Day 1: Outside Doyle, Calif. by Samantha Shankle, Outpost Staff Related Articles: Introduction Day 2 : Hittin' the trail Day 3 : Ridin' in the wimp wagon Day 4 : The sun shower incident in Lemmon Valley Day 5 : Arrival to Reno Cattle Drive Facts     From the road outside of Doyle, Calif., a little town 60 miles north of Reno, the camp looked like a circus. In fact the driver and I were talking so intently about horses and school that she completely missed the turnout, until I quizzically pointed out the brightly colored tents and mayhem going on in the distance. We doubled back and turned on to an almost invisible dirt road. My mind swam with thoughts of Marlboro country. Cowboys with tight jeans wrapped like sausages in their worn out chaps, mean, ugly bulls with nose rings and huge, pointy horns. My wandering imagination was not far from reality. Bed rolls and tents were already scattered across the arid desert. Volunteer ranch hands were helping the awkward guests learn the ropes of a working cattle drive (lessons included roping cute little hay bale cattle.) The almost gourmet chuck wagon was already set up for the evening (including a full bar which I found out later would be my best friend after being on the trail for 7 hours.) The first advice I received as I climbed out of the safety of the van was from Doug, the head honcho and trail boss. He warned me quite sarcastically, "Honey, everything out here will either bite, scratch or stab, and I'm not just talking about the cowboys." I felt immediately the relaxed and crazy atmosphere. A truck full of the ladies of the camp came whizzing by us, hootin' and hollerin' on their way to the river to wash hours of dust off their bodies. All the men seemed to smirk, upholding the air of gentlemen yet having the curiosity of little boys to go and spy on the skinny dippin' party. Ropin in the twilight: A guest learns the ropes with the help from some hay-bale cows Photo by: S.Shankle I walked around camp looking for the ultimate place to pitch my tent, close to the port-a-potties yet far enough away to not get trampled by others in the middle of the night. Joel, a lawyer from New York, immediately asked if I needed any help. I smiled confidently as I fought with my tent rods, acting as if I did this all the time. I felt a little awkward that first night, as most of the guests seemed to already know each other, like a summer camp for adults that return year after year. But I was soon accepted and integrated into the joke telling and singing that accompanied dinner. Staring outside my tent at the endless stars that first night, I knew this was going to be an experience I would never forget.       copyright 11/15/97 Nevada Outpost http://www.jour.unr.edu/outpost Outpost | Metro | Lifestyle | Travel | Dining | Outdoors Specials | Links | About us | Mail us