Eight Top Family Resorts

A great guide from FamilyFun

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Rock Springs Guest Ranch, Oregon

Years ago, at Rock Springs Guest Ranch in Bend, Oregon, we came to know cowboy country from the backs of our horses. Juniper trees laced the foothills of the snowcapped Cascade Mountains, sagebrush and wild rye dotted the high desert and distant canyons and ridges glinted in sunlight. Riding rugged terrain was only part of the romantic draw. My husband, David, daughter, Alissa, and I took to hanging out by the fireplace in our cabin, too, and embraced the ranch's attitude, in which dressing for dinner meant putting on clean jeans and kicking the mud off our boots.

From the first giddyup, the ranch staff impressed us. To ensure "fun in a safe environment," Fran Muckey, a head wrangler, talked privately with each of us to assess our needs and be sure the matches she made between horse and rider were not blind dates. Alissa, almost 13 years old at the time, wanted to canter the countryside like Annie Oakley without sidearms. A knee injury made saddle-sitting problematic for me, so I requested a horse with an easy gait. David wanted to relive his cattle-drive days with some rough riding.

Our wishes were granted. Because the ranch owned (instead of renting) its horses, the wranglers knew each horse's temperament. Amber, my dun, was like Lassie with horseshoes. Blackjack, David's mount, liked to clamber up cliffsides. Tasha, as Alissa soon announced, "had an attitude." Why did my daughter get assigned a creature for whom high-strung was an understatement? "Because Alissa is ready for a challenge," replied Fran. Over time, with encouragement from the guides, Alissa took control. Long before the end-of-the-week family ride, I felt proud of her mastery and, more important, so did she.

The instructional program worked. Never more than seven riders, and frequently fewer, headed out with one wrangler, and kids got to practice skills by playing games. The adults received tips if they asked, which we did. By midweek, our family cry was "Eat my dust," figuratively and literally.

For those who wanted respite from the dry trail, Rock Springs proffered other pursuits. Alissa cooled off in the pool, David soaked in the hot tub and I read novels on the cabin porch. Others we met played tennis, explored Bend or fly-fished nearby rivers. Some couch cowboys came just for the scenery and food--the latter a reward my family eagerly trotted back for.

The children's program, complete with overnight camp-out, kept Alissa happy, but we were lucky: the week we went there were 11 kids ages 8 to 13. Had we booked the following week, she would have been the only child older than eight. So call ahead to check. We will the next time we go. We can't wait to saddle up again and, yes, ride off into the sunset--or anywhere else Amber, Blackjack and even Tasha want to take us.