Quickie : The Ranch
I remember driving up to the property and, even with my limited, basically nonexistent vision, I could tell it was massive and beautiful. When you can sense the grandeur without actually seeing it, you know you’ve arrived somewhere impressive.
That somewhere was Cold Water Ranch, tucked into the rolling hills of the Coldwater Valley, about 30 minutes west of Merritt, BC. Picture 820 acres of rugged terrain, lakes, streams, horses, and cattle casually roaming around like they own the place—because, well, they do. In the middle of all this cowboy paradise sits ten acres dedicated to the Abilitas Foundation, where they’ve built an accessible lodge so folks with disabilities (plus their families and caregivers) can rest, recharge, and reconnect. Basically, it’s rustic luxury with ramps.
The lodge itself? Huge. Like, I could get lost between the fridge and the couch huge. There was a communal kitchen big enough to host a cooking show, a sprawling dining room, a great living room, and two pods, each with two bedrooms and two accessible washrooms. One bedroom had a roll-in shower. The other bedroom? An oversized, fully accessible soaker tub with a ceiling track system that went from bed to toilet to tub. Naturally, I staked my claim on that one. If there’s a luxury accessible bathtub up for grabs, you best believe I’m planting my flag.
My PA, Tora, and her partner, Kitty, took the other room. They seemed happy with their setup, but I was too busy discovering my inner spa goddess. Every morning and evening, I slipped into the bubbles like I was entering the opening chapter of a romance novel. Headphones in, smutty audiobook queued up, I was no longer just a guy on a weekend trip. No, I was the leading lady in a steamy paperback. Somewhere in my mind, Shania Twain belted “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” while my bathwater swirled like the River of Desire.
I’d sink back and let the words wash over me: forbidden glances, passionate embraces, a duke with smoldering eyes—and there I was, bubbles up to my chest, nodding like, “Yes, tell me more about his chiseled jawline while I prune.” By night two, I was basically writing mental fanfiction.
Man, I feel like a woman!
We were there for four days, three nights—the perfect amount of time to do absolutely nothing. And that’s exactly what we did. It was boring, but the good boring. The kind of boring where your shoulders finally drop three inches because you’ve stopped stressing.
We even experimented with food this time. Instead of lugging a cooler of random groceries, Tora ordered Hello Fresh. And I have to say—pretty fricken good! We ate like civilized human beings instead of feral campers.
Outside of soaking and eating, I did meet some of the horses. Django, in particular, was a massive, gentle good boy. The weather, however, was bloody hot—July in the valley doesn’t mess around.
To add a little drama to our otherwise chill trip, Kitty noticed one of the tires on my van was making an ugly noise. Just to be safe, I called my dad, who happens to be a heavy-duty mechanic. He drove all the way out, ready to do surgery on the van, only to discover… a rock in the brakes. Yep, a rock. At least he got to check out the cool digs we were staying at.
By the end, Tora told me she’s going to drop me on my face on the next trip so I’ll have a more exciting story to tell. But honestly? Between the spa-level soaker tub, Shania Twain sing-alongs, a horse named Django, and a rogue rock sabotaging my tire, I think this trip had just the right amount of action.
That’s it, that’s all.
