Published in British Columbia Magazine, Summer 2013

Urban Wrangler: A city slicker’s round-up of three dude ranches in Canada’s  Cariboo Country 

I’ve come to British Columbia’s Cariboo country to find my inner cowboy. But I’m not afraid to admit: I’m terrified.

The Cariboo, a wild, sparsely settled hinterland in Western Canada stretching from the banks of the churning Fraser River to the peaks of the Cariboo Mountains, is home to more than two dozen guest ranches. Options range from working farms to luxury retreats where more time is spent in the spa than in the saddle.

Horses, of course, are the common denominator. The daily rhythm at all self-respecting dude ranches revolves around riding – long, scenic romps through the Cariboo’s rolling  grasslands, pine and aspen forests, and granite-walled gorges. This is where things are about to get interesting for me. I’m not really a horse person. My prior experience adds up to a handful of pony rides as a kid at backyard birthday parties. But all that’s about to change.

Mounting up at Sundance Guest Ranch 
My first stop is Sundance Guest Ranch, a 1,200-acre spread with a 100-strong herd of  horses in the dry semi-desert hills above the Thompson River. Sundance started out as a  cattle ranch in 1864, around the time yellow fever hit the Cariboo and thousands of  miners streamed in hoping to strike pay dirt. The gold gave out after a few years but  ranching stuck.

“I have a custodial feeling toward the place. I don’t own it. It owns me,” explains 52-year-old Cynthia Nichols, who grew up on the ranch and now runs it with her two brothers. On a blistering hot afternoon, Nichols, who has a no-nonsense charm and bright-blue toenails, gives me the grand tour of her spread. We poke into the original 1890s ranch house, the games room with the free Ms. Pac Man and, of course, the all  important adult lounge where guests’ BYOB bevies chill in the fridge.

Out in the yard, a pretty young ranch hand in an apron is clanging away on a castiron triangle: cowboy code for chow time. A dozen fellow dudes, sunburned and dusty from a day on the trail, crowd around the buffet line for an early dinner. The fare is hardly the chuck-wagon variety. I load up on grilled sirloin with merlot reduction and Yukon Gold potatoes, then stake out a seat at the end of a long wooden table. Next to me sits Paul Brown, a lawyer from North Vancouver who’s here with his wife and two kids. 

“We were a little apprehensive at first,” Brown says, explaining that the trip was originally his daughter’s idea. “Who wants to spend a vacation on a horse?” But after three days, he’s smitten. “It gets Steven away from his iTouch, Theresa away from her texting, and me away from the laptop.” Over dessert – homemade blueberry pie with ice cream – I ask Brown if he has any advice for me before my first ride. He puts down his spoon and lowers his voice. “Listen, if that horse wants you off his back, he’s going to get you off his back. There’s not a whole lot you can do.” With that in mind, I finish my pie and head to the stables to face the music.

“The number one thing is to stay calm and confident. Fear travels down the reins,” says Bryan Golat, a 28-year-old wrangler wearing an enormous silver belt buckle and denim shirt. Golat is from outside Vancouver, a veritable city boy, but after nine seasons at the ranch he speaks with the slow, easy drawl of a lifelong cowhand. He’s just helped me onto the back of a sleepy-eyed horse nicknamed “The Husband Carrier,” a favorite among clueless hubbies whose equine-savvy wives drag them to the ranch. So far, so good. Bunched beside me in the corral are 10 other newbies, all sitting high and stiff in their saddles. While more experienced groups trot on out, we stick behind for a  little horsemanship 101 – how to steer, speed up and, most importantly, stop.

Then, suddenly, we’re off. The pace is plodding, at best: in fact, little kids are anxiously trying to trot ahead. But I find myself squeezing tighter on the reins. It’s hard to appreciate how large – enormous, really – a horse is until you’re on its back, nearly six  feet in the air astride a car-sized hunk of bone and muscle. And those squash-ball eyes  with the dainty lashes; the massive, muscled neck; all the shudders, grunts and rumblings  from that big hairy body. Let’s just say it takes some getting used to.

Fortunately, Husband Carrier proves to be true to his name. His big hooves pad  out a steady clip-clop as we slowly ascend a dusty ridge, trailed by the ranch’s resident  coon hound, who’s tagging along for the ride. On top, near a lone Ponderosa pine, the  valley opens. The broad Thompson River shimmers in the setting sun, snaking through a  treeless moonscape of canyons and furrowed hills. Golat dismounts and removes his  weathered cowboy hat, tips a bottle of water into the brim, and offers it to the panting  dog. “I love being up here,” he says, turning toward the sun in perfect cowboy  silhouette. “I’m never going back to the city.” 

