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What’s to love about this Santa Ynez ranch resort? Let me count the ways.

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That many years ago, I had never heard of Alisal Ranch, even though for decades it has been a popular getaway for California families and hosted many a Hollywood legend — we’re talking the likes of Doris Day, Groucho Marx, Gregory Peck, Mickey Rooney, Ava Gardner, Kirk Douglas. Walt Disney, too. (Clark Gable even got married in the library.)

Today, it’s hard to imagine a time when this iconic Santa Ynez Valley property didn’t own a piece of my heart.

10,500

The number of acres of rolling hills. Golden in the summer, emerald in the spring. Verdant sycamore and oak groves, home to eagles and bobcats, coyotes and critters of all sorts. Tucked among those hills is a blue lake that beckons you to fish off its banks or lazily paddle a canoe. Miles and miles of trails wend through land that is so beautiful sometimes it makes you ache a little.

A wrangler at Alisal Ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley. (Photo courtesy of Alisal Ranch)

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That’s the miles from downtown Solvang, the charming and weird Danish-style village about half an hour north of Santa Barbara. (Unsolicited advice: Stop at Paula’s Pancake House for a breakfast of Danish pancakes the morning you’re heading to the ranch.)

1907

That’s the date William T. Mead established The Alisal Ranch Company, but as goes the history of the West, the land had centuries of other stories upon it before then. First, the Chumash people called it Nojoqui, “the honeymoon place.” Then, after the Spanish Missions, the land was dubbed Alisal, meaning “alder grove,” and subsequently stewarded by generations of families through Mexican land grant holdings.

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That was the age of my son Ben when we came up for the weekend the first few times. Initially, he didn’t understand why we were driving four hours to go riding, being that we own a couple of horses and he’s always known his mom as a rider. Effectively, our home is even a petting zoo, with a few loveable but underemployed goats, and once upon a time, a grumpy pet pig. Yet, where my uncle had been a rancher and I’d grown up throwing hay and moving herds from one pasture to another, before Alisal my son had never experienced the wide openness of ranch life. And I wanted, in whatever way I could, to convey my upbringing to him.

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All the months of the year, Alisal maintains a working cattle ranch alongside its guest operations, so it was the perfect place to show my greenhorn son the ropes.

17

That’s how old Ben is now, when we finally returned in April for a family Spring Break getaway. Gone is my curly headed boy, replaced with a young man thinking about his last year in high school, with college choices just around the bend.

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television sets on the property and sometimes spotty internet means that for the duration of your stay, you’re going to be living the way, I would argue, we’re all meant to live: Outdoors in the fresh air, talking to real people, being among animals, eating good farm-raised food, laughing with those you love.

100

That’s how many beautiful riding horses live on the ranch, and from that string Ben was paired with a generous, flashy bay gelding named Clyde for our nearly three-hour ride into the hills.

Now you can argue, rightly so, that the reality of the cowboy way is far harsher and more brutal than the romanticized versions of it. But what I know is that some ideals of that way are still worth striving for, especially for a young man on the brink of adulthood. Ideals like loyalty. Courage. Independence. Finishing what you start, even — especially — when it’s hard. Keeping your word. Treating all living things with respect and fairness.

My husband and I can lecture about these things til the proverbial cows come home, but nothing will reinforce any of it better and faster than a good horse and a long ride.

Two of the 100 horses in the herd at Alisal Ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley. (Photo by Jimmy Camp)

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The number of things Ben told me later: That evening after our long ride, we’d enjoyed a steak-and-potatoes feast (don’t forget the butterscotch budino for dessert) and then retired to our casita for a few rounds of board games next to the cozy fireplace. Ben turned to me and said, “That was fun,” and “Mom, let’s go riding together more!”

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A singular moment when I knew for sure that going back was the way forward.

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