Homeplace on the Range
by Kate Pocock
Chatelaine Travel! magazine, Spring 1997

Horsing around on an Alberta ranch

Finally. After a stressful, nerve-wracking, nail-biting drive through the Friday night Calgary rush hour, on highways under construction with no signs, through a rainstorm where the wipers don't work and the map gets soaked when we roll down the window to ask for directions, we reach a highway lined with evergreen and birch and then a long gravel road that leads up over hills to a single rustic gate. "Come on in," reads the brochure affixed to the gatepost.

I've got two kids with me, 14-year-old Dustin, who had to be coaxed into this first-ever family ranch vacation, and 12-year-old Natalie, who was ecstatic from the first. She saw herself flying across the prairie, wind in her hair. I had promised my husband that we would all come back in one piece. But I hadn't been on a horse for 25 years. Once, as a teenager, I had tried to take off a horse's blanket without undoing the buckle underneath. The frightened creature tried to bash me into the sides of the stall before help arrived. Another time, given a leg up, I was sent up and over the horse, landing in the sawdust on the other side. I was afraid to walk behind a horse lest it suddenly kicked out at me with a back hoof. "And you're going to ride, too?" a friend had asked incredulously. Well, yes. If I could conquer my fears and ride, anybody could.

I aimed the car toward a line of pickup trucks parked outside a red bungalow. No luxury hotel, this arrangement looked more like a mini-Ponderosa-log-cabin outbuildings sprouting elk horns, split- rail corrals and horses and dogs running loose around the front lawn. "Is this the place?" I wondered. "Mum, it's a ranch," said Dustin, brightening at the sight of it.

We had picked the Homeplace Ranch in Priddis for several reasons. It was supposed to be an easy drive from the Calgary airport (about an hour and a half). The ranch took kids as young as seven and popped them into the saddle for week-long adventures. The ranch horses were described as gentle and well trained and the atmosphere friendly and informal. But, most of all, we had chosen the Homeplace because it was a working ranch with herds of cattle, an original 1912 homestead owned by a brawny Alberta cowboy, Mac Makenny, his wife, Jayne, and their young daughter, Jessi.

"Don't worry, we'll fix you up okay," Mac assured us. Having grown up in the Alberta guest-ranch business, Mac knew how to calm skittish horses-and riders. In fact, 30 percent of his guests arrive (from Japan, Switzerland, Germany) with little or no experience. And live to tell the tale.

After a hearty supper of lasagna, salad and strawberry shortcake, Mac set out the routine. "Breakfast is at eight. We're on the trail by about nine or nine-thirty. If it's nice, we'll pack a lunch and eat outside. We'll be back at the ranch about three or three-thirty." Six straight hours on a horse right away? What about practice sessions in the corral? What if a horse bolted with one of the kids?

But Mac preferred to talk about the magnificent country we'd be riding through, and the protected wilderness area that bordered the 300-acre (120-hectare) property in the foothills of the Rockies, full of wildlife. "What kind of wildlife?" I asked. "Don't read that," cautioned one of the six other guests, pointing to a newspaper clipping about a coyote attack near here two years ago.

Our downstairs suite was fitted up with saloon doors, an Indian-chief lamp and A Treasury of Western Folk/ore on the night table. "I can't sleep under that wolf thing," said Natalie, pointing to a large silver fur, eyes missing, tacked to the wall. "It'll give me nightmares." So I took the bed under the coyote hide and tried to ignore dreams of kids falling off galloping horses or predator animals on the attack.

Dear Dad: Today we arrived at the Homeplace Ranch. The horses look great and the food's awesome. Tomorrow we're going on a trail ride. Earlier today we saw three deer One was a baby. I think this trip's going to be really fun-Love, Natalie.

Dear Dad: The ranch is not luxurious but it's cozy-something you'd expect out in the country. Mac and Lori, the housekeeper, are really nice. The food's good. There are no other kids here now but I like the horses. It's cool how the horses standing outside look as if they're blowing steam-Love, Dustin.

Day Two

Lori clanged a large school bell to announce melon, sausages, hot cakes, eggs, bacon and home fries. During breakfast, Mac assured us that his first concern was safety, too, as much for the horses as for the riders. In fact, no one over 250 pounds is allowed to ride. Too much strain on a horse's back. We packed lunches of cold cuts, fruit and as many Nanaimo bars as the kids could stuff into a small paper bag.

An entire wall in the kitchen was plastered with photo souvenirs of riders on horses, visitors from Europe or Asia, dignitaries like Ralph Klein and former prime minister John Turner and his kids and a small, white-haired rider. "She was eighty-two years old and this was her first time on a horse," said Mac. Instantly, I felt less fearful, until he added, "Mind you, she was the coach of the Swedish national gymnastic team."

