Day two of our Omak Stampede trip began much like the first: three men bickered about things that do not really matter. However, as Jessie has mentioned before, our relationships and interactions with one another are what are suffering most in our family's battle with cancer and Friday morning our frustrations were manifesting themselves in pointless arguments.
We were able to put our egos aside long enough to leave the hotel around 10:30 AM. We headed north from Omak to the town of Riverside, the only true "one-horse town" I think I have visited besides Helmville, Montana. The "downtown" of Riverside was barely one block long and consisted of a western store, a convenience store, and a tiny park. The western store, Detro's, was the purpose for our visit. My dad had stumbled upon Detro's during a hunting trip to the Okanogan area in the fall and had been raving about the store for months. I was a little skeptical, but when we arrived, I found that the store lived up to the hype. Detro's was selling Wrangler jeans, western-style shirts, cowboy boots, cowboy hats, lassos, saddles, western-style jewelry, paintings, castings, etc.; and all of these products were of high quality. I also found out that Detro's has a reputation as a world-class western store with all of the "cowpolk" that pass through the Okanogan region; I highly suggest that anyone passing through Riverside stop to explore Detro's.
From Riverside we traveled a few miles further north to the home of Steve Ayers. My dad knows Steve through one of his hunting partners and has hunted on land owned by Steve for several years. This man is a real cowboy. He wore cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, and a straw cowboy hat. His skin looked like leather, worn from years of working long days in the unforgiving sun and he told stories that related the challenges of raising free range cattle and harvesting his crop of hay on the thousands of acres his family owned. As I listened to him talk, some part of me envied Steve and the life he leads; what a thrill it would be to live as an American cowboy, the heroic symbol of the "Wild West."
As we made our visit, I thought about why my dad had insisted that we go to see Steve; it seemed to me that he and Steve were no more than casual acquaintances that shared some common hunting experiences. Nonetheless, it made my dad extremely happy to have the opportunity to talk with someone that is not one of his children or his dog. An enormous smile covered his face during our visit and he was delighted to relate all of the events of the past year of his life, even though most of his stories were about hospital stays. The more I thought about it, I realized that this was an exercise of my dad's practice of constant networking. Any time we are out in public and he recognizes someone, even someone he knows only casually, he flags them down to talk. This is a practice that was key to his professional success when he was working and that has helped him to create an extensive pool of friends that have provided him with unlimited support and love during this trying time in his life. My siblings and I often criticize him when he encourages us to do the same, however I am beginning to understand more and more the importance of this practice.
From Steve's home, we traveled a little further north to the town of Tonasket, where we ate lunch at Whistlers Family Restaurant; this was a step up from the meal we had eaten at the Koala Street Bar and Grill the night before. We then traveled back down to Omak and took a short rest in our hotel before heading downtown to grab a quick snack and drink before the rodeo (yes, we ate a lot on this trip) at Mickey's Chuckwagon Cafe and Watering Hole on Omak's Main Street. There was a poster for Pendleton Whiskey in the window of the cafe and as our hotel also had a plethora of advertisements for Pendleton Whiskey, I had developed quite a hankering for the drink by this time (I guess mass advertising was effective in this instance!). I asked the waitress for a shot of Pendleton in a glass, "neat." I do not know if she misunderstood me or if this place only served liquor one way, but when she delivered my drink, it came in a plastic medicine cup like the ones from which I used to drink Robitussin. Needless to say, it was the worst whiskey drink I have ever had; I think I made it even worse by trying to sip it and savor the taste.
After leaving Mickey's, we headed down to the Stampede grounds. We were still very early for the rodeo, so we ate again (yes, again) and then followed our ears to a stage with live music. The band was a worship band from a local church and though that type of music generally does not appeal to me, I was impressed by the musicianship of the band members. They were primarily teenagers, but the lead guitarist and drummer were both really skillful with their instruments; I would not be too surprised if this group reached at least regional or state-wide fame someday.
By the time the music finished, the grandstands had opened so we headed to our seats. Unfortunately, I misjudged the location of the section in which we were sitting and we had to walk all the way around the rodeo grounds twice, which made my father quite unhappy; he was exhausted by the time we were finally seated.
The rodeo was quite enjoyable. I had only been to one other before, at the Puyallup Fairgrounds, and was particularly excited to see the bull riding, as previously I had only ever seen one person last the full eight seconds on a bull's back. It was also intriguing to be present for a piece of "down-home," American culture. The MC for the event would frequently ask the crowd if they were proud to be American and used the phrases "God Bless y'all" or "God bless [a certain person]" often. There was also a presentation to honor the men and women of the military that produced an enthusiastic reaction from the crowd. I grew up around a lot of "country folk" as a result of my dad's involvement in the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation and many Octobers spent hunting in Washington's forests. However, lately, I believe I have become more of a modern city boy after focusing on music and academics in high school, attending a private liberals arts college, and working in the city of Federal Way for a year. I gained a lot of perspective on where I am and from where I have come while watching the rodeo.
Each rodeo during the Omak Stampede concludes with a running of the "World Famous" Suicide Race. The suicide race consists of approximately 12-20 horse and rider pairs that race a few hundred feet down an extremely steep dirt hill, plunge into the river at the bottom, swim across the river, and then sprint into the rodeo stadium on the other side. The whole event lasts approximately five minutes, but is exhilarating nonetheless. Our seats were not ideal for viewing the entire race, but we could see the horses and riders sprinting down the hill. As the horse and rider pairs entered the stadium, each appeared indifferent to the results of the race and thankful to have survived; there was at least one rider hurt while crossing the river.
We returned to our hotel around 10 PM, thoroughly exhausted. We had experienced a fun, full day together and were looking forward to one more in Omak.
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