My Camel Racing Cowboy Hat
I am proud to be a card-carrying member of the International Order of Camel Jockeys, an honor reserved only for the very brave—and the very insane. I found out about camel racing back in 1989 when I was a teenager working at a saloon up in Virginia City, Nevada. I was the waitress and my dad was the bartender at the old Long Branch Saloon and we ran the place for an entire winter.
Camel racing in historic Virginia City has been a tradition since the first races were organized by the gold miners during the Gold Rush era in the 1860’s. Virginia City is an authentic mining town that’s been completely restored in Old West splendor and was a primary location for the TV show, Bonanza. The International Camel Racing World Championship is held there every year and attracts thousands of spectators. Anyone can enter the races after attending ‘camel boot camp’, a short training session with the camel handlers. Those who make it through the first and second days of elimination races get to compete in the world championship race on Sunday.
After a weekend trip to Virginia City a couple of years ago, I decided that it would be fun to race camels for one of the charities I volunteer with. Looking back on it now, that decision was the most severe, “what was I thinking?” moment of my life. As I walked out to the track to run my first race, I was thinking, “what in the hell am I doing this for?” I was numb with terror and my knees felt like rubber. But all of my friends, not to mention a pretty big arena crowd were watching and there was no way I could wimp out after coming this far.
As I got on the camel, it made a terrifying noise, kind of like a Wookie, but much more guttural and I had a pretty bad feeling about this camel racing business. Before I knew it, I was flying down the track at 35 mph on 1700 pounds of camel—and I was winning the race!
It was thrilling to actually stay on the camel and cross the finish line in first place. But that was when the trouble began. In the moment I threw the reins to the handler, my camel went insane and decided to scrape me off on the fence. She slammed her body against the rails and I lifted my leg just before it was crushed. With both feet out of the stirrups now, my camel managed to bust off the straps on the saddle, sending me tumbling off her 9 foot high hump into the dirt on my butt. All I remember is watching the camel trample the saddle I’d been sitting in just a second earlier. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life and a moment that I wouldn’t trade for the world. “Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled to the camel as she charged off in a cloud of dust. Then the handlers dragged me off the track to safety.
I retired from camel racing after that one race, but I still go up for the Virginia City Camel Races with my charity every year.
My camel racing cowboy hat stays in my office and I like to wear it when I’m writing. That crazy hat with the pink snakeskin hatband and the camel racing logo reminds me to take chances, to get dirty every once in a while and most importantly, to live life with a vengeance.
Bluebird
I am proud to be a card-carrying member of the International Order of Camel Jockeys, an honor reserved only for the very brave—and the very insane. I found out about camel racing back in 1989 when I was a teenager working at a saloon up in Virginia City, Nevada. I was the waitress and my dad was the bartender at the old Long Branch Saloon and we ran the place for an entire winter.
Camel racing in historic Virginia City has been a tradition since the first races were organized by the gold miners during the Gold Rush era in the 1860’s. Virginia City is an authentic mining town that’s been completely restored in Old West splendor and was a primary location for the TV show, Bonanza. The International Camel Racing World Championship is held there every year and attracts thousands of spectators. Anyone can enter the races after attending ‘camel boot camp’, a short training session with the camel handlers. Those who make it through the first and second days of elimination races get to compete in the world championship race on Sunday.
After a weekend trip to Virginia City a couple of years ago, I decided that it would be fun to race camels for one of the charities I volunteer with. Looking back on it now, that decision was the most severe, “what was I thinking?” moment of my life. As I walked out to the track to run my first race, I was thinking, “what in the hell am I doing this for?” I was numb with terror and my knees felt like rubber. But all of my friends, not to mention a pretty big arena crowd were watching and there was no way I could wimp out after coming this far.
As I got on the camel, it made a terrifying noise, kind of like a Wookie, but much more guttural and I had a pretty bad feeling about this camel racing business. Before I knew it, I was flying down the track at 35 mph on 1700 pounds of camel—and I was winning the race!
It was thrilling to actually stay on the camel and cross the finish line in first place. But that was when the trouble began. In the moment I threw the reins to the handler, my camel went insane and decided to scrape me off on the fence. She slammed her body against the rails and I lifted my leg just before it was crushed. With both feet out of the stirrups now, my camel managed to bust off the straps on the saddle, sending me tumbling off her 9 foot high hump into the dirt on my butt. All I remember is watching the camel trample the saddle I’d been sitting in just a second earlier. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life and a moment that I wouldn’t trade for the world. “Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled to the camel as she charged off in a cloud of dust. Then the handlers dragged me off the track to safety.
I retired from camel racing after that one race, but I still go up for the Virginia City Camel Races with my charity every year.
My camel racing cowboy hat stays in my office and I like to wear it when I’m writing. That crazy hat with the pink snakeskin hatband and the camel racing logo reminds me to take chances, to get dirty every once in a while and most importantly, to live life with a vengeance.
Bluebird
0 comments:
Post a Comment