Back in the saddle at Big Bar Ranch  
The next morning, I pack up and drive north along Highway 97, roughly following the route of the old Cariboo Gold Rush Trail. Semi-desert cedes to pine forests and the air feels a few degrees cooler. Outside the old wagon road town of Clinton, about an hour down a pot-holed dirt road flanked by quaking aspen and pastures full of dun-colored cattle, I find Big Bar Ranch.

The man who greets me talks in a soft growl like Clint Eastwood and squeezes  my hand with an iron grip. “I just kind of take care of the horses and keep the barn in  order,” says Bill Spoonemore, 62, Big Bar’s chief wrangler. This is an understatement.  Spoonemore has cowboyed his way across most of Western Canada and used to huntgrizzlies in the Yukon for a living. This morning, he’ll introduce me to the fine art of the  trot. 

Big Bar sits on a lonely bluff overlooking the limestone cliffs of the Marble Mountain Range. Its ranching roots run deep. In the 1930s, long after Cariboo gold had run out, Vancouver banker George Harrison transplanted his family here to work the land.  Harrison House, his little castle on the prairie (complete with room-sized fireplace) still  stands, surrounded by a few log cabins, a modest lodge, and even a pair of tipis that can  be rented out for the night. 

What sets Big Bar apart, however, is what it lacks: neighbours. Little more than wideopen  space - rolling pastures turning brown in the summer heat and dark pine forests -  stretches from the door to the distant mountains that mark the horizon. “We have nothing like this at home,” says Remco Siereveld, almost apologetically. He has travelled from the town of Aalst in Holland to spend the week at Big Bar with his wife and two  children. Their little cabin is cluttered with open suitcases and laundry drying on improvised lines. “You always see Canada in the movies – the beautiful views, you know, and you think it can’t really be like that,” he says. “But it is. It’s all over the place.” Yesterday, Siereveld took his first horse ride in 17 years. “Fantastic,” he raves, though as he walks back in the cabin he looks a wee bit stiff from the trail to me. 

For my morning ride at Big Bar, I’m paired with yet another go-getter of a horse, a 19-  year-old sorrel affectionately known as Prince Valium. As we get ready to leave the  corral, wrangler Spoonemore eyes me from beneath the big white brim of his hat and  offers a tip: “It might take a little encouragement to get him going.” I think I notice a  smile. 

We ascend through groves of fir to a knoll blanketed with the purple blooms of wild  onions. The pace is leisurely, but sure enough, Prince Valium lags behind, poking along  with his head down. I take Spoonemore’s advice and give him a few quick jabs of  encouragement with my heels. Suddenly, we’re trotting – or, more accurately, he’s  trotting and I’m bouncing – hard, fast, painfully – in the saddle. I turn to Spoonemore and  ask what I’m doing wrong. “Nothing,” he says. “Most cowboys just ride it out.” 

As luck would have it, Prince Valium is a keen trotter. By the end of the two-hour ride, I  understand what saddle sore means. Over a barbecue lunch on the ranch’s sunny back  patio, manager Nancy Harris hands me a cold beer as consolation. “There’s the romance  of riding, and then there’s the reality,” she says. A greenhorn herself, Harris recently fled  the suburbs of Vancouver for the open expanses of the Cariboo. She confides that I’m not  the first city slicker to be laid low by the dreaded trot. “Some guests find after a morning  on the trail they want nothing more than to curl up in their room, turn off the lights, and  cry,” she says, only half joking.

I shed no tears, but skip the afternoon ride. Instead, we drive to the edge of the nearby  Fraser River, where – like grizzled prospectors of yesteryear – guests can pan for gold.  But the wild, churning river is too high today, so we just sit on the banks and soak up the  scenery. Shadows climb the steep canyon walls and sagebrush turns golden in the lateday  sun. The moment calls for deep thoughts, and Harris obliges. “Places like this make  you feel how small you are in the grand scheme of things--and the true measure of  yourself at the same time,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

