Gibb River Hilton – Part 9 “I wanna be a cowboy … baby …”

There is just something about a man in an Akubra Hat, a pair of cowboy boots and tight jeans that does something for me.  I just can’t help it.  Ever since I discovered Dan Brodie and the Broken Arrows, I’ve just had this love of all things “cowboy”.  And so you can imagine how excited I was while on the big adventure with Mr W. when I saw my first Ringer.  Hell yeah.

Now you may think I’m being disrespectful to poor old Mr W., however he knows that I know where my bread is buttered.  Plus, despite the fact that he has been known to wear an Akubra Hat, he has said a flat out no to pulling on the tight jeans and cowboy boots.  Party pooper.  So I have to fulfill my cowboy fantasies somewhere else.

Actually I think my obssession with cowboys makes him laugh more than anything.  He just doesn’t get it.  Take for example our helicopter pilot at El Questro station.  I happened to lay eyes on him at the bar … tight jeans, check … Akubra Hat , check … boots, check … rollies in the top pocket, check.  Not only was he a Ringer, he was also a copter pilot.  Mr W. thought it was hillarious that I was drooling over a man who had a monobrow.  My response?  Wax.

Now that you know about my cowboy obssession, you can also understand the excitement at buying my first Akubra hat.  It literally didn’t leave my head.  I had to buy the one called the “Rough Rider” … it fulfilled all my cowboy/cowgirl fantasies.  Mr W. just rolled his eyes as he watched me wonder around wearing an Akubra and thinking I was some cowgirl coming straight off a muster.  A girl can dream can’t she?

I wanna be a cowgirl ... baby ...

I actually think he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him when I asked the lady at the “rural clothing” store how I could clean my Akubra.  She looked at me blankly … “why do you want to clean it?”.  I looked at her as if she had just asked me why I wear stilettos!  Apparently, you don’t clean Akubras.  Just another lesson I can chalk up to experience.  And so my cream Akubra will remain stained with red dust … a momento of the cattle musters in my mind.

Now all I have to do is get Mr W. to understand my love of country music (again, it’s mainly the cowboy thing) and we might actually get somewhere.

pp xx

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