An English country girl in California: Wild weather and memorable guests

September is a gorgeous month in Wyoming, I was told. Clear skies, warm sunshine, the aspens turning gold. Well, it is true, most of the time, but this September, we have seen so much rain that the locals account it the wettest fall they can remember. At first, it was all rather fun, as it gave me the opportunity to wear the enormous yellow stock coat lent to me by Will Parish from San Francisco. It is far too big for me really, and touches the ground when I’m on foot, but it covers absolutely everything on horseback. I’m not sure the Arabs would appreciate it, but that day, I was riding Dandy, a sensible bay quarter horse who had been rather sluggish with guests and needed a wrangler to wake him up. In fact, he was lovely, responsive and keen to canter, and, most importantly, amenable to my wearing the yellow mac.

The huge cowboy stock coat!

Blissfully dry on Dandy

Being from England, rain and mud are familiar to me, but they are a bigger problem here due to the dryness of the ground and the bentonite, volcanic ash, in the soil. There is so little rain that when it does come, it won’t soak in and and the bentonite makes every path unbelievably slippery. It all makes it very difficult to find places to ride, and, in particular, ride fast, which can be tricky when we have guests who are keen to canter. That first day, we had to cancel riding in the afternoon, but the sun came out the following day in time for a decent session of team sorting, and Saturday dawned sunny and warm. It began in true cowboy style, moving cattle back up to the Shoshone National Forest, whence they had come after some idiotic hiker had left the gate open – despite it being festooned with ‘please shut the gate’ signs. Funnily enough, the hammock cows were in the group, and still sticking close to each other. It bodes well for the round-up that the herd is so keen to come down to the ranch already!

Moving cows on a glorious morning.

The formerly hammock-bound pair are in the centre

After a calm, successful cattle drive up to the forest, Chilly, Mel, Hadley, a guest and I waved the rest of the guests, plus Megan and Hannah, off on their picnic ride, and set off for a jumping session. I was riding Marcus, a rather ugly but very comfortable Appaloosa, on his first ever go at fences. A guest once said that all Appaloosas jumped and he has proved it true, improving in leaps and bounds (no pun intended), and becoming ever keener. The sun shone, and we returned to the ranch on top of the world. But then, after lunch, the heavens opened with barely a minute’s warning, rendering us extremely grateful for the guest who had wanted to jump and therefore freed us from the picnic ride! The others returned eventually with glowing cheeks and full of Blitz spirit – all credit to guests who can survive 15 minutes of hail and torrential rain that turned the path down the mountain into a river, plus thunder and lightning that saw even experienced horses spooking. Hot baths all round ensued, and stories of intrepid survival will no doubt be told for many years to come.

Marcus (right) with his friends Millie and Lakota, has proved to be a super jumping pony

The entrance to the corral on a stormy afternoon

All good fun, but we could have done without the rain continuing all that night and all of Sunday. The river by the ranch where we cool the horses’ legs after riding was a raging torrent and it was a struggle to find places to ride safely when the new group of guests arrived on the Monday. The sun did come out, thankfully, but, on Tuesday afternoon, the storms returned. Chilly, Megan and I were taking the guests to Old Lady’s cabin (where the Sheep Queen of Wyoming lived alone with her flocks in the 1930s), when the whole of the north-western sky beyond the ranch turned black as pitch and lightning flashed in a continual fireworks display. We decided discretion was the better part of valour and turned for home. It was a fantastic spectacle, although less fun when the edge of the storm caught us about a mile from the ranch. I was riding one of my favourites, Narok, a gorgeous young bay Arab who was definitely not keen on the thunder and leapt forward at the first deafening clap, but settled down as much as could be expected. Gale-force winds made all the horses spin to turn their tails into it, but we pushed on and reached home intact and, typically, in watery sunshine. The guests were game as anything – respect!

The river by the ranch - normally a clear, calm and inviting stream

The storm looms - imagine the sky split by lightning forks every few seconds

The photographs don't do it justice - it was far blacker than it looks here

Thankfully, the following few days saw perfect weather, crisp and cold, with crystal-clear air and blue, blue skies. Heavenly. Unfortunately, however, as I write this on the eve of the round-up with the sun beating down, clouds are building over the Wind River Mountains and the forecast is for near-freezing temperatures and snow. It could be an interesting week.

This is what September is supposed to be like!

Looking down from the switchbacks to the ranch and the

snow-capped Absaroka Mountains beyond

Whatever happens, I am sure the guests will take it in their stride. We have all kinds of people coming to the Bitterroot, of every age and every standard of riding. Those who are just beginning can take lessons from Hadley, who is unfailingly encouraging and pays attention to each guest individually, and most of them end the week as decent riders. Those who can already ride relish the chance to get up some speed on rides such as Swanson's or Hoodoo, and move cattle through Buffalo Draw. Some of the more enthusiastic, including a pair who took part in the storm-wracked picnic ride, manage to get up first thing to help us get the horses in - much appreciated! They come for hundreds of different reasons and from all over the world, from Australia to France, where Bayard has spent many years and the Bitterroot has received a good deal of publicity. Many come just for a holiday, as a couple, a family or alone, and many come back year after year, a tribute to the allure of the ranch. But some come for more memorable reasons, such as the lady who came on the anniversary of her father's death to pay tribute to his life on horseback. A Frenchman came to fulfil a lifelong dream of riding in the Wild West, his holiday a 50th birthday present from his friends and family. A whole group of ladies from North Carolina came on a girls' trip, one of whom had had her trip paid for by her girlfriend for her birthday. Another in the group had just recovered from cancer, and overcame a long-held fear of horses to touch them, groom them, and even ride. Copenhagen, an unfailingly gentle quarter horse, gave her one of the most magical mornings of her life and her joy was palpable. A French couple came for their honeymoon, sparking a scramble among the cabin staff to make their bedroom suitably romantic. One lady had barely ridden since a terrible fall showjumping 20 years ago, and ended the week moved to tears, she was so thrilled to have overcome her fears and canter across the hills of Wyoming.

Copenhagen (centre) is a true gentleman who gave one guest

one of the most memorable mornings of her life

The view from Pine Creek Bench to the Wind River Mountains

on a proper September day

The Foxes themselves have fascinating stories, as do the staff. The Bitterroot Ranch, tucked away in this beautiful corner of the least populated state in America, has a magic that seems to appeal across the ages and the continents, and, at the risk of sounding horribly corny, I am so glad to have become a member of the Bitterroot family.