Karl and Tina

As the summer of 2012 approaches, we wanted to take this opportunity to share a little bit of the history of the Gros Ventre River Ranch and what it has meant and still means to the Weber and McGough families over the last 25 years.

We purchased the property, known as the Flying V Ranch, from Roy and Becky Chambers in October 1987. We bought 158 acres, four small cabins and a lodge. Our vision was to make it a place that families and individuals could come and share with one another this remarkable natural beauty called Jackson Hole. First came the addition of the log lodges and a year later, the main lodge overlooking the river. The barn across the road opened up a world of trails and activities. Some may remember those first years when the horses we bought from Roy Chambers would jump the fence and head down the road to their previous winter residence in the pastures off Mormon Row, creating some early morning roundup duties for our wranglers! One of our repeat guests pointed out that the old metal shed across from the lodge was an eyesore and so the “Mary Picarillo Maintenance building” was built. Another eyesore was the gravel pits located at the far end of the property and after much frustration with how to properly engineer them, we produced two decent fishing ponds for anglers to cast a line. Later came the arena and many afternoons filled with laughter as we have gathered up those “doagies” into the pen. In 1997 we constructed the Osprey Bridge which paid homage to the Osprey family that had nested on the banks of the Gros Ventre for 10 years. What fun we had christening the occasion with champagne, speeches and cigars! Today, it is most enjoyable, as we cross the bridge daily on foot, on horses or in one of Karl’s old cars to see what adventures await us on the other side. Chuck and Buzzie Smith shared so many of these early memories, as they managed the ranch for us for several years and became part of our family. In 2001, Chuck and Buzzie decided to retire, but did not venture far, spending their summers on the Teton Valley Ranch in Kelly and visiting often to catch up with old friends and sit awhile with Karl and Tina. Chuck’s passing last year has left an empty saddle in our barn and in our hearts and we are forever thankful for his friendship, his big smile and his love of the western way of life.

Also in 2001, we welcomed our daughter, Tori, and son-in-law, Sean, to the ranch to take over as managers. Tori and Sean have brought much to the ranch over the last 11 years– including three children, five dogs and a cat! It is a special experience to share this ranch with them and to watch our three granddaughters walk in the footsteps of their mother- always at the barn or on a horse!

We have so many memories of the past 25 years and our guests and staff are the thread that runs through it all, for it is the people that gives life to the Gros Ventre River Ranch. Be it “Rosie’s Trail”, “Lucy Hill” or “Wooden bridge”, it is all of you sharing your stories, laughter, tears and friendship that gives this ranch, our home, its character. We look forward to sharing more time with you in the future and give thanks for the time we have had together so far.

May your trails lead you back to friends and family…

evenings by the campfire

It has been awhile since the world has been encouraged to take their families on a “dude ranch” vacation. Long gone are the days of John Wayne or the Lone Ranger –even the movie City Slickers is a distant memory. So for us in the dude ranching industry, what are we doing to get our name “out there” and express the benefits of vacationing on a guest ranch?  It is all about our guests. Guests that come to our ranch will be provided with good quality accommodations, food, horses and activities. But most of all, they will be treated like one of the family. In this day in age of texting, emailing and indirect/non-intimate communication, we are amazed to see our guests relish in the face to face interaction and authentic attention that guest rancher’s provide. Evenings around a campfire…just talking and listening. Knowing your children’s birth date; knowing that you just had a loss in your family; knowing that you bought a new house; knowing that you are allergic to peanuts or don’t like lamb; or knowing that you count down the days from the moment you leave our ranch until the day you will arrive next year.  These are things that bond us together.  These are the things that matter and evidence to the fact that guest rancher’s care about what they are doing and how they are doing it.  And these are the things that hopefully keep our guests talking about their ranch experience to their friends, their co-workers and people that are wondering where to go for their next vacation.  So…choose to visit a guest ranch in the near future and hopefully, the hospitality and genuine consideration that you will receive from us will make you feel that you made the right decision. ( True Grit, Buck and the fact that Modern Family will be filming on a guest ranch in Jackson Hole this summer might help too)!

Here are some links to brush up on your knowledge.

Wikipedia-Amercian Civil War

CivilWar.Com

CivilWarUSA150.com<

No, not all of it. I tend to sound more like a parrot squawking in my head and repeating, “nevermore”. I guess some things stuck from English after all. My teachers would be so proud. Here is the entire poem for those that don’t want to be stuck muttering one phrase like me.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never- nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend,” I shrieked, upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

Did I mention Poe was a little on the creepy side of life? *shivers* No? Maybe his photo can explain for itself then. Yikes.

An Insider’s Guide to Grand Teton National Park. This article is from Via magazine available through AAA. It’s a nice little insight for those who ask about GTNP and what it has to offer or what they could be missing. It’s not just what the tourists know, now you have an inside scoop from local Dina Mishev on the “six classic Grand Teton stops and the special places right near them”.

Why not find one of these special places while here and enjoy something the locals do every day?

Enjoy!

Not anymore. Bingo has become the every man’s winter sport. Alcohol, burgers, fries, and popcorn are served. People from every age and gender play.

I say sport because it gets competitive. No one wants anyone else to win. Sure, your happy for them the first time that it happens, you may even say a few encouraging words, or help them out. Winning a second time? That’s war.

People have custom bags to hold their dabbers. This of course is usually reserved for the more veteran players.

And don’t even get me started on the dabbers themselves. Lucky colors. Lucky dabber. Yes, they customize those too! It’s an easy game to begin but once you get started, be prepared to get addicted and quick.

Instead of winning the normal $15 and up pot per game, depending on the venue, as well as the big Blackout card that can have you walking away with as little as $75, and as much as $500+, if you can get Blackout in so many calls, there are theme nights as well.

Themed Bingo! events can consist of “Meat Bingo!”,where instead of money, meat is won during Thanksgiving, and gifts during Christmas for “Holiday Bingo!”. These are just a few examples of different themes that can occur and by far the less crazier of them.

So what are you waiting for? Get out there and start playing! Dabbers are available at the cashier to purchase when you pay for your Bingo! packets if not found elsewhere. Have some fun and whatever you do, don’t be late!

If you would like some simple Bingo Rules and Etiquette click on the link provided and your on your way. In a game like Bingo! these just might help you not get laughed out of the Bingo! hall or worse. Like I said, war people, it’s war.