  
One last ride at Echo Valley Ranch

On my final day in the Cariboo, I trade cowboy boots for a pair of white fleece slippers.  Jaranya Hanoi, of Echo Valley Ranch by way of Thailand, ushers me up an elegant  stairway lined with lotus flowers and smiling Buddhas, through an elaborately carved  teak door, and onto a bed laid with handmade silk and surrounded by candles. “You ride  for a long time, especially with bad posture, and it’s natural to have tight muscles,” she  says. Hanoi slips first one of my feet, then the other, into a footbath scented with fresh  lemon. Then, it’s down to business. Knowing hands and expert elbows work out the  knots in my back, the strain in my legs, and the kink in my neck from three days on the  trail. Ninety minutes later, restored, I’m handed a tiny cup of ginger tea. Hanoi bows,  then leaves.  
Echo Valley may well be the world’s only Thai-themed dude ranch. In the shadow of the  Marble Mountains, not far from Big Bar, it rises like a small palace, complete with  pagoda roof and ornamental eaves. Clustered nearby are tidy little log cabins, a corral  with 35 horses, and a broad-timbered lodge. The unusual utopia is the vision of 69-yearold  Vancouverite Norman Dove, an eccentric engineer and inventor who retired here with  his Thai wife, Nanthawan, in 1992.  
In the intervening decades, the Doves have transformed a struggling cattle spread into  something more than a mere guest ranch. Echo Valley is a luxury hotel, with fine linens  on the beds and progressive, pan-Asian fusion on the menu. And it’s a spa, with massages  both traditional and Thai, not to mention hydrotherapy, aromatherapy, and sundry other  therapies. And, perhaps most surprising of all, Echo Valley is an organic farm.

“Here, piggies, piggies! Are you sleeping?” says Nanthawan, 50, who goes by Nan. She  has brought me to a warren of pens, coops, and greenhouses on the edge of the property.  A young pig named Humpty waddles out of the shadows, snorting. Unless fate  intervenes, he’ll be next year’s dinner. Much of what is served at Echo Valley, from the  breakfast sausages to the dinner salads, is raised or grown right on the ranch. We close  the gate and wander into a greenhouse. “Here, try this,” Nan says, handing me a piece of  fresh arugula. “Spicy, isn’t it? From Italy.” Back outside, we’re joined by four of the  ranch’s eight resident black-and-white border collies. They escort us to the chicken coop,  then the turkey coop and, finally, back to the main lodge for lunch. 

Leaving cowboy boots at the door, we make our way inside – past the odd mix of Buddha  statues and Wild West bric-a-brac – to the dining room. The lunch crowd, seated around  two large tables, is eclectic – forty-somethings on a girlfriend getaway from Vancouver, a  pair of families from England with proper little children, and two older German couples  touring the country. Plates of seared albacore tuna done rare are brought out by smiling  Thai servers. Next comes soya-ginger marinated halibut and barbecued free range  chicken. I have to resolve not to stuff myself. After all, there’s still one ride left. 

“Pairing horses and riders is definitely an art,” says Sannukka Pekkala, a 22-year-old  wrangler with long blonde hair who’s originally from Finland. “The right horse changes  everything.” It’s after lunch and we’re inside the Echo Valley corral, mounting up for the  afternoon ride. She thinks for a second, then points to a chestnut quarter horse in the  corner named Joker. 

He’s the one I’ve been waiting for. A veritable Rolls-Royce compared to my first two  horses, Joker has a smooth gait and plenty of pep in his step. Except for a tendency to  nibble on the clover growing in profusion this time of year, he’s a consummate  professional all the way. Halfway into our ride, when Pekkala asks if we want to run, I’m  ready. She races ahead, and I bring down my heels. Joker immediately accelerates  through a trot and into a graceful lope. Suddenly we’re gobbling up trail, zipping through  sun-dappled forest as his hooves beat out a steady pulse in the dirt. 

Then, for the briefest of moments, the horses break into a full-on gallop. The stride is  effortless…a horizontal glide through the landscape; winged almost. And all at once I get  it . . . that horsey high that seasoned riders know and love, a feeling of moving in  harmony with the animal beneath you.  It lasts about five seconds. We slow abruptly, stopping at a clearing – and just in time,  since one of my feet has slipped out of its stirrup. The horses are breathing heavily, ears  back and skin twitching with excitement. Later in the afternoon, when we finally ride  back into Echo Valley, sprinklers are sending arching rainbows of water over the  pastures. I hop down, give Joker a pat on the neck and lead him to the trough for a drink.  Then, I hand over my riding helmet and reluctantly slip off my cowboy boots. Out in the  pasture, a few dozen horses whinny amongst themselves, as the evening sun turns the  rocky heights of the Marble Mountains a brilliant red-orange. 

Ranch Snapshots  Sundance Guest Ranch  
www.sundanceguestranch.com  
(800)553-3533  
6 Kirkland Ranch Rd., Ashcroft  
Genuinely down-home and family-run, Sundance is located in semi-arid country high  above the Thompson River and just outside the gold rush town of Ashcroft. With more  than 100 horses and thousands of acres of rideable land, it’s a favourite among riding  enthusiasts. Yet Sundance is also geared toward families–with a pool, special meal times  just for kids, and a game room. Rooms themselves are barebones affairs but meals are  sumptuous, with extravagant buffets at dinner and barbecue lunches. Several times a  year, Sundance also hosts special themed weekends, including its popular 19+ Cowgirl  Getaways (Pin the Tail on the Wrangler, anyone?).  
Rates: One daily rate covers accommodation, meals, and two horse rides (morning and  afternoon). Adult $245; youth (15-18) $190; child (8-14) $150; child (5-7) $30.  

