Normally there is nothing on earth that would make a sane British male put on cowboy boots and a 10-gallon hat. But you've only got to arrive at a dude ranch to realise that, frankly, in anything else you would look completely stupid. So the first thing I had to do when we arrived at the Laramie River Ranch in northern Colorado was to pick out a nifty pair of grey boots plus a huge broad-brimmed hat. Of course I looked idiotic, but - and this is the important thing, - I looked idiotic in a wholly appropriate sort of way.
A dude ranch is basically a resort, Club Med with horses. We'd gone there because two families told us they'd had the best holidays of their lives at dude ranches, and having tried it we understand why. You don't just ride, although there's probably not a whole lot of point in going if you can't stand the sight or smell of horses. But there are plenty of other things to do, such as hiking, fishing, roping, camping, singing, square dancing, volleyball, bird and wildlife-spotting, river-riding on tubes, toasting marshmallows round the old campfire, and eating.
In fact there is a lot of eating. The ranches vie with each other to provide delicious food in vast, unnerving, American quantities - huge steaks, mountains of fried chicken, barbecued ribs stacked like the struts of a suspension bridge, and breakfasts so immense that you totter from the table wondering how you'll reach the door, never mind climb up into your saddle. Usually everything you eat is included in the price, so at most ranches you don't need to put your hand in your pocket from the moment you arrive till the day you leave. However it's a good idea to bring your own booze, especially as several states, including Colorado, don't sell alcohol in shops on a Sunday. And we were 50 minutes' drive from the nearest liquor store.
The first of the two ranches we visited was King Mountain, two hours north-west of Denver. It's a vast resort ranch with tennis courts, a swimming pool, bowling alley, and an airstrip if you choose to arrive by plane. This is Indian territory, literally, since the ranch - at one time a combined fishing lodge and bordello - was bought in 1993 by Baljit Nanda, an Indian from the sub-continent rather than the reservation, who had studied at business school and started making his fortune when he bought a bankrupt mushroom farm.
As with almost all dude ranches, King Mountain focuses on riding. While we were there Frank Bell, a real-life horse whisperer and very much like the one played by Robert Redford, paid us a visit. "The guy in the book and the movie wasn't based on me," Frank said, "but he sure as hell was good for business."
Unlike traditional horse training, which starts from the notion that they are wild creatures who need obedience battered into them, horse whispering involves kindness. Horses are prey animals (they have set-apart eyes which can see nearly 360 degrees; we hunters have two eyes together so we can judge distances in stereo.) For a prey animal the worst thing in the world is to have something jump on your back, so you soothe them by stroking and caressing and patting the parts where they can't easily get rid of flies.
That evening, after a dinner that involved cooking our own fabulous tender steaks on the barbecue, we assembled in the bar for drinks and chat and games. One of the pleasures of dude ranching is instant, spray-on friendship. You meet people you will probably never encounter again in your life, but the experiences of the day give you so much in common that they temporarily become your oldest and dearest friends. And, of course, Americans are warm and courteous in a way we British seem to have forgotten.
After two days we drove over the high, rain-sodden plains of Colorado to the Laramie River Ranch. The river, named after a French trapper, Jacques la Ramie, murdered by American Indians, runs through the property. The ranch was smaller and simpler than King Mountain, which gave it a cosy intimacy. By the end of the first day, we knew all the staff, including the owners, Bill and Krista Burleigh, and the wranglers, young men and women who look after the horses and take you riding.
You are given your own horse for the week. Mine was called Murdoch, who made a habit of taking good, nutritious material in at one end, and expelled it in the form of noisome gas from the other. After one long ride, my 11-year old son, who had been downwind of Murdoch, announced that the poor beast had farted 17 times.
The views were sensational. One glorious morning we had climbed up Crazy Mountain, just outside the ranch, and looked through the clear, sage-scented air down into the valley, saw the lines of willow following the course of the river, the herds of buffalo grazing on the slopes, and reflected that apart from the dirt tracks, the view must have looked almost as it did when the first native Americans arrived from across the Alaska landbridge.
Dude ranches are a long tradition in the US. Originally people from the crowded industrial east would come by train to join friends and family in the west. Then as now there was an element of fantasy, of an Elysian retreat from the corrupt city to the unspoiled land. For years tradition dictated that the hospitality was free, but as economic problems grew in the West, commerce crept in. In 1882 Bert Rumbold of Buffalo, New York, signed the guest register in a North Dakota ranch, and agreed to pay $10 for a week's room, board and use of horse. Of course, prices are rather higher now.
We had a fabulous time. There were trail rides out to glorious picnic spots, where we ate buffalo burgers and watched the coyote and mountain sheep. One night we went to a campsite, high in the mountains, where Bill grilled steaks and we drank cold beers as dusk fell. We watched the lights of Laramie, Wyoming, shine miles away in the valley.
There really are cowboys, too, because the Japanese have yet to invent a machine for transferring large numbers of cattle from one place to another. One lunchtime we were riding back to the ranch, when a herd went thundering past us. Cowboys may still whoop it up on Saturday nights, but most of them these days are solid family men - and women. But they still dress in the same old way, except with designer sunglasses. One guy with five-day stubble, a black hat, a red spotted bandana, leather chaps and a bullwhip went pounding past us. Just as he reached my wife, he turned round, smiled, and said "Boo!"
It's a great trip for kids, too. Ours had lessons in ice cream making, tie-dying T-shirts, volleyball, square dancing, nature walks, and they roasted marshmallows at the camp fire. They came for late-night walks and watched the brilliantly vivid night sky, and they played games in the lodge. (Our kids insisted on being able to use English spelling at Scrabble. At one point I heard an American voice rumble: "I never done heard of that word spelled that way before...")
It's worth shopping around for your ideal ranch. We popped over for a fact-finding visit to the neighbouring Raweh ranch, run by a couple from New York, who turned every evening into a boisterous cocktail party. They had several British families there, some of whom come every year. They also had a cowboy poet to entertain us. That sounds embarrassing but it's not; in fact, it is a recognised art form these days, largely because long days on the trail give the composers lots of time to polish each poem to perfection.
The trick is probably to find your ranch on the internet, balancing price and setting, and facilities. If something isn't mentioned, it won't be there, so decide if you must have tennis courts or a pool. Some specialise in children, and will make that clear. Others - like the Old Glendovey Lodge, which we visited, and which is mainly for hunters - rarely have any.
Whatever happens, you're unlikely to be disappointed. It's an exhilarating, exuberant holiday, and our lot can't wait to go again.
The practicals
British Airways (0845 7733377 www.british-airways.com) flies from Gatwick to Denver. As an example, a return fare for two adults, two children costs around £1,977.
Simon Hoggart and his family were guests of the Laramie River Ranch, 25777 County Rd 103, Jelm, Wyoming, 82063, US. Phone: (001) 970 435 5716, vacation@LRRanch.com,www.LRRanch.com. Price (including lodging, meals and riding): $1,475 in peak season per adult per week, reductions for children. King Mountain Ranch, PO Box 497, Granby, Colorado, 80446, US, phone (001) 970 887 2511, hosts@kingranchresort.com. Price: $250 a day in peakseason, more if you stay less than a week. They also visited the Rawah Ranch, Glendevey, Colorado Route 11447, N County Rd 103, Jelm, Wyoming, 82063. All members of the Colorado Dude & Guest Ranch Association can be found on www.coloradoranch.com
• Who flies where? Direct flights from the UK to the US
