Just before dawn; hushed and dark on the ranch. Shaking off a fitful night’s sleep, Robyn and I arise to get ready for an O-Dark-Thirty breakfast. Both of us are excited and anxious about the day’s adventure and neither of us slept very well in anticipation.
The day before while riding, I had asked Mark if one day we could ride up into the high country. He didn’t have to think long about it before saying we could take a ride up to Proposal Point. He asked another of the dudettes who has been coming to the T Cross for 25 years if she was up for a ride beyond Twilight Falls. At the time, I had no clue where these places were, or how far away they might be. I only knew it sounded like an adventure!!
That afternoon, Mark’s great friend Guy showed me on a map where we were headed. Even on the map, it looked to be a “fer piece”. He then regaled me with a story of the time he had ridden there and the wind was blowing so hard, it almost knocked them off the edge of a cliff! Gulp. He also noted how wild and beautiful that country was, and so, despite the slight fear he managed to implant in my head, I knew I had to see if for myself. At dinner that night, Mark said we’d leave in the morning before first light. Robyn looked at me and asked what I had “voluntold” her for now. “A great adventure!” I replied confidently.
Now, as noted in last week’s post, Proposal Point is a special, really a sacred place where Mark proposed to Gretchen. They take a ride up there every July 30 to celebrate the date they took the leap of faith together. Unfortunately, Mark had been injured the year before, and they hadn’t been able to go then, nor this year. So this would be the first time Mark had been back for a couple of years; and even though Gretchen had returned to Utah to get the kids in school, I think he was looking forward to the trip as well. I was really happy at the thought of seeing where the great event took place!
Even though it was the end of August, it was a chilly morning. Robyn and I had both donned multiple layers of shirts along with our jackets. It was just past 6 a.m. when we rode out. So quiet and still; all you could hear was the horses breathing, the creak of the saddle leather and the soft sounds of hoof beats on the trail. We rode through familiar territory up to Carson Lake, and then it was all new to me and Robyn from there on out. As we rode, the chill set in, but none of us said “boo” about it. To mention it would make it real, and none of us three girls would ever let on to Mark that we were in any way, shape or form “soft”.
After a couple of hours riding, the sun finally crested the mountain ridge and we rode into a sunlight filled meadow. The sun felt so glorious on our faces and shoulders. We stopped to take a short break and do a little solar soaking. Mark asked if we were cold, and we all kind of looked at each other; then he said he had been wishing he’d brought a heavier coat. We all sighed in relief and admitted to various frozen body parts and that the sun felt really, really good!
Climbing in elevation, we rode until we entered a wide basin. Looking back at where we’d come from, the views were simply stunning. It defied photography with my dinky digital camera. Such a feeling of spirituality came over me. None of us were talking much…we were spellbound by the grandeur of this place. On up through the basin we continued and as we began to climb up out of the far end, the wind picked up.
Above timberline now, the horses worked at getting to the top of the ridge. Sometimes the wind gusted so hard it took your breath away. I’m happy to say we all managed to hang onto our hats; although Mark periodically had to take his off to do so. (He’s a cowboy’s cowboy…no stampede strings allowed!)
As we topped the ridge, we stopped to let the horses breathe and saw a small group of Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep. Ewes and this year’s lambs were grazing down below us on the tundra. A little further up we spotted another small herd. Seeing these shy and elusive animals in their special part of the world was thrilling. I could not wipe the smile off of my face. (Also, my lips were somewhat frozen into place!) Mark took some video, and you can tell he was excited too!
We left the sheep behind, and climbed another short distance up through some remaining snow to Proposal Point. This is the top of the world at 11,636 feet altitude. From here you can see the tips of the Tetons, Yellowstone, the Wind River Range, the Absaroka Range the Gros Ventre range…I actually think you can see all the way to Canada from here but smoke from some wildfires clouded the distant view. To say it was spectacular is simply an understatement. To think of it now brings tears to my eyes. Mark noted that very few people had ever been to this spot, and I felt really honored to have been given the opportunity to see this place.
