West by Southwest Ernie Bulow

to create a bull riding only event, that upped the ante in both bringing some of the nastiest bulls in the county to ride, while paying out over $28,000 to those brave enough to mount them?

The answer is simple: Larry Peterson.

Born and raised in Gallup, Larry attended Gallup High School and tried his hand at wrestling and baseball but neither sport seemed to offer the challenge and intensity his heart was seeking. At age 19 he found a more fitting endeavor when he became a sponsored motocross racer for Husqvarna motorcycles. Fittingly, he raced a 400cc 2-stroke bike in the open class where his light weight could halfwheelie the bike from the line through three gear shifts, often getting him the hole shot in the races he competed in throughout the southwest.

While his motocross career was successful and satisfyingly intense, he soon found a new passion when a few of his friends invited him to try riding a bull at some small rodeos in the Gallup area. He soon gave up motocross and put his energies into figuring what it took to ride a bull. Larry describes the process of breaking into the realm of becoming a true bull rider as “Waking up.” He says, “After riding 70-80 bulls, there came a time when I was suddenly very present and aware of everything that was happening on those few seconds of a ride. There was no more fear or ‘what if’ thoughts, all that was turned off, and there was no dream or fog like on previous rides. I was totally awake.”

Larry improved as a bull rider and entered more competitive events throughout the region. When asked what his best ride was, he is quick to say, “The best rides aren’t those at the biggest event or that make the most money, but it is really about that particular bull, that day, and that moment.” But with that said, Larry adds, “My best ride was at the White River Arizona Rodeo in 1988 when I drew an incredible bull and I rode him. That bull put me in surgery the next week, but I rode him and I won.” Larry then stood up and showed me the buckle from that event that he happened to be wearing. riding only event for Gallup. As his personal bull riding career peaked, he found there is another term that bull riders use besides “waking up” and it is called “losing heart.” He explained that “losing heart” is the moment that a bull rider realizes that wanting to ride that bull more than anything else in life has faded. Larry said that he began to “lose heart” when, “a 2000 lb. bull named ‘Calgary Snow’ rolled on him and broke four ribs, four other bones, his nose, and tailbone.

In 1993 Larry took the leap and started the first “Wild Thing.” He says it was a really tough first five years trying to stay financially viable and dealing with an event that was also at the mercy of the weather. But around year ten, he got a big boost. “At that time the Bull Riders TV Network began filming open bull riding events and showing us on television. We were often ranked between #1 and #3 in the country for open bull riding events. That really helped us,” Larry explained.

Now in year 26, Larry says with pride, “I’m very thankful for my family who helps me run the event every year, even though many of them now live in Texas, and I am also thankful for the great sponsors that are super faithful - without them it doesn’t happen.”

As part of giving back to the community, the “WildThing” allows the Manuelito Children’s Home to run the parking and concessions which provide the organization with its largest fund-raising event each year. It’s not a random connection as Larry’s dad helped found the children’s home, and Larry himself remembers as a kid spending time with other kids from the home in his early years. So he is proud to help and carries a place in his heart for the mission and love the home offers.

This year’s WildThing Championship Bull Riding events take place July 12th and 13th. Tickets are $25 at the gate or you can pre-purchase discounted tickets at Castle Furniture, T&R, and Rico Auto Complex.

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THE BASQUES REALLY KNOW THEIR SHEEP THE BASQUES REALLY KNOW THEIR SHEEP How do you herd two thousand woolies in one flock? How do you herd two thousand woolies in one flock?

The commercial sheep business started in California during the gold rush. Basques were brought over to this country as herders, but soon became the most iconic of sheep raisers. The Basques are one of those small groups without a country, like the Kurds. They speak a language isolate with no relatives, like Zuni, though they are located half in Spain and half in France. I knew Basques who spoke four languages, Spanish, French, English, and their native Basque.

My high school days (high school was still four years) were spent in Ely, Nevada, one hundred twenty miles from anywhere. A place remarkably like Gallup years ago, with mines and the men who had been brought in to work them. In high school I would sit in a class with Kranovich on one side and Papazoglou on the other. Even then they were shortening it to Papas. Ely also had the smallest official Indian reservation—one square block.

I was more than aware of the Basques and had dealings with several of them. Most I knew were small, but very muscular and they were hard workers. Nevada doesn’t have the most sheep, but I think it only trails Texas in numbers. I believe it does have the most Basques including an ex-governor.

Ely, like most towns in northern Nevada, had its own

BASQUE SHEEPHERDER AND HIS FOUR DOGS. MUTTS ALL.

Cowboys claimed their coffee would float a horseshoe, but the Basque brew would spit the shoe back at you.

