Corrals, Campfires, & Cowboy Coffee

By Jamie Ross I was bent at the waist with Rebel's front left foot cradled in my lap. I was just tapping in the last couple of nails, replacing a shoe that had been click-clacking down the trail that afternoon, the footwear on his front feet looking more like flip-flops than horseshoes. Sweat dripped from my brow and ran into my eyes as I struggled with the weight of a 1,200-pound horse who was quickly losing patience with me. Tired of standing on three legs, he was leaning

“Or the day I decided to guide rather than pack!” By Jamie Ross They never showed this in those old Western films, I thought, as I watched the tail end of my pack string erupt into chaos. It started with Chainsaw, the stout palomino bringing up the rear. Maybe his pack had shifted into an uncomfortable position. Maybe he had stepped on a hornet's nest stirred up by the horses ahead. Or maybe he had simply decided he'd had enough. Whatever the reason, he launched int

by Jamie Ross In mid-May, 1983, I stepped off a train in Banff, Alberta, after a three-day cross-country journey. Dragging along a duffel filled with horse gear and tatty clothes, I strolled into town in search of work. I planned to reward myself for my recently earned university degree with a summer of adventure in this beautiful mountain town, not knowing then that one season would turn into ten years spent working as a cowboy, wrangler and mountain guide. These are stori