We gathered around "Woody," the practice horse, and Mac showed us how to work the reins, how to stop and, more important, how to get on and off. Having failed to get up on Woody without help (at least I didn't mount backwards as one guest did), I was assigned Easy, a big brown horse with a nice set of eyelashes, "one hundred percent predictable," Mac promised. Natalie was given a beautiful roan-colored horse called Cat; Dustin, the oldest horse on the ranch-a curly coated piebald called Showboat.

We set out in single file, Mac leading the way and wrangler John taking up the rear. The rain had muddied the path up through forests of poplar trees and alder bushes, making it slippery for the horses. As easy as Easy was supposed to be, I found it difficult to maneuver him through the thickets. If I took my eyes off the path in front or misjudged a turn, my knee smacked a tree trunk. If I didn't look ahead, a tree branch attacked my head. Just before lunchtime, we came to a steep incline and suddenly I was pitched forward, Easy racing downhill toward lunch. "Lean back," shouted Mac. "Keep your hands down and he'll do it for you." He did. And I managed to hold on. I looked back to see Natalie trotting over a stream. She grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. In the clearing, Dustin dismounted from Showboat. "Wasn't that fun?" he asked.

During the afternoon, we headed up onto the ridge and I tried not to panic. One slip here and the horse could tumble sideways. Easy was getting frustrated with my sloppy directions, tossing his head when I raised the reins without indicating where he should turn. "Let me do this," he seemed to be saying. I relaxed when we reached an open meadow dotted with grazing cattle. When we finally spotted the ranch, my spirits, and probably Easy's, too, lifted. My backside felt as if it had been rubbed raw, my knees ached, my left shoulder and elbow were permanently bent from gripping the horn, and I was more than ready for a glass of white wine, a great turkey dinner and bed. Lights out and it was only 8:45 p.m.

Dear Dad: Today we went on a 4-hour trail ride. It was fun but my thighs are a bit sore. Someone says that we went 15 kilometres and that tomorrow we'll be doing 18. Mac said that if anyone lost their reins or their hats, they would have to do the Thanksgiving dishes. I'm lucky I can't really lose my reins; they're attached-Natalie.

Dear Dad: Today, Mac took us out to the wooden horse to show us how to mount and dismount. No one had any trouble except Mum, who still couldn't mount after repeated attempts. I rode Showboat, the oldest horse, today. He went a little slow but he was good for a first-time rider All day, I kept trying to get Showboat to trot. It's more fun than a walk but a lot bumpier. Mac had showed us how to trot earlier in the day and by the end of our ride I could do it without any trouble. After we got back, we groomed the horses-Dustin.

Day Three

"Today, I want everyone to concentrate on developing quiet hands," Mac announced at breakfast. The philosophy at the Homeplace is to understand the horses, anticipate their moves and work with rather than against them. "Our natural tendency is to pull back on the horse to get control," Mac said. "But it's better to let them have their head and then they'll calm down."

Half the group rode out with John to divide cattle; we joined a Calgary family with their 12-year-old son, Chris, to head up into the pastures to check on the winter hay. I needn't have feared for the kids. Dustin, trotting along with one hand holding the reins and the other held high in the air, looked like a rodeo cowboy. Natalie waded easily through streams and tall grass. Even for me, turning Easy had become almost automatic, and I could pay attention when Mac pointed out an owl's nest, a fossil rock or a field where a guest had lost a pair of expensive emerald earrings.

In the distance, we could see the Rockies. Later, Mac guided us past the large Plains teepee set in golden fields by an aqua-colored lake, where week-long guests stayed on overnights. Suddenly, in the distance, we saw three coyotes running through the tall grass. "Can we chase them?" demanded Chris. But Mac knew the horses were ready to call it quits. When we removed their bridles and saddles and released them, they acted like kids let out of school for vacation. I felt the same way, happy that I hadn't made a complete fool of myself, and proud that, despite my aching body, I had achieved some confidence on the back of a horse. More than that, I had gained a new appreciation of the landscape, the horses and the men who looked after them. "What a beautiful sight," said Mac, as they ran off together. I was surprisingly sad to see the end of Easy.

Dear Dad: Today we went on an even longer trail. We saw three coyotes from far away. They looked like cats. We were the last people of the year to ride the horses so we rode them to their pasture and let them go. They all started rolling in the dirt before they cantered away. I had fun. It was a good vacation for kids-Natalie.

Dear Dad: Today I brought Showboat into a canter for a few seconds a couple of times. At the end of the day the horses galloped away into the sunset. 'What a sight' I'd like to do it again for a longer time-Dustin.