JOANNA CAREW

I always thought the phrase “this ain’t my first rodeo” was metaphorical. Turns out, it’s also quite literal, and in my case it was my first rodeo.

We’d clocked the sign for the Granby Rodeo on the way to a hike in the Rocky Mountains, and made a snap decision to return in time for the evening show. We weren’t entirely sure what to expect; the dusty venue on the edge of town looked fairly provincial at first glance but by the time we pulled up, the stands were filling fast with a mix of excitable tourists and local families. The contrast between the two was immediate: tourists in shorts, T-shirts and novelty caps vs locals in jeans, shirts, cowboy boots and hats, looking every inch the real deal. It felt like I’d wandered onto a Yellowstone film set.

The evening kicked off, as so many American events do, with flag after flag (one for each military branch) then a cowboy-hatted announcer leading a heartfelt prayer, followed by a belted-out national anthem – you don’t get that at Wimbledon! By the time the games began, the crowd was properly riled up, god bless America indeed.

The events were part horse show, part gymkhana, and part glorious chaos. It was the perfect cocktail of skill, dust, and low-level danger, a kind of agricultural adrenaline. Barrel racing, calf lassoing, riding bucking broncos, the talent was serious, and the costumes even more so. Fringe, spurs, big hats and bigger belt buckles, I was transfixed.

My hands-down favourite? The sheep riding. Yes SHEEP!!! 🐑 In what has to be the most questionable interpretation of “family fun,” they opened up the bucking chutes to reveal not a raging bull, but a slightly confused sheep bearing a small child clinging to its neck like a desperate koala. The audience loved it. Parents were hooting and hollering, kids were often in tears, and the sheep, well, the sheep just looked like they wanted to go home. Zero health and safety, 100% entertainment.

The grand finale brought out the bulls, towering, furious, muscle-bound animals, tossing off grown men like rag dolls. After all the men had been tossed to the ground, one cowgirl came out to give it a go, my god she was strong, it was a phenomenal show of skill watching her do women proud and hold her own. The place erupted!! I nearly stood on my bench, ride that bull girl!!!

There’s something undeniably compelling about rodeo culture. It’s showy, yes, but it’s also skill, tradition, grit, and community. You can see the pride in the kids learning to rope; the way the crowd reveres the riders; the culture of it all from the hats to the horsemanship; it’s rooted in something old and fiercely American. It made me want to spend a week on a ranch learning how to ride like a cowgirl, rope like a cowgirl, and wrestle steer like a cowgirl (or at least look like I could).

So, who’s in for a ranch holiday? Cowboy boots and hats essential. Sense of adventure required, yeehaw 🤠