Flying from anywhere in the world into Las Vegas is a culture shock, but to then quit it for the scrub and sagebrush of the Mojave desert is an equally dramatic assault on the senses. The sunsets may be the same, but look at that mountain horizon and, my God, those stars.
At the end of a drive to Yucca, Arizona, 200 miles south-east of Vegas, we swung through the ranch gate and climbed out to a laconic “Howdy” from a cowpoke who introduced himself as Tex, the head wrangler. In chaps, a battered Stetson and with a soup-strainer moustache, Tex immediately provided – to fans of old western movies like us – a far more thrilling encounter than anything Sin City could offer.
This trip, with my wife Linda and friends Jock and Liddy, had been a year in the planning and satisfied a long-held yearning to experience the cowboy life for a week. It had taken us a while to find a ranch that would accommodate my wheelchair and offer me the same riding experience as the rest of the group. As a relatively low-level paraplegic with some strength in my bum and thighs, I had ridden before, and didn’t anticipate any problems.
Our search led us to the Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch, which lies in 360,000 acres of government land at the foot of the Mojave and Hualapai mountains. It was initially earmarked for housing, but developers badly miscalculated the effort required to lay electricity cables or drill for water. The ranch, blessed with a power line and two wells, now lies in glorious isolation at the edge of a grid of dirt roads.
A guest or dude ranch is at the more relaxing end of the cowboy experience market: visitors just turn up at the corral on time, wearing long trousers and sensible shoes. (At a working ranch the experience is more hands-on.) This particular homestead answered my requirements because the previous owners, who have a disabled daughter, had made it fully wheelchair accessible – beyond the strict requirements of the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act).
The US takes accessibility very seriously, and the country now is generally a safe bet for a hassle-free holiday. The UK is getting there but, in my experience, a trip to most other EU countries never lacks a frisson of uncertainty. One summer, I arrived in Spain for two weeks in an “accessible” apartment only to discover the bathroom door was far too narrow for my chair.
At the ranch, a ramp led to a platform, from which I could scramble from my chair on to the comfortable western saddle. I could sling a leg over it and grab the pommel but I appreciated the help of a wrangler to help me get vertical. Once someone had put my feet in the chunky stirrups, I was handed the reins of a mustang crossbreed known as Amigo. I wasn’t there for riding lessons and the instructions I was given were limited to how to start, aim and stop the docile beast. In single file behind one of the wranglers, we headed into the desert.
I have ridden before but not with any real enthusiasm. This was different. Instead of inching my way along a busy B-road in the drizzle, wearing a hard hat and a hi-vis jacket, I was on a black-and-white pony in the wild west, riding alongside men with names like Cody who talked kinda slow and carried lariats on their saddles.
Twice each day, we ambled along well-trodden trails through the sand, up and down rocky ridges, passing cacti and sagebrush. Joshua trees were everywhere and, close to the ranch, chest-high bushes were still green from summer rains. We saw the odd deer and, now and again, one of the dogs caught a jackrabbit. At night, safe in our cabins, we regularly heard the eerie howling of a pack of coyotes.
By day three our baseball caps and fishing hats had been replaced by Stetsons – brought from a local honesty gift shop. I was far too much of an Englishman to wear mine at mealtimes, as the wranglers did, but it became an essential part of my holiday wardrobe. We wore bandanas, and I bought a couple of “weskits”, but resisted the urge to add a pair of fringed leather chaps.
Between rides, Liddy and I practised our roping skills on a dummy set of horns. Three times a day the bell outside the canteen would ring and guests and staff would gather for vittles – western fare including breakfast pancakes and steak in the evening. For dessert, JP, the ranch owner, would dole out slabs of homemade pecan or strawberry pie.
The guest rooms were spacious – our group had a two-bedroom cabin with a shared lounge. All rooms accommodate disabled guests, there are wet rooms or tubs with handrails, and a step-free environment throughout. The small swimming pool had a hoist, and there was a rail leading down into the hot tub.
Over the course of the week I sang a lot of cowboy songs. One day, to the melody of Streets of Laredo, we rode into the foothills of the Mojave mountains, following stony trails past cartoonish Saguaro cacti. We stopped in a gully for a sandwich and I dismounted using the well-known technique of collapsing into friendly arms. Later I was manhandled back on board, using the standard Dead Body Slung Over The Saddle manoeuvre. Dignity at all times.
Our rented SUV was fitted with hand-controls, so I drove us all along the southern rim of the Grand Canyon (on a 400-mile day trip) rather than scramble on and off the tour buses.
At the end of our last full day at Stagecoach Trails, the Rough Riders – our new gang name – rode out as the sun eased down over the mountains. We felt on top of the world in our hats, bandanas and cowboy work shirts – though I knew that 30 hours later at Gatwick we would look completely ridiculous.
• Virgin Atlantic flies from Gatwick to Las Vegas from £544 return. Stays at Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch (+1-928-727-8270, stagecoachtrailsranch.com), cost from $150pp per night, including all meals and two rides each day (except Sundays). SUV rental from Alamo costs about £400 a week. Entry to the Grand Canyon South Rim costs $25 per vehicle
More accessible trips for adventurous types
Wilderness Inquiry (wildernessinquiry.org) welcomes guests with disabilities. Its six-day camping experience in the Colorado Rockies costs $1,695pp, not including flights to Denver. This non-profit organisation also offers activities such as rafting and dogsledding. One September, I canoed through the sea caves of Lake Superior and recall excellent food and company – and snow. I failed to take enough warm clothes or a thick-enough camping mat. For horseriding adventures elsewhere in the US, visit duderanch.org, which has ranches listed by state.
In the UK, the Calvert Trust ( calvert-trust.org.uk) runs gentler riding adventures at its centres in Exmoor and Keswick in the Lake District. Instructors are British Horse Society and Riding for the Disabled Association qualified, and can take people of all abilities riding or trap-driving, from £13.25pp. Until November, it has Horse Experience weekends on Exmoor from £265pp.
The Back-Up Trust (backuptrust.org.uk) has many years of experience offering adventure holidays for people with spinal-cord injuries. Sit-skiing is its forte (it runs a winter trip to Colorado), but it also runs multi-activity trips, with kayaking, abseiling and archery among others.
The Scuba Trust (scubatrust.org.uk) runs accessible diving courses and holidays to overseas sites: next month, it’s running a trip to Marsa Alam in Egypt. Several schools, particularly on the Red Sea, are waking up to the growing demand for accessible scuba diving. Try scubatravel.com or cameldive.com.
The Jubilee Sailing Trust (jst.org.uk) is sending its tall ships (the TS Lord Nelson and the TS Tenacious) on voyages around the UK and to the Canary Islands and Caribbean this winter. Both vessels are accessible and its permanent crew is supplemented by 40 trainees, many of whom may have disabilities. You can sign on for a single trip between ports or take on the whole voyage. Funding for berths may be available.
• The UK organisations featured are also non-profit and welcome financial support
Browse The Guardian’s selection of horse riding holidays on the Guardian Holidays website
