Sisters PRCA Rodeo, 2009

The Pro Rodeo Cowboy Association (PRCA) comes to Oregon several times a year, offering the spectacle of pro rodeo to many communities.  (Many more communities see amateur rodeos and local rodeo athletes compete at fairs and carnivals during the Summer, such as those hosted by the NPRA.)  It is from accumulated PRCA events cowboys earn enough points and money to qualify to the National Final Rodeo (NFR) held in Las Vegas in December -- the World Series, so to speak, or Super Bowl of rodeo.  Pendleton's week long "round-up" is the most notorious, but the Sisters Rodeo is the most, well, locally glamorous.  Held every year in the middle of June, the Sisters Rodeo is a weekend many Central Oregon ranchers and urban cowboys alike look forward to. Get ready to buy some new boots and hat and souvenirs, kick up your bling-bedecked heals, drink some non-craftsman beer, and speak in twang, because we're off to the rodeo!

The rodeo is a spectacle of western athleticism.  Dominionist force over wild nature is seductive.  Rough stock cowboys spurring bucking broncos and bulls is the big sell, as is the thought of watching gladiator like figures battling in a dirt arena. Rodeo is a spectacle for ticket holders.  At the professional level rodeo is big business, big investment, and, for the many athletes, a big gamble.  

When Coors buzzed crowd laughs at one liners repeated by the omnipresent arena announcer, athletes behind the chutes are joking amongst themselves, preparing their rigging, and sometimes not quietly wondering if they will be able to pay the mortgage over an 8-second ride.  Draw a "rank" bull to ride or steer to wrestle, the more danger and more likely to fail.  It also mean more money if won.

Behind the chutes are athletes, their families, and supporters who volunteer to ready animals and work the chutes. (It is an especially family oriented lifestyle where spouses, parents, and kids travel together, living out of horse trailers several months of the year on the road to Las Vegas.)  Also behind the chutes are contractors supplying life stock to be ridden and chased down during the three hour performance, medical staff, rodeo administrators, and royalty Contractors build their reputation and inflate their fees when athletes are challenged by their stock, when they provide the properly rank.  EMTs struggle offering adequate care to abused yet stubborn cowboys,  and administrators check over ticket sales.  Rodeo royalty -- young women in garish sequins outfits, tiaras, and oversized belt buckles, represent something feminine in rodeo -- smile at cameras, wave at the crowd, and perform area chores like rounding-up stray calves.   Like a theater performance, the crowd cheers for action as an entire ensemble of actors and crew work diligently to earn their pay. 

Pro rodeo includes particular events in every performance.  These include "rough stock" and timed events.  Rough stock are those events featuring anything that bucks -- bare-back, saddle broncs, and bulls.  Timed events are calf-roping, steer wrestling, team roping, and barrel racing. Rough stock cowboys are the studs.  They wear flamboyant gear, tight jeans, and are often young and suggest untamed virility.  The timed folks tend to be the more mature, less flashy, get-the-job-done types.  The only women-only rodeo event -- barrel racing -- is a timed event, and is an exhilarating run around the arena at full gallup.  Unlike the rough stock cowboys who drive all night from one rodeo to the other, timed cowboys trailer their way across the states, keeping their highly trained horses close at bay, and suffering the whims of diesel costs.

Digging in the Dirt: Building the Slalom Play Loop

Experiences in the saddle often begin with dirt.  And so it is dirt we begin with here.

Building of trails is essential for mountain bikers' experiences.  The Central Oregon Trail Alliance (COTA) has built miles of trails in the forests and eastern mountain slopes of the Cascades.  Phil's Trail network has become so well known that mountain bike magazines will often publish Bend in the same sentence with Moab -- the true Mecca of western mountain biking.  Single track mountain biking has helped place Bend on the radar of bikers across the West and beyond.  "You're from Bend, oh, you mountain bike," is as common an association with place and lifestyle as Utah and Mormons. 

There is more to Bend mountain biking than buff, winding trails through Ponderosa and manzanita.  Dirt jumping and free-riding is growing in popularity here like so many other places.  Bend is between Moab and Whistler in this, where just one style does not a population make.

Jim Karn, member of COTA, has built a very particular trail to suit the desire for dirt jumping. His baby is the Slalom Play Loop, developed over the last six years on the land formerly occupied by a rail road track cutting through the forrest along Skyliner.  Jim approached Deschutes County Forest management with his vision of trail building.  He would maintain the forest, re-plant trees, control noxious weeds, and act as an environmental steward.  And he would build two parallel down-hill trails a half-mile in length stacked with a variety of jumps, table-tops, gaps, rhythm sections, and tight banking berms.  

