White Stallion Ranch - Tucson, Arizona

Kjell and Eleanor Andersson
Sweden
(Kjell - Dad and Eleanor, 12 years old)

For us, it was a dream come true to visit the ranch. We had seen all the western movies and the beautiful Arizona landscapes on TV. Eleanor's dream vacation was a western ranch with cowboys, cowgirls, horses and cows.

Eleanor rides English at home in Sweden and Kjell is a beginner. We looked on the internet and decided that White Stallion would be perfect for us. Kjell's favorite childhood TV show was "High Chaparral" and since it was filmed at White Stallion, we were sure it was the place for us!

We arrived late in the evening and after a few minutes at the Front Desk, we were served dinner, met lots of new friends and were welcomed to the ranch. We felt like a part of the family! We enjoyed riding twice a day and team penning, but the All Day Ride into Saguaro National Park was definately something special!

The wranglers made all the rides really interesting and safe. They take such good care of the horses and the guests! We even took some lessons so we could lope on the fast rides. We liked the fact that adults and kids could ride together, and it was great to be able to soak in the hot tub after a long day! We had intended to stay for a week and leave for Disneyland, but Eleanor wanted to stay at the ranch for our entire trip. We just love this ranch and can't wait to come back!

45+ years at White Stallion Ranch
Sally McCuen

My parents began taking their kids to Tucson in the mid-1950s. I didn't get to go until I was eight years old, so my first visit to the White Stallion Ranch was in 1960. I haven't missed a single year since.

Back then, our mom would pack a trunk to be shipped by rail about 2 weeks before we would leave. In the trunk would go cowboy boots, western shirts, blue jeans, bathing suits and Mom's beautiful squaw dresses. (Squaw dresses were brightly-colored, full-skirted, and embroidered with rickrack -- very western and very pretty.) I would start packing my suitcase at the same time, then unpack it, pack it again, unpack, pack. My excitement was in high gear. I could not wait: we were going to the Ranch!

It was a never ending flight from Cleveland to Tucson in a prop plane. But when we stepped down the stairs when leaving the plane, the first thing I would notice was the smell. Tucson smelled wonderful: a completely distinctive fragrance of sagebrush and creosote bush. Getting to the Ranch was a long, nighttime journey on dusty dirt roads.

We always had the last cottage in the row, farthest away from the ranch house -- numbers 11 and 12. In those days there were only six houses, just twelve rooms. Mom loved to be able to look out the door of number 12 and have an unbroken view of the desert all the way to the mountains.

White Stallion has changed since I was a little girl. There used to be two mountains -- the Twin Peaks -- off to the west. They're almost completely gone now, ground down to be used as cement. There was nothing near the ranch. All the way from Oracle road, the only thing you saw was "lil' Abner's" steak house. Yep, its still there, nestled among the phenomenal growth of housing development that has overwhelmed Tucson.

The Ranch was owned by Brew and Marge Town and they ran things a bit differently. All of the children ate dinner an hour before the adults so the grown-ups could enjoy their cocktails and then their dinner in peace. We kids ran all over the Ranch while our parents dined. The only real danger being the swimming pool (off limits without a grownup) and maybe the nasty but rarely seen critters that call the Sonoran Desert home.

The days were filled with horses and swimming. In the years before sunscreen my nose would burn and peel three times during the 2 weeks we stayed at the Ranch. My sister Jane "the sun goddess" soaked up so many rays one year she got sun poisoning!

A few evenings during our stay we would have square dancing. This is where the "squaw dresses" came in. Not something anyone would be caught dead in today but back then the women all looked lovely twirling around on the patio and the men were all handsome in their cowboy shirts, boots and bolo ties.

My father could only join us for a few days during each year's stay. He spent his time walking the desert looking for interesting rocks that he would polish and turn into beautiful western jewelry. There were a group of rock collectors every year. They would get together to examine their finds declaring most of them to be "tasobas" which stood for "throw the son of a bitch away!"

Over the years, the next generation, my parents' grandchildren, all fell in love with the ranch. Leaving always meant tears and weeks of longing to return. After all, we returned to cold and raining weather. What kid wouldn't want to return to warmth and sun, horses and freedom?

Sally Wilson McCuen

The White Stallion Ranch
Stephanie AuWerter

I admit I have a thing for cowboys. As a 36-year-old New Yorker, most people are surprised to hear this. They're also surprised that I ride western style, that I own a cowboy hat as well as Wrangler jeans, and that my favorite sport to watch on television is bull riding. In fact, they're surprised I've ever even seen a cowboy, aside from a naked one who plays his guitar and sings bad country songs in the heart of Times Square. He doesn't count.

My love of cowboys, and all things dude ranch, comes from visiting the White Stallion Ranch more or less every year since I was about 10. It's a long family tradition: my mom has been coming to the ranch since she was a little girl. Flip through our family photo albums, and what you'll see is year after year, after year, of ranch photos.

We tend to distinguish the years by the horses we rode at the time. As a girl, my horse was Lorado. My Aunt Jo rode Cochise. Aunt Sal? Rocky. My mom rode Navajo. Over the years the horses changed, of course. There were some not so-favorites. As a teen, my riding requirements were "anything but Chico."

We had a wrangler who worked at the ranch during the early 1980s to thank for giving us a dead rattlesnake that my brother, age eight at the time, diligently took home with him on the plane and placed in our freezer. (Its head was shot off during a trail rideâ€¦trail rides were rowdier back then.) The headless snake stayed there for a good five years or so, nestled in amongst the frozen pizzas and popsicles.

The ranch has changed quite a bit since I was a girl. There was no spa, basketball courts or wireless internet (in fact there was no internet at all) when I first started visiting. But what strikes me most is how much the ranch really is the same. There's a certain omfort in each year, heading out of the corral for the mountain ride, of eating too many brownies at the cookout, of playing cards with my family before heading up to the lodge for dinner, and at night, marveling at just how many stars there are in the sky compared with home. The Trues have also been a part of the ranch since I started visiting, although it was Michael and Russell's parents who were in charge way back when.

Visiting the ranch is always a fun time, but it's also become a time of reflection for me. It's a time to remember family members who have passed away (my grandparents, two aunts), who loved coming to the ranch as much as I do. It's also a time to review the past year and to think about the year ahead. A lot goes through a cowgirl's mind when out on the trail with her trusty horse. From the big: "Am I doing the right things with my life?" To the little: "I wonder if it's steak for dinner?"