Horsing around

By Dan Leeth

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The grub is gone, the wine consumed and the fireside cowboy concert has concluded. Donning down parkas, my wife, Dianne, and I saunter from the ranch house to our log cabin. The night feels crisp, clear and dead calm. Dusk’s thin crescent moon has long since set. Overhead stretches a black velvet sky whose fabric glitters with a billion shimmering sequins. We pick out the few constellations we know, which aren’t many.

We’re spending a long weekend duding it up at Vista Verde, a guest ranch near Clark, 19 miles north of Steamboat Springs. Fronting the ranch stands a massive wooden lodge that would make the Cartwrights proud. Behind lies a line of log cabins built below an aspen-capped bluff.

“It’s quiet enough out here to hear yourself think,” says ranch manager Ben Martin. “When you get into town, it’s just a lot of noise. It’s not only hearing noise, but it’s thinking noise. You think about where you’re going to eat, what you’re going to do and how you're going to get there. We don’t have that here.”

The all-inclusive ranch can handle up to 48 dudes and dudettes in the summertime, but numbers drop in non-holiday winter weeks. During our stay, there are only six other guests, whom we join for breakfast the next morning. Sometime between juice and eggs, a ranch hand stops by to see what we want to do for the day. While my wife opts to go exploring, I decide to spend a guilt-free morning wallowing in sloth.

I brew a pot of in-room coffee, light a real wood fire in the fireplace and begin turning pages in a non-work-related book. At 11, I lay the book down and go out to greet close to 100 horses at their morning feeding.

Half the horses have already lined up by the entry gate, eagerly awaiting the ranch’s equine chuck wagon. The sleigh soon arrives covered with bales of hay. I hop on and into the pasture we ride. As the sleigh circles the steeds, we cut cords and dump lunch onto the snow. It’s gritty work, and I exit the cart with enough residue clinging to my Levis to turn me into a human haysickle. Fortunately, the horses aren’t yet ready for dessert.

That afternoon Dianne and I head over to ride a pair of those recently fed critters. Wrangler Nicky Throgmartin greets us by the corral. Instead of blue jeans and cowboy hat, she comes clad in Carhartt’s and a Peruvian-style knit chullo.

“I get cold very easily,” Nicky explains.

We head down a trail through the meadows separating ranch and river. The pace is slow and the terrain easy, making this a perfect ride for a horse-handling neophyte like myself. We turn around near the 1936-vintage Homestead Cabin, Vista Verde’s oldest structure. Nicky tells us they serve lunch here on Thursdays. The menu must include beans: The cabin outhouse bears a warning sign, “Danger. Explosives.”

After an afternoon respite, Dianne and I head back to the main lodge for happy half-hour. This daily event is held in the ranch’s Great Room, with towering windows and stone fireplace. Here we swap stories and experiences with fellow dudes.

“We’ve found that guests may come for the amenities, the activities and the food,” observes reservations director Stephanie Wilson, “but they return because of the people they’ve met.”

Pre-meal mingling completed, we head into the dining room where a staff of five prepare and serve food, beer and wine to the eight of us. The cuisine has been first-rate and filling. Breakfast choices range from simple continental to hot, plate-filling entrees. Lunches feature a salad bar, sandwich board and a menu of plate-filling entrees. Dinners include an appetizer, dessert and, of course, a choice of plate-filling entrees.

“Does anybody ever lose weight here?” I ask Stephanie.

“No,” she admits with a sly chuckle.

Our final morning, Dianne signs up for a horsemanship session in the ranch’s heated indoor arena. It’s led by professional trainer Terry Wegener, whose work gallops at every Broncos home game. Terry helped train Thunder, the horse that circles the gridiron after every Denver score, and the “Bronco Girl” riding is his wife, Annie.

“Moving on a horse is just like moving on the ground,” Terry tells Dianne. “I’ll show you that if you shift and step just like you do on the ground, the horse will go exactly where it should.”

Instead of horseshoes, I go for snowshoes and sign up for a guided walk in the woods. Since I am the only one going, I score two guides.

“If you want a fitness hike, we can go up a steep trail and get some good distance in,” says Jeff Ballantyne. “If you want good views, we’ll take you up the hill behind the ranch. If you want fresh snow and more solitude, we’ve got places for that. We’ll take any reasonable request.”

“Even if it’s unreasonable, we’ll try to do it,” chimes in his assistant, A.J. Fountain.

I choose scenery. With Jeff breaking trail and A.J. trailing behind, we start up the route. As we amble along, the pair share details of the area.

Jeff tells me that the ranch occupies Hinman Meadows, named for Frank Hinman, a 19th century trapper who operated in the area. He was after ermine, a short-tailed weasel, whose tracks we frequently see indenting the snow.

I also learn that the bark of aspen trees contains salicin, a chemical relative of aspirin. A.J. says elk mothers-to-be will gnaw the bark before giving birth, and the local Ute Indians employed it as a pain cure.

That afternoon, my cowgirl-wannabe wife heads for a second session in the horse arena. I opt to see the ranch on a pair of skinny skis. Jeff offers to be my guide, but this afternoon, I want to go solo.

My route across the meadows remains basically flat, making it perfect kick-and-glide country. The views are expansive. With the winter sun at a low angle, posts and plants cast long shadows across the grains of crystalline snow.

I cross the horse path, pass the old Homestead Cabin, ski along Hinman Creek, turn up toward Jackalope Junction, wander along willows and in through groves of naked aspen. Other than my breathing, the only sounds I hear are the zing of skis, the whisper of wind and the occasional yelp of a distant coyote.

Best of all, I have this entire spread to myself. By the time I get back to the cabin, grin lines score my face.

Dan Leeth is a freelance writer and photographer based in Aurora, Colo.

Related articles you might enjoy:

• Four Diamonds in the Rough: Colorado’s only AAA Four Diamond rated guest ranch is Lost Valley Ranch, a green oasis in an area that was formerly hit hard by the Hayman wildfire. By Tom Hess.
• Rancho de los Caballeros: A “girlfriends’ getaway” to an Arizona guest ranch brings a group of women closer through cattle penning and team roping. By Christine Loomis.
• Colorado Explorer: Colorado guest ranches in winter. By Linda DuVal.

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