The City Slickers Ride Again

CITY SLICKERS COWBΟΥ ADVENTURE

RIDING, WORKING CATTLE,

SLEEPING UNDER THE STARS,

A GROUP OF URBANITES

GETS A TASTE OF A LIFE

SLOWLY FADING AWAY "Get him over, Ida. Come on! You guys against the fence, we need help; get on over here and turn him. Watch them hooves. Heave him over."

Three of us - all women rushed to the Corriente steer in the middle of a small round cattle-working pen. The red dust was so thick we could barely breathe, so at at a dead run toward the steer, I pulled my kerchief up over my nose to keep from choking.

He was laid out ahead of us on his side and held by ropes, one each around his front and back legs. The ropes had been expertly looped and placed by two cowboys

CITY SLICKERS COWBOY ADVENTURE

whose horses now stood at command, keeping the ropes held taut.

We tried to hoist over the steer so the other side of his torso was exposed, and he started kicking. His hooves were like granite sledgehammers, and one of them smashed into my left thumb. The pain was sharp, and I saw that most of my thumbnail was gone. Determined not to lose any more of myself, I gave the steer one last hefty heaveho, and he was over.

"Keep a hold of him," commanded one of the cowboys, Donny Bryson.

Ida Bryson rushed away from us to a mesquite wood fire in the pen and ran back wielding a branding iron, topped with a red-hot "B+."

It was cattle branding time during our final morning as city slickers on the Dancing Apache Ranch, one of the largest privately owned ranching properties in Arizona's Verde Valley.

Six of us greenhorns had spent three spring days on the Dancing Apache as part of the C&S Cattle Company's City Slicker Cattle Drive. In 72 hours, we rode our horses through the meadows, craggy hills, and mountains. We herded cattle,led them to water, and scoured the rocky hillsides for strays.

THREE YEARS AFTER ITS FOUNDING, CITY SLICKERS HAS WELCOMED AND SCHOOLED MORE THAN 100 COWBOY WANNABEES FROM THROUGHOUT THE U.S. AND OTHER COUNTRIES, INCLUDING SWITZERLAND, GERMANY, AND JAPAN.

The sun beat down on us, burnt our noses red, and browned the backs of our hands. We rubbed blisters into our fingers and palms perfecting the techniques of cattle roping, and we learned the hows and whys of branding.

On the softer side, we slept in tents under warm cover and a vast black sky crowded with stars; we shared our personal histories and experiences over roaring campfires, and we listened to the cowboys' tall tales. We feasted on three big meals a day, home-cooked, simple fare that never tasted so good.

C&S City Slickers is owned by husband and wife Donny and Ida Bryson in association with their ranching partner, Jack Groves of Iowa and Arizona. The ranch, with 400 head of cattle, is on 550 acres in the Verde Valley, one of Arizona's most beautiful and fertile desert grassland valleys. It is isolated by the Mogollon Rim and the Black Hills. Oak Creek bounds portions of the ranch, and the famous red buttes of Sedona are not far away.

The Brysons, native Arizonans, founded C&S City Slickers in 1992 as a direct result of the blockbuster comedy film City Slickers, starring Billy Crystal and Jack Palance. Recognizing the popularity of the legendary Great American Cowboy throughout the U.S. and the world, the Brysons decided to fold City Slickers into their routine ranch operations.

It's a perfect blend, said Ida, a former elementary schoolteacher who met her husband at a rodeo when she was 15. Greenhorns want to learn how to be cowboys, and the Brysons are noted throughout the West for running the quintessential cowboy ranch, raising rodeo and beef cattle. Lean, tall Donny Bryson, 52, has earned a reputation throughout the West for his cattle-roping skills and his ability to train roping horses.

Three years after its founding, City Slickers has welcomed and schooled more than 100 cowboy wannabees from throughout the U.S. and other countries, including Switzerland, Germany, and Japan.

