They Call the Thing a Rodeo
Sometimes, a little recreation is in order. And what better country-toned activity than to pack up the car and head to the rodeo?!
I don’t live in the country anymore, so every chance I get, I run back and dive in head first. When my dad told me he was planning to take my mom and aunt to the rodeo for a night out, my fiancee and I jumped at the opportunity.
We decided not to tell them we were coming, opting for the surprise instead. So, we threw on our blue jeans, hopped in the car and headed toward Pond Hill Ranch in Castleton, Vt.
An Adventure in the Making
The trip itself wasn’t without it’s own adventure. We weaved our way through several little country towns, just enjoying the views. But then things took a little turn, literally!
We got about 15 minutes from the ranch when we came across a big “ROAD CLOSED” sign, apparently the bridge was out.
With no detour in sight, we turned left,and then right…and maybe left again. It was about this time our GPS decided it couldn’t keep up so it decided to quit on us.
We still had a little time so we chose to stay the course and see where it took us, and the adventure was well worth it.. We got ourselves lost in the country just as the sun began to set and the views were breathtaking!
The Road to the Ranch
After miles of thick woods and eroded, single-lane dirt roads, we were still unsure if we were even going in the right direction. But then, the GPS kicked on and it turns out we were less than a mile from the ranch!
We drove a little ways and suddenly, the trees cleared and gave way to a giant ranch, loaded with cars, trailers, food trucks, cowboys & cowgirls, crowds of rodeo-goers, and a whole lot of livestock. WE MADE IT TO THE RODEO!
Finding the Family
Remember, I didn’t tell my family we were coming because we thought it would be a nice surprise to their evening
After parking out in a grassy field next to some horses, we got out and paused to take in the beautiful sunset.
The arena lights were on, and Garth Brook’s “Rodeo” was blaring in the loud speaker. It was about to start!
The stands were packed on both sides of the arena. We slowly made our way along the bottom of the metal bleachers, scanning for my family. It was kind of like a game of “Where’s Waldo” only parent style. After a few minutes, we were stumped. No sign of them whatsoever.
Thinking about our next plan of action, I looked over my fiancee’s shoulder. I saw someone sitting on a blanket similar to one that my mom has. I even said, “Hey, my mom has a blanket just like that.”
But then, I looked who was sitting on it, and it WAS my mom! She was three feet away from us for about 5 minutes, and we didn’t even realize.
To our credit though, she didn’t realize either. We got about one foot from her face before she even recognized us. If the head-turning yelp of glee was any indication, she was definitely surprised.
My dad was busy getting caramel corn so he missed the yelp, but he was thrilled to see us as well. We all exchanged hugs and then it was time to get down to business. The crowd was ready. We were ready.
And the Rodeo Began….
The crowd stood and got quiet. A cowboy road fiercely into the arena with an American flag. He galloped around, the flag flapping behind him as a trumpeter belted a great rendition of the national anthem. The crowd cheered vigorously and the rodeo began!
The next couple hours were an assortment of cowboys getting tossed on they’re heads, necks, butts, and backs. If you’ve ever been to a rodeo, you can understand why rodeo cowboys’ careers are so short. Broken bones, and bruised egos are pretty much the norm. They’re bodies can only endure so much punishment before they have to call it quits. In the meantime, I will use their pain for my entertainment.
Between the bareback riding, which rung more than one cowboy’s bell, and the calf roping which dished out a few hernias for sure, I bet the ice pack industry was booming the next day.
Trailer-Loading Competition
The trailer loading competition was a lot of fun to watch too. Teams of 3 needed to rope a calf, load it in the trailer with one of their horses, and all get into the truck with the doors closed. Out of 6 teams, i think 3 did it successfully. The key was to rope a smaller calf. The teams that roped a big, stubborn calf failed miserably. It was basically like trying to push a parked car around the arena.
After the laughter from the trailer loading competition died down, we were treated to a couple rounds of barrel racing before my favorite competition; BULL RIDING!
Bull Riding
The sport of bull riding will always hold a special place in my heart. I officially had my own bull riding career when I was in college. I came to this very rodeo a decade ago, signed my name on an injury waiver, and rode some bulls.
Reminiscing on My Own Bull Riding Career
I remember it like it was yesterday. The hat, the boots, the spurs, the plaid shirt under my vest, I really looked the part. Too bad I had no idea what I was doing.
I stood above my shoot and stared at the bull inside of it. It didn’t have a name, it just had a number; 257. I was tunnel visioned as I stared down at it, secretly fighting back the urge to puke. 257 was big, and he looked mean.
If I Wasn’t Nervous Enough….
Just as I was about to climb on top of him in the shoot, I heard a groan from the crowd. I looked up to see the cowboy before me just got tossed off his bull. While he was laying there shook, the bucking bull stomped down right on the cowboy’s chest. His hooves broke some ribs and punctured the poor guy’s lung. He had to be carted off. I was next.
I carefully lowered myself down onto 257 and wrapped my right hand in tight. I rested my left hand on the gate. The gate operator asked me if I was ready, but I didn’t hear him. I could only hear my heart beating in my ears. He asked one more time, a little louder. Reality hit, and I nodded.
The Ride
The gate flew open, and the bull started bucking violently. I survived a couple of waves, but then he got the best of me. I was catapulted off, did a mid-air somersault and landed on my back in the dirt. It wasn’t over yet though.
The hooves were coming for me. I rolled over and sprang to my feet because the bull was out for revenge. I darted toward the fence with the bull in tow, and a rodeo clown jumped in the way to lead 257 off in another direction. Those clowns are crazy, but I definitely appreciate them.
All in all, I lasted 2.3 seconds on the back of 257, but it felt like an eternity.
After messing with the bull and almost getting the horns, I did the only logical thing. I went and did it again the next weekend.
The next weekend went about the same as the first one, another 2 seconds to bring my entire bull riding career up to just over 4 seconds, but it was enough for me. I decided to go into retirement.
Even though it was short-lived, it was one of the most memorable and satisfying moments I can remember. I was a bull rider!
Back to the Rodeo at Hand
As my mind slowly returned to the present, I saw a few more cowboys get thrown off their bulls gloriously. I checked the time and realized it was getting late. We decided to leave just before the rodeo finished to get a head-start on the traffic. We finished up our taco truck delicacies, hugged my parents and my aunt goodbye, and scooted out.
As we rode home in the dark, we acknowledged how thankful we were for getting to spend a little quality time with the family. We were also excited that we got to share a new experience with each other, which is always a special bonus.
So, the next time you’re listening to the twang of a country album, maybe it’ll inspire you to head into the country with the people you love, and have your own rodeo adventure.
In the words of Garth Brooks, “They call the thing a Rodeo!”
Take Care,
Cody
Thistle Downs Farm