Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, March 6, 1994 TAG: 9403080009
SECTION: TRAVEL PAGE: F8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: PAT GERBER LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: ASHCROFT, BRITISH COLUMBIA LENGTH: Long
But Butch Cassidy never made it this far north. Lots of kids have, however. And instead of saying ``Howdy!'' the wranglers say, ``Eh?''
The Sundance Guest Ranch in British Columbia is nestled at 1,700 feet in the layers of a coastal mountain range, about a four-hour drive northeast of Vancouver. This is Big Sky Country, Canadian-style. Bordered by the thundering Thompson River and its miles of rapids, the ranch covers 22,000 acres of pine forests and irrigated mountain meadows that provide lush relief from the surrounding sagebrush hills.
My husband and I came here on a summer vacation last year in search of a laid-back ranch rest where our children, then ages 6 and 2, could kick up their heels while we treated our horse fever.
During our four-day stay, we enjoyed hearty meals and engaging dinner conversation with a cosmopolitan assortment of guests. And we experienced some of the most heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping rides this side of the Oklahoma Land Rush.
One of 13 guest ranches in British Columbia, the Sundance can accommodate up to 75 people. It's relatively close to Vancouver, a five-minute drive from the sleepy village of Ashcroft, and doesn't have that tony resort atmosphere that seemed to be implied in other guest ranch brochures that we consulted. What appealed to us was the authentic Western look and feel. Buffalo heads and Indian blankets adorn the main dining hall. Wooden floors creak when trod upon, pole-rail fences keep livestock from roaming too far, and an old wagon wheel graces the main yard.
This is a family-oriented ranch, which is evident even in the rate structure and another reason why we picked this place: The $105 daily adult fee, based on double occupancy, includes all meals, which are substantial; riding; accommodations; and use of all ranch facilities, including the swimming pool and tennis courts. The daily charge for youths 15 to 18 years old is $90; it's $75 for children 8 to 14 years old. Children under 8 are $8. And children can stay in either their parents' room or the ranch house's special kids' wing.
The ranch is stocked mainly with quarter horses, which owner Stan Rowe chooses; he replenishes the herd yearly. And he does his best to provide what the brochure calls ``the Western experience deluxe,'' from the herd of buffalo to staging a square dance every Saturday night.
The day starts early at Sundance, with a sunrise wake-up call from the barn swallows that swoop through the rafters of the guest wings. A full-scale breakfast of eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausages and cereal served in the dining room by a full-time chef fortifies us for the 9:30 ride, one of two held each day, seven days a week, rain or shine.
Guests gather in the main corral near the stables, situated in front of the guest rooms for a succinct briefing from the silver-haired Rowe on the do's and don'ts of horsemanship, followed by the pairing up of mounts and riders. Our toddler stays behind with other children too young to ride, who are cared for by baby sitters.
The mount-rider matchmaking is prearranged: Before getting close to a horse, guests fill out a height-and-weight form and a brief description of riding experience. This ensures that an overeager Joe Greenhorn doesn't inadvertently get paired up with, say, Widowmaker.
I'm assigned Sandy, an athletic, stocky little roan gelding who, I am warned, can take off like a bullet.
We start out at an easy jog-walk - a blessing to muscles unused to a horse's back - through a wide meadow that climbs into dusty foothills.
I discover that most of my fellow riders are enthusiastic veterans of past vacations here. One young woman in her mid-20s has been coming here since she was 7. An accountant from Vancouver Island is vacationing here with her preteen daughter and two of their friends. A Vancouver trucking company executive in his 40s says he feels the weight of the world slip off his shoulders when he drives through the main gate.
We've been riding for about 20 minutes when we come to a clearing, and wrangler Dave Ens, one of two shepherding us along on the trail, gathers the group of 10 riders into a small circle. ``OK, who wants to go for a run?'' he asks, smiling broadly. Most nod eagerly. I hesitate, figure ``what the heck,'' tug my baseball cap down tight and say, ``Sure.''
Dave lines the horses up in order of antsiness. Some, mine included, prance in anticipation of the run to come. Dave orders me to the front of the line. I'm part relieved, part terrified. Relieved because I know I can't hold 1,200 pounds of coiled muscle and sinew in check for much longer. Terrified because it's times like these that I always remember this warning from an old riding teacher: A horse is an accident waiting to happen.
As I gather up Sandy's reins and jockey for takeoff, Dave leans over his saddle horn. ``Remember, Sandy likes to run,'' he says calmly, smiling ever so slightly.
Sandy quickly breaks from a brisk trot to a lope. Reins in one hand, hunk of mane in the other, I can almost feel his hoofs pounding into the earth, hear rocks kicked up in his wake, catch glimpses of low-hanging pine branches. There's no way to stop it, so you might just as well hang on tight and have fun.
Which is what I do. Sandy stretches into a flat-out gallop in a wide part of the trail, as familiar with the route as he is with his stall. At a sharp turn, I can feel him collect his balance as he swerves around a cluster of huge rocks exposed by a recent rain. Sandy sees the wrangler and his mount standing calmly in the clearing before I do, and puts on the brakes.
What may have felt like a wild ride to me, however, was actually very much under control - for the wrangler stationed at the end of this quarter-mile dash through the woods is insurance that no one gets caught up in the thrill of the run and winds up in Toronto.
Dinner consists of hearty fare to which creative flair has been applied by a competent chef: We start with a consomme, followed by medallions of pork, baby carrots, new potatoes, a salad and homemade rolls, all washed down with Canadian wine.
Conversation flows as readily as the wine as couples from Switzerland, Quebec and Belgium discuss in German, French and English everything from the day's ride to politics to horses. By the time the raspberry torte arrives, we're ready to lean back, sip coffee and watch the sun set behind the mountains.
by CNB