This poem makes me smile every time I read it! A comic portrayal of one of the hardships of ranch life that brings to mind the phrase "Cowboys don't complain!"

Written about the old cabin that still sits atop Big Bar Mountain, maybe you'll come across this hidden piece of history on one of your hikes here. Anyone who has stayed there says its the coldest spot in the Cariboo.


Good Enough For A Cowboy

He hired on in the spring of the year,
With the cows he was to stay.
In the cow camp on Big Bar Mountain,
Till the range opened up in May.

The boss assured him the cabin was sound,
It was built by Grampa Roy.
At least to my way of thinkin,
It was good enough for a Cowboy.

At first glance it looked pretty skookum,
Nestled among Aspen Trees.
But on closer inspection he noticed,
The porch had quite a lean.

Descending from Old Buddy,
He approached the cabin door.
And was met by local residents,
Pack rats by the score.

Cautiously he stepped inside,
To survey his mountain home.
Guess he'd better plug the holes up,
If he wanted to live alone.

The stove was a 45 gallon drum,
The bottom filled with sand.
The hole or two that had rusted through,
He covered with lids from cans.

The cabin held two bunk beds,
One on either side.
But someone must have used the slats,
To keep the fire alive.

The door was held by just one hinge,
The window lacked two panes.
After one look at the ceiling,
He sure hoped it didn't rain.

The next few days were busy,
Checkin water holes and cattle.
In the evening with a hammer,
He fixed things that creaked and rattled.

After a meal of beans and biscuits,
It was time to hit the sack.
He filled the wood stove to the limit,
Then lay down upon his back.

It didn't seem like very long,
Till he awakened with a jerk.
A mouse had found its way back home,
And crawled inside his undershirt.

Awake and fully conscious now,
He realised he felt quite wet.
The cabin wasn't that hot,
This was definitely not sweat.

From the crack between the plywood,
The rain it fell drip, drip, drop.
In this corner of the cabin,    
But mostly on his cot.

Come next day the boss showed up,
To check on his cows and man.         
When told the cabin needed repair,
That wasn't in his plan.          

But he'd bunk with the hired hand tonight,
And this suited the cowboy fine.
He moved his bedroll to the right,
And let the boss man have his side.  

Again that night the rain it fell,
But the cowboy never awoke.
The next morning over breakfast,
The boss he hardly spoke.

A few days later up the trail,
Came the ranch truck loaded for bear.
With a new wood stove, lumber and nails,
Roofing paper and tar.

That cow camp on the mountain,
Is like most that dot this land.
Their good enough for the cowboy,
But not for the boss man.