The wind was blowing at a pretty stiff pace there, and Mark declared this is where we would eat our lunch. We looked at him somewhat skeptically; but, again, never wanting to appear soft in front of Mark, we all dismounted and dug our lunches out of our saddlebags. We had the horses form a sort of wind break in a semi-circle in front of us, and pulled up a piece of ground.
As we ate, we contemplated the ride back. I noted that I had worn my T Cross ear rings in case something should happen to us; when they found the bodies, they would at least have a clue as to where we were from. Mark thought about it and noted he hadn’t brought his wallet or any identification with him. Glad I had us covered. As we rooted around in our lunch sacks that the cook had packed for us, he found a muffin. Holding it up as he looked at it curiously, I remarked that it was for tomorrow’s breakfast. Robyn thought that was a good idea, and proceeded to carefully wrap her left overs “just in case”. That’s how far away from the ranch this felt to us. And I reckon it is.
We made the long ride back enjoying views that had been behind us on the way up. We were all quiet, and Idaho and I drifted back quite a ways. Mark asked if she was getting tired and did I want to trade her in. Not on a bet. I told him we were just “in a zone”. Nearly 11 and half hours later, we rode into the ranch just before supper. We were all so proud of ourselves for having made it in one piece, and still able to walk, albeit a bit more slowly. Tired butts and happy hearts. It’s a day I will never forget on the T Cross. Thank you, Mark!
Seeing as how Valentine’s Day is coming up in a few days, I thought this was the appropriate time to share with y’all a beautiful love story. The characters include a lovely, independent, horsewoman born and raised in Wyoming; a ruggedly handsome cowboy more at home on a horse in the wilderness than in a town; a set of protective parents belonging to the lovely young girl and numerous supporting cast. The setting for our story is none other than the T Cross Ranch.
Gretchen Neal was a woman of the world, and of great interest to more than one young man. Each summer she would return to the T Cross to learn the ropes of the Dude Ranch business from her folks, Ken and Garey Neal. She was a good hand; no man could out wrangle her. She knew her way around the wilds surrounding the ranch and could apply her expertise to any task, be it horse training, fence building or running a pack string.
Mark Cardall was a man who reveled in the freedom of the Wyoming wilderness. Born in Utah, raised in ranch life, he was an exceptional teamster who ran pack trips all over the Yellowstone and Wind River Basin primarily taking hunters into remote areas in search of various trophy game. Not one to be tied down, he found his joy in a good horse and an occasional good dog. It is also noted that his hunting forays extended to the two-legged female and he dated hundreds of women as he adventured about the territory.
Now, as happens sometimes, there was a mutual friend of these two named Pia who could not believe that two such beautiful people would find themselves still unattached and wandering through life alone as they advanced in age through their 30’s. Pia just knew that Mark and Gretchen were made for each other. But, she also knew that neither would be interested in an outright matchmaking attempt.
As luck would have it, a dinner event provided the opportunity Pia had been seeking to nonchalantly introduce the two. She did, and absolutely nothing happened. Gretchen thought he was cute, but that was the extent of it. Gretchen doesn’t go by “pretty” in horses or men. It’s what they are made of, and what’s in their eyes that counts.
As it happened, though, Gretchen was in need of another wrangler that summer. The Neal’s were beginning to desire more time to enjoy the ranch and not have to work so hard, and more of the day to day responsibility for running T Cross fell on Gretchen’s shoulders. Gretchen put the word out of her need for a good hand. Pia latched onto this and made the pitch to Mark. The perfect job, good pay, nice people, beautiful location. And besides, remember Gretchen? From the dinner?
Mark of course, doubted this was up his alley. He knew nothing about dude ranches or managing a dude ranch or dealing with dudes for that matter. But Pia was so insistent; he decided it wouldn’t hurt to check it out and he did remember Gretchen. She was among the few available lasses in the tri-state region whom he hadn’t yet dated! He arrived at the ranch in May nearly 11 years ago and liked the lay of the land. He decided he’d make a go of it for the summer and then decide if it was the right career move.
