Passage A: Badluck Way, Sun Ranch
The narrator recounts his year working on the remote Sun Ranch in southwest Montana, living
the life of a modern day cowboy and learning more about himself and the land.
When the sun dropped behind the highest ridge of Gravelly Range, I sat on my front porch
watching daylight quit the valley. In April, at three thousand metres, night came quickly. Once
the sun winked out of sight, the day’s hard, pale light and meagre heat poured across the western
horizon in a torrent. Warm colours went first and fastest, balling up in an eddy of red, orange and
ochre before slipping from view. I imagined those hues flowing across The Gravellies to glint on
the small-town storefronts of Twin Bridges and reflect in the slow oxbow lakes of Beaverhead
River. I pictured them gaining speed as they fled westward, skipping like stones across
mountains, valleys, mountains and on to the sea.
I was alone in the cold crystalline night, thirty kilometres from a town of any consequence,
staring out across the seldom-travelled gravel path that we on Sun Ranch called Badluck Way.
The failing light made it easy to remember the land as it had looked in the summer. In my mind’s
eye the land glowed golden under a late July sun. Tall, drying bunch grass bent against the wind
and fed the ranch’s vast herds of cattle. Above it all wolves, grizzlies and other wild creatures
made endless, inscrutable loops across the ridges and valleys.
The bustle and toil of life in August – long days on horseback and barbed wire fence work – had
raised a thick network of scabs and scars on my hands. Some of the scars remained but they were
the least of the high season’s wounds. Staring into the darkness beyond Badluck Way, I returned
to the moments that had demanded violence of me. Alone in the dark, I threw old punches again
and set my finger against the rifle’s trigger once more. After one year on Sun Ranch, a year of
work, sweat and hard choices, I was thinking about leaving. Dwindling snowdrifts dotted the
landscape, some sculpted by the wind, others the consequence of my winter ploughing.
My house on Badluck Way was a log cabin designed by an architect who’d never intended to
live in it. He’d drawn cramped rooms, sparse light fixtures and a drafty brick fireplace that kept
the place cold no matter how much wood was burning. Living there, I’d come to hate the
crevices between the wall logs. They gobbled incandescent light like candy and soaked up most
of the glow from the cabin’s two small windows. Neatly joined, a good log wall can be a
masterpiece. My walls were sieves. On clear days, the rooms were flecked with glowing slivers
of sunlight. During storms, the wind hissed in.
In Spring, when the world began to thaw and the weather allowed, I ate dinner on the front porch
– a concrete slab kept sunless by an over-hanging roof. Deer, elk or hamburger from town went
on to the grill of my little barbecue. When the meat was ready, I ate leaning forward to catch the
heat rising from the coals. Most of the time I stayed comfortable on the porch because the house
blocked everything except a straight north wind.
One way to explain how I got to Sun Ranch is that ever since I can remember I’ve been obsessed
with the West. I grew up in Seattle, the son of a professional photographer and art director. Our
first family visit to a ranch, when I was seven years old, lasted only a couple of days. We pulled
spotted knapweed and helped move a few cows on horseback. My mother photographed every
disintegrated outbuilding she could find. My father must have had a touch of my own mania,
since on returning to his work running the university’s art museum, he organised a show called
‘The Myth of the West’.
At eighteen, I sat down in front of my parents’ computer to look for a job. I couldn’t put the idea
of ranching from my mind. Beneath a hypnotic magazine article about Sun Ranch, its
surroundings and its commitment to conservation, I found a job advertisement for a position
beginning early that summer. The job title was ‘Assistant Grazing Technician/Livestock
Manager’. Of the qualities listed for successful applicants most were unremarkable, but the last
three were different. I read them slowly and more than once: common sense, adaptability and
gumption.
Question 1:
In the final paragraph of Passage A, the narrator explains that he read a magazine article about
Sun Ranch, which persuaded him to apply for the job as Assistant Grazing Technician/Livestock
Manager.
Write the magazine article that the narrator might have read. In your magazine article you
should:
ï describe the attractions of Sun Ranch and its surroundings
ï explain the activities and appeal of daily life as a worker at Sun Ranch
ï suggest the challenges of working in that environment and the opportunities for personal
development a job there might offer.
Base your magazine article on what you have read in Passage A, but be careful to use your own
words. Address each of the three bullet points.
Give your magazine article a suitable headline and begin with, ‘The Sun Ranch is located …’
Write about 250 to 350 words.
Question 2:
Re-read the descriptions of:
(a) The sun setting and the light in paragraph 1, beginning, ‘When the sun dropped …’
(b) The log cabin in paragraph 4, beginning, ‘My house on Badluck Way …’
Select four powerful words or phrases from each paragraph. Your choices should include
imagery. Explain how each word or phrase selected is used effectively in the context.
Write about 200 to 300 words.
