How did a trip to a Colorado ranch help my grief?

This remote stretch follows the eastern edge of the enigmatic San Luis Valley, framed by the high Sangre de Cristo Mountains, about 3.5 hours west of Denver. Zapata Ranch is where I plan to end up.

For years, I’d been following the ranch’s Instagram

flagle

feed, fascinated by the photographs of the country and its fauna — in particular, the bison — not to mention, the trendy wrangler outfit. Again, I had found isolation, just as I had on my drive along California’s Highway 1.

After my mother passed away a few months earlier, I had a severe case of the blues and sought out an intense experience of nature to help me heal. Since my mother had a soft spot for the Cristo mountains and horses in general, I felt it was only right to visit there with her. The American West appealed — not just for its low-tech, don’t-watch-the-clock manners, but also for that languid, old-timey nostalgia.

Zapata Ranch, owned by The Nature Conservancy and managed by the conservation-minded Ranchlands, includes more than 100,000 acres, including a spread of 2,000 free-roaming wild bison, 300 cattle, and a herd of working horses. (A few hours north of Ranchlands is the 87,000-acre Chico Basin Ranch, where visitors may learn about modern ranching techniques like branding, welding, and repairing fences.)

Pulling up, I was impressed by the simplicity of the 15-room home. The main house, a historic homesteader from the 1800s, was a great fit for its natural surroundings, which included tall cottonwood trees. There were soft couches, well-used field guides, and braided rugs in the little living space. A tiny shop selling high-end leather goods (from Chico Basin), wrangler-approved hats with brims made of palm leaves in Guatemala, and organic lavender items from New Mexico’s Los Poblanos line the patio behind the picnic tables. Bison and trout (from the adjacent Arkansas River) and local fruits and vegetables from Delta and Del Norte, Colorado, were served in the dining room, which had picture windows and long wooden tables, as a reference to the ranch’s organic richness.

Ranchlands is not somewhere you find yourself randomly. Most visitors found it when looking for something else to do than golf or go to a spa. Without a doubt, I was among a daring group of people. In preparation for the Mongol Derby, the world’s longest horse race across the Mongolian steppe, a father and daughter set off on a training journey. A few days later, I met a lady from Munich who was also here on her own for the first time who wanted to find a western riding program where she could immerse herself in her passion for a week. Mimi and Woody, two hilarious Colorado natives, were my dinner companions, and they told me everything about their experience climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in between portions of chicken taquitos and cauliflower rice. I learned that most people were here because they share my enthusiasm for horseback riding, travel, and environmental responsibility.