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This is Page 81.

See some past photo entries below.

See an index of all past photos here.

See Page 1 here with the current photos.

 

We welcome your pictures. We're looking for images that give a glimpse of the ranching, cowboy, and rural and working life of the West of today and yesterday. We're looking for vintage photos and contemporary photos: family photos, images of where you live and work, and the area around you. 

If you have a photo to share, email us for information about sending it to us.


 

Send your photos.

 Email us.

 

 

If you enjoy this feature, you may also be interested in our 
Western Memories Project, the personal recollections— many with photos— contributed by BAR-D visitors.  Your stories and photos are welcome.


Week of August 2, 2010


We welcome your photos.

We're looking for images that give a glimpse of the ranching, cowboy, and rural and working life of the West of today and yesterday. We welcome vintage and contemporary photos:  family photos, images of where you live and work, and the area around you. 

Share your part of the West or the West of your past. To send photos and their descriptions, just email them to us.   


previous  photos

index of all photos


Picture the West can be a weekly feature only if you share your photos. Help show a worldwide audience the real West.

Email your photos and their descriptions.


Horsewoman, writer, singer, and yodeler Robin Dale shares a photo from Washington State's Pacific Crest Trail.

She sent along a description:

Ride to Spectacle Lake and Beyond

My gals' riding group, based in the east of Seattle area, rode just about every Wednesday for 20 years. In the winter we did local rides, mostly in the tree farm trails. But in the summer we hit the beautiful high country trails in the Cascades of Washington.

One July day in 2005, as usual, we met early in North Bend, Washington, combining horses and trailers where possible. After about a 2-hour drive, we saddled and headed west out of the Pete Lake trailhead. After a little more than hour we hit the lovely Pete Lake with the Alpine peaks standing in sharp contrast above it. In another half hour we hit the Pacific Crest Trail and headed south.

Soon we began the some 39 narrow edgy switchbacks that brought us up and up and finally, after a 3-hour ride, into the spectacular Spectacle Lake! There we enjoyed lunch gazing down on one of the most
beautiful lakes in the Alpine Wilderness with the jagged peaks of Chikamin Mountain, Chimney Mountain, and Lemah Mountain, awing us with their up-close grandeur.

Usually we would turn around here and head back but today the the mountains beckoned us on...

We continued climbing for another 30 some minutes and arrived at this amazing spot—a reflection pond with the Chikamin peaks behind us! Unforgettable!


 

Robin Dale, aka "Red Ridin Robin"

Walla Walla, Washington

When I am not hitting the high mountain trails on my fast-traveling Tennessee Walkers, I especially enjoy writing up my adventures or singing around the campfire. Whether it's ballads of the old west or upbeat yodeling tunes, I appreciate sharing my love of the western life and wide open spaces. So watch the horizon, if you are riding the high country, you will probably run into me with another trail song bubbling up out of a heart filled with an irrepressible zest for  life.

 


   Share your photos for Picture the West.

Send your views of the West.

We're looking for images that give a glimpse of the ranching, cowboy, and rural and working life of the West of today and yesterday. We welcome vintage and contemporary photos:  family photos, images of where you live and work, and the area around you. 

If you have a photo and story to share, email us.


Week of July 26, 2010

 

Texas poet and writer Linda Kirkpatrick tells about "going home" one last time to the ranch house where she grew up:

I grew up on the H. W. Lewis Ranch in Real County, Texas. The ranch is at the headwaters of Bull Head Creek, which feeds the Nueces River in the Nueces Canyon and Owl Hollow,  a "holler" that has many small draws that catch rainwater as it runs from the hills. The draws from Owl Hollow run to the various creeks which then run into the Frio River in the Frio Canyon.

We leased 26 sections of some of the most rugged land in the area. It was at one time home to Lipan - Apache and Comanche Indians and then every outlaw and cattle rustler who needed a place to hide. We moved to the place in 1954 and it was then our home and the home of about 2000 head of Angora goats, 1500 head of sheep, 40 cows and enough horses to work them all. We had to drive a hard 30 minutes to get to the house just from the highway. The drive from Leakey to the house was only fourteen miles, seven from town to the turn off and then another seven over rocks and caliche with ten bump gates dividing pastures along the way.