Mark took to the work and Gretchen began to appreciate his work ethic and knowledge; she felt comfortable letting him take on some of her load. She also noted with interest all of the women who came out of the woodwork when they found out Mark was working in one spot and was accessible. She was beginning to admire him herself, but this was ridiculous!
So what finally got Mark to focus on the lovely Miss Neal? Gretchen had taken a pack string up to the high country. Like something out of a movie, Mark was riding out through the meadow that lies in front of the ranch and he spotted Gretchen leading her pack string coming down the opposite direction. And that, he says, is when the sparks started to fly. Picture the lovely Gretchen, long dark hair blowing in the wind, looking beautiful and capable as she made her way back to the ranch.
The twosome soon discovered how much they had in common, and how well they complemented one another. Plus, when Mark found out that Gretchen was the Wyoming State Pig Wrestling Champion, it was pretty much all over for him. Still, he was conflicted; struggling with his feelings for Gretchen and his desire to remain free of life’s clutter. The dude ranch life was far removed from his true passion of leading trophy hunt pack trips. Gretchen too was at a crossroads being sort of committed to a very well off fella who stood to inherit an even larger fortune. Plus he was European, and considered very exotic by Wyoming standards.
As the story goes, Mark was on an overnight pack trip sans Gretchen. Around the campfire, he wondered out loud whether or not he had it in himself to settle down and make a good husband. Casey, one of the wranglers and a good friend asked Mark about his current dog, and how long had he had that dog? Mark had not had the best of luck with canine companions; usually they met their demise before a year was out. Mark contemplated this and said he’d had the dog over a year now. Casey opined that this was a record, and a sure sign that Mark was in fact ready for a long term relationship.
Exactly 60 days from when Mark arrived at the ranch, he and Gretchen took some folks on a trail ride to an area known as Upper Twilight on July 30, 2001. This is a long ride; it’s about 5.5 hours up and 5.5 hours back down.
At the pinnacle of upper Twilight there is an altitude marker posting an elevation of 11,636 feet. Now whether it was lack of oxygen, altitude delirium, love, or a combination of the three, Mark proposed marriage to Miss Gretchen, and she said “Yes”!
It’s a darn good thing too, because it would have been a long, hard ride back to the ranch if she’d said “Don’t think so”.
As Gretchen tells it, she had to make a choice. Two beautiful children later, a ranch in Utah, a dude ranch in Wyoming and a partner that makes her laugh every day; I’d say she chose right. Mark says it was the best loop he ever threw.
And the best part of it all is, when you come to the T Cross, you get to bask in the glow of this wonderful couple who always make you feel a part of their family.
Now the maps still show the area as Upper Twilight; but around the T Cross, this spectacular and historic spot is known as Proposal Point. This is without a doubt, one of the great love stories of all time. I wonder who will play them in the movie?
Happy Valentine’s Day to all and here’s hoping love crosses your trail!
Who doesn’t love a cowboy singing and strumming his guitar? Well, OK, maybe not everybody, but when you’re inWyoming, on the T-Cross, it fits, and is a simply perfect way to spend an evening with new friends!
Every Monday night, Dick Fredrickson serenades you while you dine on yet another fabulous meal created by the T-Cross chefs. After dessert, everybody retires to the Ranch Room, a fire is lit in the big fireplace, and you relax on the buffalo-robed sofa to hear some more wonderful music which tell the stories of the West. Dick is multi-talented and plays both guitar and banjo! He sings purdy too, and although he has yet to be able to sing hardly any of my requests, one song he always does goes straight to my heart. In fact, I never get to the end of the song without getting all teary eyed, and whenever I hear the song when I’m somewhere other than Wyoming on the T Cross, it surely does make me homesick for the ranch.
The song was written by Kent Lewis and the lyrics are below; but, you really need to come to the T Cross and hear it sung by Dick to get the full impact. Once you hear it, it will tug at your heart, bring you fond memories of your days and nights at the T Cross and you’ll wish you were there again.