"They come here and they love it," Ida said. "I think they want to experience something they believe is fading away: the life of riding, working cattle, sleeping under the stars. They see it in the movies; they read about in books, and they want to take a piece of it home with them for all time.

"It doesn't matter where they're from or how old they are," Ida added. "Whether they are four years old or 70, whether they're from New York or Munich, they have the same fantasy about being a cowboy. It really seems to be universal."

CITY SLICKERS COWBOY ADVEN

C&S offers several City Slicker packages depending on riding skills and experience levels of participants. Packages range from two and three days for the greenest of greenhorns to seven, 10, and 14 days for heartier riders. During the twoand three-day treks, city slickers use the Dancing Apache as a base camp and ride out from it each day to check on and herd cattle. During the longer treks, home really is "on the range" for participants, and their stays are concluded with full-blown rodeos that feature bull riding, calf roping, saddle-bronc riding, and team roping. Costs for the various levels range from $470 a person to $5,000.

Our group included Donna Goldsmith and Kelly Callahan, two friends from Carefree who were on a horse-riding lark away from the demands of their families; David Diamand, 26, a stockbroker from Los Angeles; his companion, 19-year-old college student Lauren Walker; and Jeff Kida, a noted outdoor photographer.

Goldsmith and Callahan were skilled riders; Diamand and Walker had marginal skills; and Kida and I well, we fit into the category of "dorks on horseback."

Our adventure began the morning of our first day as we were each ceremoniously given our own pair of leather chaps, and we stood in front of a riding arena watching several ranch hands and the Brysons' 25year-old son, Tanner, select horses to match our individual skills.

Believing my utter lack of riding skill would spare me any challenges and obtain for me a horse that was slow and small like me my eyes nearly popped out of my cowboy-hatted head when I saw the four-legged white-and-brown paint that would be my steed for the next three days. It was the biggest horse of all.

"Gee, don't you think she's a little big for me?" I asked Tanner.

"Nah. This is Cody and it's a he. Let me help you up."

"But how much does he weigh?" I persisted as I slipped my booted foot into Tanner's cupped hands and pulled up about two miles into the saddle.

"Oh, 'bout 1,200 pounds."

"That's about 10 times more than me," I muttered as Tanner adjusted my stirrups.

Yet it turned out that Cody and I got along well. He was the type of beast that didn't want to take risks or the lead on the trail. As we were heading out on our many rides each day, Cody would step aside until all the other horses were out in front on the trail. Then he'd move into his favorite position: the end. The only time he ever got excited (sort of) was when he'd fallen too far behind the pack and lost sight of the horse in front of him. I think he didn't want to be stuck alone with me. He'd break into a lazy trot until the next to last horse's rear was in view, and then he'd resume his slowpoke walk.

Cody took me to places that seemed like cowboy heaven: one was a shadowy, cool meadow along Oak Creek with dark-green, thick grass, bounded by tall wind-whispering cottonwood trees. The warm, breezy air was filled with thousands of white, gauzy seedlings from the cottonwoods, and they fell gently around us like snowflakes.

And Cody guided me through some tough spots.

On the final day, Donny and Ida led us to one of their favorite locations, the top of House Mountain. In a span of less than two hours, our horses took us through lava rock fields and dense prickly pear patches on a vertical climb of more than 2,000 feet to House's altitude of 5,127. Reaching the summit and enjoying thick sandwiches and fresh fruit, we eyed a 360-degree vista that included the stunning red rocks of Sedona, the snow-covered San Francisco Peaks at Flagstaff, small towns like Cornville and Cottonwood,

A SPECIAL PART OF THE STAY WAS WHEN WE WERE GIVEN ROPES AND ROPING LESSONS. THE LESSONS WERE FOLLOWED BY DEMONSTRATIONS BY DONNY BRYSON, THE WINNER OF MANY ROPING EVENTS IN RODEOS THROUGHOUT THE WEST.

