Arizona dude ranch is a family tradition for the ages - all of them
EACH February, I find myself in the Tucson, Arizona, desert atop a sweaty 1,000-pound horse, his hoofs pounding through the rocky wash at a steady gallop. I lean back, keep the heels of my boots down in the stirrups and try to roll my hips to stay in rhythm with the horse, and thereby in the saddle. The speed of the loping horses, the shimmering sun, the dust in my eyes and the dramatic beauty of Saguaro National Park and the Rincon Mountains give me an exhilarating rush of pure, adrenaline-fired joy.
Occasionally, though, I fall out of sync with my horse or I think about the jack rabbits or rattlesnakes that could dart out of the brush, cause my horse to shy and throw me into the cactuses or under his metal shoes, and I grit my teeth in terror.
Soon, hands shoot up in front of me like prairie dogs - a silent signal from one rider to the next. My horse recognises the cue even before I do. My body lurches forward as he slows to a walk. I am breathless, thrilled . . . and relieved to have stayed astride my horse for another lope. I’m ready for lunch! Since 1950, members of my family have convened among the cactuses, cowboys and cowgirls to ride through the desert, learn lasso tricks and trip through Western dance lessons at dude ranches in Tucson. Four generations of Lasers and Shlenskys have found that a ranch in the Arizona desert offers the ideal mix of respite, natural beauty and activities for all ages to make this quick family getaway a tradition we just can’t kick.
The ritual began when my mum, Evely Laser, then eight, tested positive for tuberculosis. At that time, the standard medical treatment was a move to a warm, dry climate. Rather than uproot the whole family from Chicago, my grandparents sent my mum to the Brandes School in Tucson. When her family came to visit the boarding school, they all stayed at the Double U Ranch (R.I.P.).
Lonely at first, my mum soon fell in love with horseback riding and formed an emotional connection to the mountains, dotted with saguaro cactuses, that glowed pink at dusk. Her illness abated but her love of horses and the desert did not. Our family’s dude ranch tradition was born.
When I was growing up, my family spent every winter break in Tucson at the Double U, now the Canyon Ranch. Some of my sweetest memories were learning to ride there with my brother Lincoln and sister Sheba, and forming a roving pack with other kids who also vacationed there each year.
My sister and I never missed a ride, developed crushes on the strong, silent wranglers - where are you now, Randy? – guzzled cold Coca-Colas in glass bottles straight from the 25-cent dispenser when our throats got dry and played pool in the Lodge for packs of grape Bubble Yum.
At the Double U, the kids were on loose reins; the same is true for the Tanque Verde Ranch, where my family has been vacationing for the past 30-plus years.
These days, only half of the family still rides horses, so why do we return year after year to a dude ranch known for its outstanding horse program?
The ranch is the one place we have found where all 13 of us - ranging from three to 75 - can do what we want then gather three times a day around a long wooden table in the dining room to swap stories about the latest rider to get bucked off, exchange gossip about the one wrangler who ran off with the other’s wife or just do a crossword together over coffee.
Tanque Verde has changed with the times to offer a broader range of activities. After breakfast, while some of us might take the advanced horseback ride, a few of us might set out on a hilly hike through rock and saguaro formations or take a guided mountain bike ride, while others might hit balls on the tennis courts with long-time tennis pro Daryl, who has been there since my children, now 18 and 20, hit their first ball. Meanwhile, the little ones eagerly trot down to the kids’ programme to do arts and crafts, and learn to ride.