He has kept his promise of stewardship, and after thousands of hours of work over the years (his own estimate) the Slalom loop is a masterpiece of adrenaline art.  The two trails (and a third uphill return trail) contain features so well built riders are limited by only their own ability.  Jumping and banking and fast peddling become one very rhythmic downhill dance. 

What riders may not notice right away is the subtly Jim and fellow COTA volunteer James Reigner have made in building the Slalom.  It's not just jumps on reclaimed land, but it is a sustainable vision they have built.  They have carved out erosion trails, and have been active in re-planting and protecting trees, and maintain the area so that is a finely sculpted acknowledgment of environmental stewardship.  

I met them recently as they had closed off the trail to maintain an erosion drainage and rebuild the the lower, easier loop.  With shovels and Bobcat, Jim Karn was more interested in work than talking about it.  When I asked why he has spent some much time and dedication on this trail, he simply shrugged the question off:  "if I didn't no one would.  Plus, I ride what I build, so I want it perfect."  

For James Reigner, building trails is stewardship.  "It's not just riding," he told me, "it's respect for the forest and the trail.  It makes the ride more important when you are part of the landscape."  Putting shovel to dirt can't get any more close to the landscape, let alone planting trees, maintaining the trail, and controlling weeds.  

The ride is about being part of the landscape, about expressing yourself in the saddle, and, most importantly, offering something for others to experience.  Though the Slalom Play Loop seems to be merely a short stunt course, it is much more.  It is a vision, it is personal sacrifice, and its an example of promises kept.  It is the Ride.

Vision

My intent with this blog, this documentation of life in the saddle is to explore and learn from the many different riding styles in the west.  Looking at both professional riders and enthusiasts, individuals who stand out, the people who make up riding communities, and businesses helping steer the future of the ride, rather than emphasizing distinction I wish to suggest mutuality.  

Yes, of course being a rodeo star is different than being a Buckaroo pushing cattle across the Great Basin. Yes, being a cowboy is much different than being a free-ride mountain biker.  And, yes, trail riding is not at all BMX stunting at skate parks.  Or is it?  I believe the only question in life is whether or not you are going to answer a hearty 'YES!' to your adventure, not what separates people from sharing experiences.

I will attempt to describe what is unique about particular riding and lifestyles.  My hope, however, is to suggest the possibility of elements within "the Ride" that unite diverse communities and document something apparently different people experience together.

At the most elemental, this is a story of the single person in the saddle.  It is about movement across a landscape. It's about self propulsion, horse power and will power, personal motivation, and focused consciousness. It's the story of experience and strength and wisdom gained by moving through a geography.  And its about communication -- communication between a horse and a rider, and between a person confronting the world and his or her place in it.  

This is a story using the saddle as a primary symbol from which the foundation of experiences is built.  I will document the actions of cowboys and bikers.  This will include the lifestyle of barrel racers and single track mountain bikers, the enthusiasm of dirt jumpers and English riders, and the stylistic differences of riders of many sorts whose experiences begin in the saddle.   By beginning with the saddle, I attempt to present a meaningful life.

Though I don't know if Joseph Campbell rode horses or bikes, he did spent a lifetime presenting a host of folktales and scripture showing what literary symbols reveal, namely,  a "vast and amazingly constant statement of basic truths." What he discovered on his own ride was the notion that people are similar regardless of place or history, culture or bias.  He based this on the notion of monomyth, "an archetype, one shapeshifting and bizarre yet marvelously constant similarity all people share."  He invited readers along for a ride.  From the start of his "Masks of God" series he gave a vision of the destination: "the result for me is confirmation of a thought I have long and faithfully entertained, the unity of the race of man, not only in its biology but also in its spiritual history, which has everywhere unfolded in the manner of a single symphony...out of which the next great movement will emerge."

I have for a long time respected what Campbell sought to do, that is, document cultural experiences by focusing on certain familiar symbols.  The symbol of the saddle, I suspect is a kind of archetype perhaps as significant as the Christian fish, Buddhist circle, or hero's journey.  By taking Campbell's lead -- though spending more time in the dust and grit of trails rather than dust and quiet of libraries -- I hope to engage in spirited conversation with many voices.  And, what ever may come from it, I desire to celebrate brotherhood regardless of division.  

If nothing more, I wish to take from the writing of this blog and photo essays an opportunity to move across the landscape following riders, learning from them, and sharing their life lessons. Perhaps from this, the next great movement will emerge.