CITY SLICKERS COWBOΥ ADVENTURE

Apache Maid Peak, and Lake Montezuma. But the descent whitened my knuckles, particularly when the trail turned into ver-tical sheet rock, and the horses slowly slipped down, trying their best to balance their passenger loads. Cody did well, no thanks to me. A special part of the stay was when we were given ropes and roping lessons. The lessons were followed by rollicking demon-strations by Donny Bryson, a former state roping champion and winner of many roping events in rodeos throughout the West. He was joined each afternoon by cowboycronies including partner Jack Groves, Rick Cozens, and Cecil Billingsley. "You ought to hear the story about ole Cecil," Cozens told Kida and me as we watched the 72-year-old Billingsley and Bryson pound full-speed into the roping arena, chasing a frantic calf. Bryson was the header, meaning his job was to rope the cow's front legs; Billingsley was the heeler, riding at the rear, targeting his rope at the back legs. Cozens' story was interrupted by a laugh-ing yell from Bryson after he'd missed his mark: "That was a FAM!"

cronies including partner Jack Groves, Rick Cozens, and Cecil Billingsley. "You ought to hear the story about ole Cecil," Cozens told Kida and me as we watched the 72-year-old Billingsley and Bryson pound full-speed into the roping arena, chasing a frantic calf. Bryson was the header, meaning his job was to rope the cow's front legs; Billingsley was the heeler, riding at the rear, targeting his rope at the back legs. Cozens' story was interrupted by a laugh-ing yell from Bryson after he'd missed his mark: "That was a FAM!"

"What's a 'FAM'?" Kida called out. "It means I flat-a--ed missed," Bryson answered. That's unusual for Bryson, Cozens tells us, breaking into another story. During one span of rodeo competition that lasted sev-eral years, Cozens said, Bryson never missed his roping target. He had a mus-tache then, and he vowed he'd shave it off when he did miss. It took four years but, finally, he missed, and the mustache imme-diately came off. Another calf burst out of the chute and Bryson and Billingsley sped out behind it, their torsos forward and their arms raised, circling their ropes above their heads. "Anyway, back to Cecil," Cozens said. "He rode so much that his legs were bowed worse than any cowboy you ever did know. Then, a couple of years back, he got an op-eration to straighten out his knees. You know what? That ole Cecil, he grew three inches taller just like that. It was just about overnight." A tale or a true story? You never know when you're talking to a cowboy because a cowboy seems to take such pleasure in pulling the legs of a city slicker. Everyone but Billingsley himself swore to the story. Billingsley, a handsome, straight-legged man who wore crisply ironed jeans, would only smile at the question and shake his head like we were all daft. Three days does not a cowboy make, but the safety-conscious Brysons, their friends, and their cajoling ranch hands did their best to give us a sense of the cowboy's life - both the hard, gritty work it takes and the great play after it's done. Thanks to them, I know how to twirl a rope above my head; I'm better at horseback riding; and I'm a couple of pounds heavier than when they met me. They took my mind away with this cow-boy fantasy vacation, and I wouldn't have changed anything but this: they shoulda let me keep my chaps. There are times when my urban spirit could use the kick they give you when you put 'em on.

Author's Note: To inquire about the C&S Cattle Company, write 351 S. El Rancho Bonito, Cornville, AZ 86325, or telephone (520) 634-1898. For more information on cowboy outfit-ters around Arizona, contact the local cham-ber of commerce and inquire about area ranches that offer city slicker roundups.

This was Phoenix-based Marilyn Taylor's second major "horse encounter" for Arizona Highways. Previously she took a five-day trail ride through Monument Valley with Don Donnelly Stables. Jeff Kida has shared other adventure assignments with Taylor, but not always as a participant.

Three DAYS DOES NOT A COWBOYΥ ΜΑΚΕ, BUT THE SAFETY-CONSCIOUS BRYSONS, THEIR FRIENDS, AND THEIR CAJOLING RANCH HANDS DID THEIR BEST TO GIVE US A SENSE OF THE COWBOY'S LIFE.