Rancheros Visitadores
Hello, What a shocker. I had absolutely no idea what was in store for me.
The very first gig we played was a lunch stopover for the 40-50 trail riders, of about 60 miles. A little shed with bathroom facilities, a very basic stage(outdoors) on the top of a hill. This is where they stop for lunch, catered by a couple of young Mexican guys, all outdoors, standing. During a moment in between songs Willy quietly told me whilst looking at this group of guys in jeans, boots rugged old shirts and all in white cowboy style hats, you have no idea how many of those guys are billionaires and millionaires and just who is who amongst some of the most important men in America.
Then we, Willy, myself The Priest, (from Cork) were taken for a private tour of the main Ranch House. The guy that took us, (from Cork) his daughter lives there. Married the builder son. Un bloddy believable. Absolutely gorgeous. This is a good hour into the mountains, remote does not even begin to explain this place. This house was just unexceptionably beautiful. Huge wood beams, all intercarved, by hand, Adobe brick. Huge inside and out, no expense spared, but the wood, huge beams and posts. Just an unimaginably gorgeous ranch house.
No explanation I could do of this house and surrounds could possibly come close to doing it justice. All solar powered, yes backup generators tucked away in a back building. Large pool, beautiful fountains all fed from natural springs.
A working ranch with about 100 head of cattle and of course dozens of horses. This is horse country.
Now it was time to go to the campground where we will spend the next two days.
We could go back the way we came in on narrow mountainside little roads, about an hours drive just to get to the road or; I was asked if my car, poor old Murph(My Mercury Mountaineer Premier).was a four wheel drive, so we could take the shortcut!!! It was decided I would follow the two 4X4′s through the shortcut. Across several streams, super tight turns, up and down very steep hills, both wet and dry. One turn in particular, we were on the side of a mountain, serious drop. The turn was so tight you could only do it by getting halfway round, backing up (steep hill) and very tightly getting round at a second go at it. Bloddy dangerous for the 4X4′s, Murph did it. At each of these very difficult turns or stream crossings the two 4X4′ would stop and wait to see if in fact I made it. Not a worry in the world, Murph made it every time, just like they did.
We got to the campground. 1000-1500 men. All in jeans, white cowboy hats. I believe, 17 different groups/camps. Each had their own bar and music. We were assigned to and shared the entertainment at “The Picadores” camp with a bluegrass band from Tennessee. Mostly older guys, absolutely excellent.
We were led up to where our camp was, scrambled around to find a vacent tent, we eventually did, Willy and I shared. Unload our instruments and gear and back down the hill about a mile or so to the parking area and shuttles were running constantly.
Beer, cold water were just left in huge tubs of ice, the bar was constantly open, whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it, all free, no money was needed. There was a stage and sound system. We used it for about an hour the first night but the rest of the time we just jammed with the bluegrass band in front of the massive fireplace. One winter somebody came up there and found a bear sleeping in it.
Chow was in the center of camp, a huge bell about 4-5 foot across, about 30 feet up was rung three times a day and the entire camp converged, lined up and very quickly got identified by a large leather tag hanging around you neck. You never got anything without that tag. Your name was burned into the leather tag and a number assigned to you and your function was also on the tag.
Security was of huge consequence due to to some of the Very big shots who were there, just dressed like everybody else.
Hundreds and hundreds of horses, horse shows, it was nothing for someone to come into the bar on his horse, get a beer or mixed drink without getting off and riding straight through out the other side.
Food was absolutely excellent. Toilets were there for limited use only, basically they would turn around to the nearest tree or post and let it a ll hang out as it were. Me, I was a little timid in that department. I usually used the toilets.
The place was full of Jeans, rugged shirts and 99% white cowboy hat wearing tough country guys from all across the Country and some from other Countries, I met a guy from Spain. The comradeship/politeness was unbelievable. Showers were available, but!!!!.
Yesterday a big black sleek helicopter kept coming and going, seemingly taking some people to a BBQ. I was told it was owned by the guy that bought Micheal Jackson’s Ranch.
See Ya
