This Is My First Rodeo

The tiny outback town of Tibooburra, renowned for being the hottest place in NSW, hosts an annual gymkhana, bikekhana and rodeo each Spring. 

As a fresh-to-the-outback, former city-slicker, I had to know whether the rodeo experience lived up to my romantic yet uninformed idea of it: a blur of line dancing, cowboy boots and men getting thrown off bulls.

The three day event began with a tried-and-true precursor to any outback event: a beer-fuelled Friday night at the two pubs in town, The Two Storey and The Family Hotel across the road. 

I made the most of the opportunity to have a yarn with a few self-proclaimed rodeo regulars, who explained to me the basics: The Gymkhana is for horse events, The Bikekhana is essentially the same thing on bikes, and the most fun is on Saturday night when thrill-seeking cowboys and cowgirls decide to try their luck at riding the bull. 

One of my new friends at the pub told me he was ‘clowning’ this year. 

For the uninitiated, being a Rodeo Clown essentially means you’re the guy who has to distract the bucking bulls while the rider who fell off gets the heck out of the ring. 

It also means you provide entertainment to onlookers by occasionally riling up the bulls if nothing dramatic has happened in a while. 

This particular clown had rode the bull last year and shut down the whole event when he fell off and broke his shoulder and ribs. 

Tibooburra doesn’t have a hospital and is serviced by a Royal Flying Doctors plane. 

Unfortunately there’s only one plane available at any given time, so if you’re the second person to injure yourself at the rodeo they have no choice but to cancel the event entirely for everyone's safety. I began doubting my decision to partake in the spectacle of watching poor, angry bulls injure ambitious and seemingly foolish riders, so far from a hospital. 

Saturday morning began with bacon and egg rolls from the rodeo tuckshop, instant coffee, and the children’s Gymkhana. 

The first age group was six years and under which saw tiny toddlers riding tiny ponies, and some riding full sized horses. 

In the 12-16 year old event I watched a young cowboy get thrown from his horse, dragged through the dirt by the reins, only to climb right back on and continue to compete.

The rodeo was certainly living up to its reputation.

More horse riding events including the classics like barrels (riding in a pattern around three barrels),  bending, flag and the 200metre sprint ensued throughout the afternoon, as more beers were consumed by increasingly noisy onlookers. Bull handlers began directing bulls into the ring beside us.

Just as the sun began to set everyone wandered over to the stands in anticipation for the rodeo. 

Cowboys dressed in jeans, boots and leather chaps leaned against the metal fence behind the bullpen, waiting for their time to ride. 

To my surprise, the rodeo began with ‘mini bulls’, which looked far too similar to the full sized bulls, being ridden by children as young as seven. Most of the kids handled the experience surprisingly well, once again getting straight up and dusting the red dirt off their jeans. 

Things began to pick up pace when the large, especially rowdy bulls were brought out for the adults to ride, and I watched in horror (and pleasure if I’m being real) as full size men were thrown from the bulls, one of which went back to lie on top of the cowboy who had just fallen off him (he was fine! Apparently.)

After the rodeo the band kicked off and everyone danced, although I didn’t get to make my rodeo line-dancing debut because apparently that isn’t something that happens at the rodeo, or this one anyway.

Sunday saw a similar morning as the one before; bacon and egg rolls and a slightly seedier crowd than the day before watching small children ride dirt bikes around an obstacle course, followed by the adults. After the bike events punters either packed up their swags or headed to the pub to relish in the glory of the rodeo.

Now that I’ve had a taste of the outback rodeo I plan to attend many more, if for no other reason than an excuse to wear my cowboy boots and pretend I’m a real cowboy and not a naive city girl. At least next time it won’t be my first rodeo.