Story by Ryan T. Bell / Photographs by Eliseo Miciú
Argentine gaucho Armando Deferrari explains how he and his fellow countryman Pablo Lozano brought their rawhide-braiding styles north and became two of the American West’s most ulikely traditional cowboy craftsmen.
The sound of cowboy boots walking across a concrete floor is what Argentine rawhide braider Armando Deferrari recalls about that July day in 2002. It was a day that would change the course of his career forever. Deferrari and fellow braider Pablo Lozano were showing their wares at the annual La Rural livestock exposition in Buenos Aires, Argentina, when an American cowboy approached their display.
2010: a year when the national parks backcountry will be forever changed.
Ken Burns' mini-series will put the spotlight on scenic vistas like the Snake River in Yellowstone National Park, encouraging more visitors to the area. Will the fallout be good or bad for horsemen?
In the movie The Gods Must Be Crazy, a Coca-Cola bottle dropped from a passing airplane lands in a remote African village, irrevocably changing the tribesmen’s worldview. In just a few months, the U.S. National Park Service will drop three of its own Coke bottles (of sorts): concealed weapons, mountain bikes and Ken Burns’ movie camera. What will the ramifications be for horsemen?
In the used pack-saddle market, the O.P.R. Decker is a 100-year old saddle many consider the greatest ever built.
Remove the canvas aparajo on a used Decker pack saddle and look for the initials "O.P.R.," the gold standard for quality.
For some horsemen, the idea of buying a used pack saddle is as appealing as purchasing a pair of used boxers. After too many trail rides, a once pristine saddle can resemble a leftover French fry at the bottom of the fryer basket. But lurking on the dusty shelves of the used-saddle aisle could be a gem whose quality rivals anything made today – the O.P.R. Decker.
Forest Service trail crew unloads timber for repairing the West Fork Trail.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I could have taken my last ride down Forest Service Trail 222 three years ago. This backcountry route, which follows a mountain stream to where it spills out of an alpine lake, is a favorite among locals in southwestern Montana. It’s touchstone country, the kind of place horsemen are compelled to visit every year.
In the summer of 2007, I pulled into the trailhead and found a posting that informed me FS 222 had been closed until further notice because of safety issues. In all fairness, the trail did need some work. “A retaining wall on a steep mountain traverse had failed, and I can still recall the unnerving sound of rocks crumbling under hooves and tumbling down to the canyon floor. So, I drove away from the the trailhead, thinking that I’d enjoy next year’s ride all the more on a newly repaired trail.
Ditch the word “dude” and buck up. It’s time for wranglers to get back to their roots.
I’ve been a “dude” wrangler for 10 years. In Western circles, that’s not something you’re supposed to admit. It’s like confessing that you enjoy working with mules – or worse, that you liked the movie All the Pretty Horses (which I’ll also admit to).
Perhaps this perception is because wranglers are viewed as a joke, a shadow of a once-glorious past. But it’s time to set that misconception straight. Wranglers need a manifesto, a mission statement to get our profession back on track. Get ready to take some notes.
July 2009
At an Argentine ranch roping, the author reconnects with gaucho life and, in the company of one of the world’s top rawhide braiders, reflects on gaucho gear and techniques.The horse felt good under me. As in, “Pawn my saddle and send me the money. I’m staying in Argentina.” It had been two years since I had last ridden a Criollo stock horse on the day I rode away from Estancia del Cielo. On that cattle ranch in the Andes Mountains, I learned to appreciate the nuances of Argentine horsemanship: a horse’s clippered mane and bobbed tail, the gait of its working walk, and the heavy rawhide reins that send subtle cues to a spade bit. It felt good to be back in gaucho country.
Story appears in the July 2009 Western Horseman, or read it here.
Two hundred horsemen thunder down the California trail, riding by the light of n August moon. The sight of them would evoke images of Hidalgo or The Man from Snowy River if it wereen’t for the lycra riding pants, high-tailed Arabians and endurance saddles. But don’t be fooled. This isn’t your little sister’s dressage competition. It’s the Tevis Cup, also known as the Western States Trail Ride, backcountry’s greatest endurance race.
“The Tevis Cup is a true test of backcountry horsemanship,” says Tom Christofk, a race veteran. “It’s a rugged trail that weaves in and out of forests, over rock faces, through canyons, and across rivers and streams. It’s no ride through Central Park.”
The story appears on p. 40 of the July 2009 Western Horseman, or read it here.
American Horse Publications announced the winners of the annual photography contest, and my image “Shipping Ridge” is a finalist! Once in a while, circumstances align to create the perfect photograph. This was one of those moments. Here’s how it went down…