My mother painted this picture below of the ranch house in the 1960s. Mr. Arthur Sharpe, a local businessman, commissioned her to depict the house as it was when he was born there in 1909. He didn’t have a photo but told my mother how the house had looked when he was a child, complete with dog trot, typical of rural Texas homes. When we moved into the house in 1954, the dog trot had been enclosed and two porches had been added, one in the back and one on the side. In the painting, the kitchen was in the front of the house; when we moved in the kitchen was on the far side of the fireplace.

Now what is really interesting to me is that Mr. Sharpe was born just 23 years after the last Indian raid in the canyon, a mere 7 miles from the house.

I took this picture a few years after we left the ranch:


This was my favorite building on the whole ranch. Originally an old corn crib, we used it as a feed room and saddle house. We would tie the horses at the edge of the lower roof and saddle from there.



The house, a typical ranch house for the time, was not that large and did not have running water or a bathroom. My granddad added a bath and ran a water pipe from the windmill on the hill to the house. We had a hot water heater for the bathroom but for some reason it was never run to the kitchen. So hot water for washing dishes was "toted" from the bathroom to the kitchen with me being the usual "toter."

My next favorite place, the shearing barn:

We had no phone or television. So this is where my imagination began to blossom. I read so many books and learned the ways of ranching.

My dad retired in 1980s. My uncle had passed away and Daddy was getting older and could not manage the ranch by himself. When my parents left the ranch it seems like the barns, pens and the house just died for lack of company.

The milking barn and silo:


Years ago there were no weeds or prickly pear. The milking barn pen is the setting for the lines in my poem, "When Round-up Time Comes Round":

....
The gray gelding snorts and paws the ground,

Then tosses his head in the air,

The bay in the corner trots round the pen,

They call her the Mustang Mare.
....

Recently the house began to just fall down and the owners knew that they must do something. They decided that the house must come down. The original house was called a old dog-trot house, meaning that an open hallway
separated the two halves of the house. Later remodeling closed in the dog trot and rearranged the interior. This took place shortly before we came along. I remember everything was painted white: the house, barns and pens.
To me it all looked so nice and clean and that is the memory I will always have.

The old cutting chute; many a sheep and goat passed through that gate:
 


So many places are now going through this same traumatic experience. Ranches in this area are becoming havens for the hunters. Sadly, ranchers just cannot make a living here anymore.

The once-proud house pasture has met with Father Time. The working pens have become overgrown with weeds and prickly pear and are either falling down or have rotted away; no telling how many snakes call the place home. The barns, like the house, are a shamble of falling-in floors and walls.

The stock tank is dry and so are the water troughs. I doubt the windmill will ever turn again. And of the house, only a partial wall and part of the floor remain. The fire place and chimney look very lonely.

I did recall a lot of memories while there and that is all that there will ever be now. The saying is true that you can never go home again.


 

Linda Kirkpatrick has shared other interesting Picture the West photos:

  Garner State Park

  Horses and horsewomen in her family

  Raising goats in Texas

  Vintage dolls from a ranch girl's life

   Photos and a story about the wild hogs of Frio Canyon in Texas Hill Country

  Sheep and goat ranching photos from the 1950s and later

    1930s photos from her Texas hometown's history

lkFLEMINGfinal.JPG (40636 bytes)  A 1905 family photo, Texas Ranger family history and contemporary photos

lkwatsonsmj.JPG (24370 bytes)  A 1930s-era photo of cowboy polo team


Photo by Jeri L. Dobrowski; see her gallery of western performers and others here.

Read more about Linda Kirkpatrick and some of her poetry here.


   Share your photos for Picture the West.

Send your views of the West.

We're looking for images that give a glimpse of the ranching, cowboy, and rural and working life of the West of today and yesterday. We welcome vintage and contemporary photos:  family photos, images of where you live and work, and the area around you. 

If you have a photo and story to share, email us.


   

        

       

     

       

     

     

     

    

     

   

     

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tell us your stories!  If you have a photo to share, email us.

See an index of all past photos here.

 

 

 

 

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