OK at last I can relax", I thought ... except now my saddle horse just wanted to be right up the ass of the horse in front of him and ... oh great, that horse is a kicker and the pack horse that I'm towing, well he just wants to lag behind.  Who knew I was in for four days of tug of war with these two huge beasts. I had to keep drawing each of my arms into the centre of my torso for fear of having my shoulders ripped out of their sockets from the continual pressure of the two horses pushing and pulling in opposite directions.  I kept reminding myself to mimic the biomechanics and mindset of Warrior 2 to try and stay protected and centred.

Since we were off to such a late start, we didn't make it to the cabins which typically would have been the first stop on day one of this particular trail ride.  As it neared dark, we pitched camp by a creek and hoisted a blue tarp with a diamond rope from the trees to create a shelter. Now sleeping in the open air under a tarp with three strangers and a bunch of horses, well ... that was a first.

The fire and dinner were a welcome relief. The other young wrangler and I oated the horses which we tied to trees for the night. I was totally exhausted and made my shit-smelling bed as far from my arch nemesis as possible. 5:30 am came soooo early. I rolled over with the rain seeping into my side and a horse's ass about a foot away from my face.  A new day was about to begin ...