Bio: Dude, 1978. Descriptor: My 10 year old son as a ‘Junior Wrangler,’ cold morning cabins, valued family style meals and the glacier-blue water of Phelps Lake.
Patricia’s Story: I took my ten-year-old son to the White Grass Ranch in May of 1978. Then, the site was still a working horse ranch as well as a dude ranch. As a “junior wrangler,” my son fell in love with all things cowboy. The most unforgettable character there was “Curly,” who knew everything about horses and tack. We arrived in Jackson Hole after dark. It was a cold evening, and the owners picked us up, taking us to their beautifully rustic cabin for a drink before depositing us in our small cabin. We woke in the morning to the sound of bells. Looking out the window, we saw horses trotting in an adjacent meadow. Every day they were released to the woods. The bells allowed the real wranglers to keep tabs on each of them. Each cabin had its own little pot-bellied stove. I recall the bucket of wood shavings that we used as kindling beside our stove. They smelled of turpentine, like littern, or “fat wood.” The cabins were so cold those early spring mornings that the heat from the stove was welcome. We always looked forward to the family-style meals, especially after coming in from long rides, like the one to gorgeous Phelps Lake, with its freezing, glacier-blue water. I still treasure those memories, as does my son to whom I gave the photos from our western adventure.