BELTRAN PARIS - 88 IN 1974

ERNIE TOOK ON MAX BAER-1948

West by Southwest

by Ernie Bulow

ASPEN ART WASN’T USUALLY DATED Basque hotel and dining room. You could eat there if seats were open. The food was served family style, in huge bowls, and sometimes there were three or four different meats. Just serve yourself. Some of their food was exotic, but my favorite was a cross between cube steak and sauerbraten but without the ginger snaps, as I recall, and it was aged in something with lots of Basque spices. They also have their own kind of bread and make cheese out of sheep milk.

Of course, they have their own folk costume, dances, and music. The only time I saw this was at weddings. There is a wonderful Basque musical instrument called the tlaxaparta. Picture a stone xylophone struck with vertical sticks (small logs). There is another version but the keys are thick pieces of wood, pounded on the same way. Amazing the music they can make.

I was deer hunting once when I came upon a Basque camp about half way up this mountain. It was dark and cold and they invited me to stop for coffee. Their ideas of a brew was to take the lid off the can of grounds, add as much water as it would take, then plop it in the fire until

ASPEN ART DEER HEAD it boiled over. Cowboys bragged their coffee would float a horseshoe, but this Basque brew would just spit the shoe back at you.

It was a tough climb and at first light I was almost to the peak. Down below one of the men left the camp and took the same trail I had. I swear he beat me to the top. These are men whose homeland is the Pyrenees mountains, but they still called the Ruby Mountains in Elko County “man killers.” I don’t know why.

One of the most famous Basques in the country was Beltran Paris, a family friend. Paris was unusually large, especially for Basques who are usually compact, but muscular. He ruled the ranch like an oldworld patriarch and his word was law. Beltran Paris was large enough to be the subject of a biography. My brother worked on their ranch,

INTERIOR OF A SHEEP CAMP WAGON which included land around springs that they owned, and about a hundred thousand acres of range. That’s a lot of range and BLM was a dirty word in Nevada.

With seventy thousand sheep, they needed that much rangeland. I checked that figure with my brother and that’s what they counted. They were herded in flocks of two thousand. My brother once saw one herd pass through the middle of another, and none of the sheep changed herds, they just followed the bell-wearer. Apparently, each bell had a slightly different sound.

Which brings us to Basque sheep dogs. The most incredible creatures in the world. I am told there is an actual breed, but it’s a late addition to the registry. They are yellow with pointy ears, not too large, pretty dog looking. I never saw such an animal in Nevada.

There would only be a couple-three with each herd, but they were amazing. Any old dog would do, though larger ones were better. The sheepherder must have talked nice to them because they learned to herd with only hand gestures. Obviously with a herd that size, they couldn’t use voice commands. Sure, other places like Australia can claim the same, but these dogs were special.

One herder I knew taught his mutt to catch jackrabbits. Most dogs try to follow the zig zag course of the bunny, and they seldom catch one. He taught this dog some special signals and it would run straight through and catch the rabbit every time. At the home ranch, grandpa Paris kept some large, mean, greyhounds. Those dogs only had one purpose, to catch and kill coyotes.

These days some folks claim that coyotes don’t really bother livestock, but I’ve seen a film shot in northern Nevada showing several coyotes killing sheep for sport. The coyotes pulled down animal after animal, ripping their throats. They didn’t eat any of them, just killed them.

Being alone in the woods gave rise to a couple of well documented art forms. One was cuts on aspen trees, the other piles of rocks. The white bark of the aspen turns black when abraded. The more time that passes the more scab-like the marks. Often the images were just names, or local wildlife. Of course, there were plenty of attempts at the female figure, emphasizing aspects of the feminine anatomy. There is at least one book on the subject.

The other things are called “stone boys,” piles of rocks that are sometimes just piled up - other times quite artfully stacked. Once it was believed these were some sort of markers, but they are often found in the open, even barren, land; country with no aspen

trees to occupy the time.

With herds of two thousand, there were two sheepherders, partly to give aid if one was injured and otherwise to share the chores. It isn’t clear how much company they were for each other. They stayed out for months at a time. The supply truck came once a week, and their next rendezvous was set. Most of them I knew smoked, but the cigarettes came out of their pay, not with the supplies.

This kind of isolation does things to a man and the Basques had a term that translates as “struck by sagebrush.” Such a man became reclusive and anti-social, not somebody to mess with. I imagine spending life with two thousand sheep, a couple of dogs, and an old horse might do that to you.

CLASSIC GYPSY WAGON SIX PEOPLE WERE LIVING IN THIS WAGON