Yee-Haw!  A Rodeo

Yee-Haw! A Rodeo

So I took the day off in Maple Creek or Crik as the locals call it. I visited the local museums and found a photo of Andrew Fraser (I’m named after Grandma Fraser who, in her special way, used to introduce my folks as “Ron and Ron’s”) I’m not sure where Andy fits in but I’ll be sure to bleed my Dad dry for information now because my curiosity is piqued. I said I would pictures of Andy to the museum when I got home again.

So the rodeo. Well, the town starts the rodeo with a parade. All the local stores participate towing flatbed trailers decorated with crepe paper and children down the main street. The shiners whizz around in their little cars dressed as clowns and old timers cruise though in various restored vehicles. In this case the old tractors were a real crowd-pleaser.

rodeoqueens.jpg The parade reminded me of that movie Doc Holiday because the town has a simple charm about it where everyone knows everyone and they all wave as they pass by, even if they don’t know you. They seems a bit stand-offish until you ask them a question and then they warm right up and if you are not careful you might get yourself invited to dinner or something.

I met a nice lady from Toronto who had opened a cafe with her sister and their husbands, although the husbands were nowhere to be found. I suspect they were just fine with the ladies running the show. She told me she bought her two store house for 89 thousand dollars. A beautiful brick heritage house with a porch. I laughed and told her that was the down payment on our condo.

After the the parade is the BBQ and wannabe rodeo queens (kind of like a beauty pagent) show off their riding skills the rodeo starts. I was a little surprised when everyone stood up to sing the national anthem. It was the first time I had to sing it in years. It was a nice touch.

The riders were ushered in by a RCMP officer and native indian in full regalia. Then each rider was introduced including when they got their professional rodeo membership and some highlights of their career. There was even some old time cowboys honored who had membership numbers in the teens (there are now over 10,000 members!)

bronco.jpg The rodeo itself is spectacular and not to be missed. In fact I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. The most amazing guys to watch were the catchers (I forget what they are really called). Basically they will ride up to a guy on a bucking horse and pull him off after his eight seconds are up. They then loosed or remove some straps from the bucking horse and escort it out of the ring. These guys do it with such ease you’d think they were glued to their saddles.

cattleroping.jpg The roping was very fast, and was the sort of thing where there is no room for error, you either got the calf or you didn’t.

barrelracing.jpg The barrel racing was also a highlight. I almost felt sick watching how fast they come into the corners on these horses.

dismount.jpg And of course the highligh of the evening had to be the bull riding. I mean really, what kind of sport can compare to pissing off a 2000 pound mountain of muscle and bone to the point where it is thrashing in the stall, and saying “okay, get on.”

It also made me kind of sad though. They manage to keep a lot of traditions alive, like the gal at the museum told me about how a local rancher was struck by lightning out on the range while herding the cattle alone. For his funeral they had a rider-less horse with the boots in the stirrups backwards. The casket was drawn on a wooden wagon pulled by horses, and other old time cowboy stuff. They manage to keep the traditions alive, but again that sense of struggle.

I was also saddened because my grand-father was a cowboy. I have heard tales of him breaking wild horses like the horse whisperer and I wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t lost the farm all that time ago. I could imagine myself owning a farm and cattle and ranching. There is a real mystique about it which I could easily get into. Everyone at the rodeo had on wrangler jeans, oilskin coats cowboy hats and boots except me. I was definitely an outsider. But considering my family helped settle that town, I could have easily been one of them

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