Bio: Dude, Chore Girl and Wrangler, 1946-1950’s. Descriptor: Playing tricks on new dudes, the dude ranches’ rodeo and the fall horse drive to Dubois in a snow storm.
Ann’s Story: My parents, sister and I first went to White Grass the summer of 1946 and went back many more summers. My memories of those early years are of un-crowded, unspoiled open spaces. For example, we thought nothing of drinking from any stream around – except, of course, the one running through the horse corral.
We seldom saw other riders on our many trips to Phelps, Taggart and Bradley Lakes, or up Death Canyon, and nobody in those days thought of hiking. White Grass often provided 3 day pack trips – going up Death Canyon, and coming down Cascade Canyon. Once, as we were crossing the pass between Paintbrush and Cascade Canyon on a snow bank, Frank Galey, the owner, remarked that we were probably the first people there since before World War II. Most of the pack trips were wonderful – enjoyed by all – except for one. Frank decided to take an overnight “kids’ pack trip”. No adults, except him and a couple of cowboys. We went up Open Canyon and were supposed to cross over to Death Canyon via a trail Frank thought he remembered from years before. He didn’t. We ended up off trail, leading our horses down what seemed like a cliff. We arrived back at White Grass way after dark to a crowd of frantic parents. I thought it was a fun, exciting adventure.
One of the highlights of the summer was the Dude Ranch Rodeo, often held in Jackson. The horses needed were either trucked in or led there – a long, hot, dusty trip. Many dude ranches participated, and usually a large ranch like Teton Valley won the trophy, but I remember one time, thanks to our family, White Grass got it. My sister and I were in various horse races, and my father and George Clover participated in the “pack race” (a cowboy and a dude must put a pack saddle on a horse and race around the track leading the horse without the saddle falling off). But most memorable, my mother, who didn’t like riding all that much, entered the “couples’ race” with my father. They had to race around the track, each on his/her own horse holding hands the whole time. The other ranches entered with very fast, but overly spirited horses, that caused the couples to separate. My parents calmly loped around the track and WON!
In those days many people coming from the east had no idea what the west was like. One time some dudes were picked up from the Jackson airport (many people took the train to Rock Springs and were driven from there). It was evening and the driver was told to warn the dudes about trouble from a small band of rebellious young Indians. As they drove up to White Grass, a group of us, all riding bare-back, some with feathers in their hair, and all whooping, rushed out to meet them. – Exciting introduction to the wildest, craziest, most fabulous ranch there was!
One early morning coming back from a bar in Kelly, along the Buck-N- Rail fence that lead into the ranch I spied a cowboy hat on one of the posts, picked up the hat and saw the name Frank Galey on the sweat band. The next morning took the hat to the main house to return it. I found Frank was messing with a pump shotgun that had jammed he could not get to cycle. I asked him if I could look at it, He looked up at me over his glasses like “who is this dumb kid” he handed me the shotgun which I cleared promptly and handed him back the shotgun. He said Griz (I had curly and a bushy beard) you fix ‘em but can you shoot it, we went to lower pasture where a clay pigeon was set up. Mr. Galey and I broke many birds that morning, from that point on whenever a guest wanted to shoot clay pigeons, Frank would say “Get Griz to show them how it’s done.”
The ranch foreman Kluaus “Curly” Temple was colorful character. He had a mangled foot from a misunderstanding with a horse which caused him to have pronounced limp in his step. On more than one occasion I heard him say “When I get my bionic leg you’ll sure see some ass kick’n around this barn yard.”
I was lucky enough to be asked to stay and drive the horses to DuBois, Wyo for the winter and then help close- up the ranch for the season. We made it as far as Lake of the Woods at the Continental Divide when we were hit by an early season snow storm. Horses, snow, campfires and wranglers, let me tell you it was like living a Louis L’Amour story. I was asked to return the following season, but life got in the way and I never went back. I will always remember fondly my adventure on the White Grass Ranch.