Well I’m weary and tired, I’ve done my days ridin’
Nighttime is rollin’ my way
The sky’s all on fire and the light’s slowly fading
Peaceful and still ends the day
Out on the trail night birds are callin’
Singin’ their wild melody
Down in the canyon cottonwood whispers
A Song of Wyoming for me
Well, I’ve wandered around the town and the city
Tried to figure the how and the why
Well, I’ve stopped all my schemin’
I’m just drift’n and dream’n
Watching the river roll by
Here comes that big ole prairie moon risin’
Shinin’ down bright as can be
Up on the hill there’s a coyote singin’
A Song of Wyoming for me
Now it’s whiskey and tobacco and bitter black coffee
A lonesome old doggie am I
But wakin’ up on the range
Lord I feel like an angel
Free like I almost could fly
Drift like a cloud out over the badlands
Sing like a bird in the tree
The wind in the sage sounds like heaven singin’
A Song of Wyoming for me
A Song of Wyoming for me
Words and music by Kent Lewis
Thanks to Awesome Wrangler/Photographer Kel, and fellow dude Tedd Kidd for the photos!
Each Thursday is gymkhana day at the T-Cross. Gymkhana’s are games on horseback, and are really a lot of fun! It’s a great way to demonstrate the bond you’ve formed with your horse and how much horsemanship you’ve developed over the course of the week (or years) at the ranch! So, one might wonder, what the heck does a shovel race have to do with any of that? I think I have figured it out.
For those of you who haven’t yet been to the T-Cross, or who may have opted out of the gymkhana during your visit, the shovel race involves the guest sitting on a big scoop shovel (not previously used for manure…I checked) which is tied using a lariat on the handle end and then goes to the wrangler who is horseback. The wrangler takes a dally on the rope (wraps it around the saddle horn once) and takes off pulling you, the un-witting dude, across the arena and back. If there is more than one un-witting dude, then the race is on
I had never participated in a shovel race, but my travel buddy Robyn, who happens to be very competitive, was all about it. All she needs to hear is the word “race” and then it doesn’t really matter what the event is, she’s in it to win it!! I had wanted to opt out and just cheer her on, but then she called me “chicken” so all bets were off.
Admittedly, when we first started, I actually thought it felt kind of good. You’ve been sitting in a saddle all week, so sitting on a shovel is a nice change of pace. And, when they first drag you around they go slow, and the feeling is pretty relaxing, almost soothing on those tired butt muscles. But, as was the case during my visit, there were 3 un-witting dudes, so we had to race.
As it turns out, the wranglers are very competitive, and at some point, they lose sight of the fact they are dragging an un-witting dude. So any care about how much dirt is being kicked up, or how big a rut you are making, or how short they are turning the corner at the end of the arena gets lost in the excitement of winning the race!
In addition to the competitive edge, it dawned on me that this is also how the wranglers get their jollies after several days of dealing with un-witting dudes. So, the retrieval of blown off hats, tightening cinches, adjusting stirrups and answering a thousand questions about mountain peaks, flowers, rocks and wildlife facts get compensated by participating in one morning’s event during which the un-witting dude gets their mouth, eyes, nose, and ears filled with dirt!! I was digging dirt out of my ears for two days afterwards. I don’t even want to think about how much arena dirt I ingested just trying to clean my teeth off!
But, I will also say this; during the shovel race (which Robyn won by the way) I was so busy concentrating on keeping my mouth closed, breathing, keeping my feet up, and hanging on around the corner that never once did work cross my mind. Not once. So in the end, both wrangler, and this un-witting dude came away very satisfied. And the pictures?
I love horses. One could say that I am besotted with them. There is nothing I don’t love about them; I think they are one of God’s most perfect creatures. I own three, (or they own me) and I am frequently questioned about how expensive they must be to keep. I always explain that whatever I spend is still cheaper than the therapist I would need if I didn’t have them!
