A STORY WORTH TELLING
“He wears some mighty fancy boots/ And a $200 Stetson/By the way he dresses up/ You might think he’s a Texan/But, he’s all hat and no cattle.”
— Wylie and the Wild West Show
There’s a new subculture in the world of adventure travel. Fox News reported last week how the popular TV show “Yellowstone” and its spinoffs, “1923” and “1883,” are prompting tourists to invade Montana, Wyoming and even Fort Worth to experience “open spaces of the great outdoors.”
The latest spike, according to the story, was credited to the upcoming debut of the second season of “1923” Feb. 23.
They’re calling this phenomenon “cowboy core.” The story cites Fort Worth Mayor Mattie Parker crediting the trend for increases in Cow Town visitors, adding, “It’s good for the economy.”
A travel adviser quoted in the piece said, “dude ranches” are the draw for viewers seeking the “American frontier” experience.
“It looks so magical and majestic. The best way to unleash your inner cowboy is on a dude ranch,” according to the advisory.
Inner cowboy was the last thing on my mind when I discovered dude ranches some 30 years ago in Bandera. A dude ranch was simply a place to live while in the throes of house hunting, having relocated there to manage newspaper operations in Boerne, Bandera, Fort Stockton and Gonzales.
Three weeks spent at The Lightning Dude Ranch in Bandera County turned out to be fun. However, finding my inner “drug-store cowboy” would be a more fitting description. I would say “all hat and no cattle,” but I never got around to owning a cowboy hat.
Bandera’s reported 2020 census was 829, varying little from what it was when I lived there. Community legend allows the census is taken by someone standing on the courthouse steps every year and counting only souls that can be seen.
Dubbed the “Cowboy Capital of Texas,” Bandera actually offers more than just dude ranches. In addition to genuine working cattle ranches, there are places such as the O.S.T. restaurant (Old Spanish Trail) with a John Wayne room and the legendary Arkey Blue’s Silver Dollar Saloon where Hank Williams carved his name on the bar top.
Lightning Dude Ranch’s colorful owner and host was Sybil Broyles. She dressed in cowboy western flair and hosted nightly afterdinner campfire gettogethers. That’s where I also learned she was the ex-wife of William “Bill” Broyles Jr., cofounder and original editor of Texas Monthly magazine in 1973.
Sybil Broyles graciously entertained my questions, as a journalist, about her ex.
In addition to Texas Monthly, Bill Broyles served as Newsweek’s editor from 1982 to 1984. Leaving journalism for screenwriting, he created the television series “China Beach.”
During his career, he wrote for films such as “Apollo 13,” “Cast Away,” the 2001 remake of “Planet of the Apes,” “Unfaithful” and “The Polar Express.” His work on “Apollo 13” earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.
Living at Lightning’s was my second horseback- riding experience, for which I earned no awards. My first time at age 6 left me petrified around horses when, to everyone’s surprise, the steed decided to jump a gate with me still astride.
A trail ride at Lightning’s with my kids was my second time almost 40 years later.
I shared my childhood fright with ranch hands, who graciously assigned me an older mare.
They guaranteed no problems with the gentlest horse they had.
“She never moves any faster than a slow walk,” said one. “You drop the reins, and she’ll bring you slowly back to the barn.”
We were doing fine until the trail went down one side of a dry creek bed and up the other. The old mare eased down but lunged up the other side in a surprise gallop and headed home.
“We never expected that,” said the ranch hand.
“I couldn’t have been more surprised myself,” I replied.
Cowboy core aside, three weeks at Lightning’s left me with many memories.
One, my kids didn’t want to leave Lightning’s.
“Forget about a house,” my daughter pleaded. “We want to live here.”
Two, that was my last horse-riding attempt.
Three, my inner cowboy today includes a passion for boots, a trait acquired in the Hill Country, where business attire included said footwear, starched Wranglers and dress shirts.
I’ll add that my record of never owning a cowboy hat remains intact.
And the closest you’ll ever see me to a cow will be at a good steak house.
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
