 |
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
||||
 |
 |
 |
|
||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
|
||||
 |
 |
 |
|
||
 |
|
||||
 |
|||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||
| Family Travel | |||||||||||
|
Riding
Easy Tails at a Canadian Ranch
I figured that we must be nearing our destination, the Homeplace Ranch in Alberta, because suddenly four horses - large ones - appeared on the road in front. "Should I honk?" I asked my two young teens. For a few seconds, we stared until one of the horses broke rank and ambled slowly up to the window to say hello. This was a good sign. If all the horses at Mac Makenny's place were this tame, perhaps we could indeed survive our first family ranch vacation. I eased the car up to the red ranch-style bungalow bordered by a cluster of log cabin out-buildings sprouting elk horns, split rail fences and pick-up trucks. "Is this it?" I asked my kids, eyeing the sea of mud between car and front door. "Mum, it's a ranch," said 14-year-old Dustin, brightening at the sight of it. As for 12-year-old Natalie, who rode horses from time to time in Toronto, one look at the lay of the land and she was ecstatic. "These are the kind of hills you can gallop across," she informed me. I, who had not ridden a horse in 25 years? Perish the thought. My goal for the next few days was to stay upright in the saddle. And to get my kids home in one piece.
We had chosen the Homeplace because owners Mac and Jayne Makenny regularly popped kids as young as seven onto a horse and let them take ownership for a week. Their own daughter Jessie, at 10 years old, was already training her own horse. Here, horseaholics could immerse themselves in all things equine, grooming and combing fetlocks and manes to their heart's delight. And more than 50 horses offered a range of possibilities. As for greenhorns like myself? The Homeplace readily welcomed beginners and eased them into cowboy life. Which meant the inevitable-setting out into "them there hills" on a horse. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up O.K." reassured Mac, as he sat us down to lasagna, salad and strawberry shortcake, served family-style with six other guests. Then he outlined our schedule: breakfast at eight, out on the trail by nine, a picnic lunch along the way and home by four. What? No practice session in the corral first? This didn't seem to faze the kids who were busy helping themselves to milk and cookies before bed. But as we retired to our two-bedroom family suite - saloon-style doors, Indian Chief lamp and silver coyote hide tacked above the bed - I dipped into The Treasury of Western Folklore on the night table and tried not to think about runaway horses or one of my teens dangling from a tree.
After lunch, we headed up onto the ridges. One false move here and a horse could tumble down. I was glad when we arrived at open fields where cattle grazed languidly in the meadow. The scenery was beautiful but by the time we got home, my backside felt as if it had been rubbed raw. My shoulder ached from clutching the saddle horn. I could barely dismount. Thank goodness for muscle relaxers. The horses were happy though. We brushed them and rubbed them and let them loose to graze or run into the pasture. As for the riders - a glass of wine, a turkey dinner and sleep. It was only 8:45 p.m.
Details: Kate Pocock's Family Fare column appears in the Toronto Sun newspaper. She is also senior editor of Travel & More, magazine for the Air Miles program in Canada, and recently contributed to National Geographic's first family travel book, Great Family Adventures. |
|||||||||||
|
Register Free at travelteriffic.com Back to HOME PAGE Copyright © 2000 travelterrific inc. All rights reserved. Privacy Statement
|