One might think that since I have my own horses, I would want to do something different for a vacation. The thing is, my travel adventure buddy Robyn is similarly besotted by horses, so when planning an adventure, it just comes naturally to plan one that includes them!
The T-Cross has a really fine remuda of around 60 head; you can read about them on the web page! When you go to the ranch, Gretchen and Mark try to get a basic idea about your level of horsemanship, and then assign you what they believe will be a compatible mount.
Monday morning is filled with anticipation and excitement because you will be meeting your horse for the first time! On my first trip to the T-Cross I could hardly sleep Sunday night because I couldn’t wait to see what horse I would be riding! Would it be pretty, would it be a mare or a gelding, would it be tall, would it be sweet, would it be fast? What would its name be? Needless to say Robyn and I were first to the corral that morning!
And there, waiting patiently was Idaho. She is a compact Quarter Horse mare, liver chestnut in color with two hind stockings and a wide blaze on her face. Very, very cute! I then looked into her dark, kind eyes and it was love at first sight! Now, I know that many people requestIdaho, and that she is a very popular horse. But make no mistake, she is mine. I tell Gretchen and Mark that I will allow them to put other people on her as long as they are kind to her. She is my little girl. Mark and Gretchen make sure she gets a break before I come so she is well rested and ready to go adventuring with me!
Odd you may think that a person would form such a bond with a creature in a week or so? Idahoand I have a “thing”. In the mornings I brush her and comb out her mane and tail with conditioner. This has prompted more than one astonished look from the wranglers. Then, I coach the wranglers on how to put on her bridle and tie the lead around her neck with out making her mane stand on end and causing it to get rubbed out. It doesn’t take more than one caution on my part to get the wranglers to take a little more care with myIdaho. I go through the same routine in the evenings before she is turned out. By the end of the week, she is, without a doubt, the prettiest horse in the bunch!
Idaho and I have had many adventures on the T-Cross. She always takes good care of me, even when I occasionally do something stupid. And yes, even though I am very experienced, things do happen. That’s a story for another time. Idahoknows when I want to walk out and be near the front so I can pummel the lead wrangler with questions. She also understands when I just want to poke along way at the back so I can fully take in the entire splendor of the surroundings. If we hang back far enough, it’s almost like we’re by ourselves…just me and Idaho.
Of course I feed her horse cookies that we bring with us each year. She soon recalls that when she hears a plastic sack rattle that a sweet treat is soon to be hers! The only drawback to forming such a close bond withIdahois that it breaks my heart when the week is over and I must leave her behind. I hug her, cry into her now perfect mane and say goodbye until next summer.
When you come to T-Cross, I encourage you to take time to get to know your horse, and realize what a patient and wonderful friend you have been provided. One that is willing to cart you uphill and down, across creeks and rivers, with never a complaint about cold, or heat, or bugs or the level of your skill. You, too, may form a special bond that will make your vacation all that more wonderful. And, if you are lucky enough to get to ride my littleIdaho; be kind to her, take care of her mane, (even if it means annoying the wranglers) and remember she loves horse cookies!
Check out this video by Kel set to Michael Martin Murphy music. It proves that I am not the only sappy one on the T Cross!
it real, and none of us three girls would ever let on to Mark that we were in any way, shape or form “soft”.
Above timberline now, the horses worked at getting to the top of the ridge. Sometimes the wind gusted so hard it took your breath away. I’m happy to say we all managed to hang onto our hats; although Mark periodically had to take his off to do so. (He’s a cowboy’s cowboy…no stampede strings allowed!)
We made the long ride back enjoying views that had been behind us on the way up. We were all quiet, and Idaho and I drifted back quite a ways. Mark asked if she was getting tired and did I want to trade her in. Not on a bet. I told him we were just “in a zone”. Nearly 11 and half hours later, we rode into the ranch just before supper. We were all so proud of ourselves for having made it in one piece, and still able to walk, albeit a bit more slowly. Tired butts and happy hearts. It’s a day I will never forget on the T Cross. Thank you, Mark!
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