Big Bar Guest Ranch  
www.bigbarranch.com  
(877)655-2333  
5960 Big Bar Rd., Jesmond  
An hour-drive along a dirt road from the nearest town of Clinton, Big Bar is set in truly  isolated mountain country above the Fraser River. Guests can opt to bunk in the main  house or, better yet, reserve one of the private, self-sufficient cabins equipped with full  kitchens, woodstoves, and even sleeping lofts for the kids. Though it has a modest herd of  around 20 horses, Big Bar is nonetheless big on history and personality: Don’t miss  talking to ranch hand Charlie Coldwell, 64, one of the last two inhabitants of the tiny  nearby hamlet of Jesmond. Food is basic but passable and, in addition to horseback  riding, guests can pan for gold in the Fraser.  
Rates: A three-day all-inclusive package, which includes accommodation in a cabin, one  daily horseback ride and meals, is $628.50 for adults and $420 for children under 15.  Accommodation, meals and rides can also be purchased separately. 

Echo Valley Ranch  
www.evranch.com  
(800)253-8831  
10635 Jesmond Rd., Jesmond  
Easily the most unusual and among the most luxurious of BC’s guest ranches, Echo  Valley brings a touch of the Far East to the Wild West. A broad-timbered lodge, finely  appointed log cabins and a two-story Thai palace, which must be seen to be believed,  cluster in a gorgeous mountain valley near the Fraser River. Mornings spent riding are  complemented by afternoon massages (both Thai and Western) in the ranch’s two spas.  Meals range from lavish barbecues to Thai banquets (many ingredients are grown or  raised right on the ranch), while rooms are luxe-rustic, with timber walls, Egyptian cotton  sheets and Thai silk accents. Nor does Echo Valley skimp on dude ranch essentials,  offering everything from riding lessons to campfire sing-alongs complete with s’mores.  
Rates: The all-inclusive package, which includes accommodation, meals and a horse ride  or spa credit, starts at $450 per person per day. 

Field Notes

How to Get There:  Flying: From Vancouver, Air Canada and West Jet offer flights to Kamloops, which  take around an hour. Cache Creek, a main gateway into the South Cariboo, is about an  hour drive from Kamloops along the Trans-Canada Highway. 

Driving: Cache Creek is a roughly five-hour drive from Vancouver, along either  Highways 1 or 99. From there, the Cariboo Highway, a section of Highway 97 that  approximates the old Cariboo Wagon Road, slices through the heart of the region,  continuing north through Clinton and 100 Mile House all the way to Prince George. 

When to Go: June-August is high season for dude ranches in the South Cariboo. Better  rates and milder temperatures can be had in the April-May and September-October  shoulder seasons. Many ranches close down during the winter. 

What to Bring: Most ranches supply cowboy boots and riding helmets, but bringing a  good pair of jeans is critical for comfortable riding. Sunscreen and a wide-brimmed hat  are also essential in the Cariboo summer heat.

Horsing Around: Ranches have horses suitable for all skill levels – even absolute  beginners – and a good wrangler will be sure to pair you with the right one. While many  ranches offer twice-daily rides, generally in two-hour stints, newbies may want to limit  riding to once a day (Four hours in the saddle can feel like an eternity if you’re not used  to it).  Keeping with cowboy custom, horses in the Cariboo are generally trained for Westernstyle  riding. This means the saddle is larger and more comfortable than in formal  English-style riding. And reins are held in one hand, rather than two – leaving a free  hand for lassoing or, more likely, snapping photos.

Chuck Wagon: Chow time is a fixture of the dude ranch experience. Meals, which are  buffet-style or pass-the-plate affairs, are generally eaten communally at large tables,  where you get to know your fellow dudes and trade slightly embellished stories about the  day’s rides. At some ranches, such as Sundance, children eat at separate tables, giving  grown-ups a chance for some adult repartee.

More Information: BC Guest Ranches has comprehensive information on 15 member  ranches scattered throughout the Cariboo and the rest of British Columbia:  www.bcguestranches.com.  
Tourism BC offers a concise overview of guest ranches throughout the province:  www.hellobc.com/en-  CA/SightsActivitiesEvents/AirLandActivities/GuestDudeRanches/BritishColumbia.htm.  
For background on the culture and history of the Cariboo, plus information on  accommodation and things to do, consult the official Cariboo Chilcotin Coast website:  http://www.hellobc.com/en-CA/RegionsCities/CaribooChilcotinCoast.htm.