I’m soon confronting my incompetence with a bit of lasso-training from Ken, the ropeman. He’s thin and wiry and what you can see of his face beneath the brim of his hat, is lined and weathered. With enormous patience he stands by as I try to spin, throw and drop my rope clean over a black plastic cow’s head stuck on the end of a wooden frame about fifteen feet away.
At my first attempt I’m slightly off target and lasso Nigel, the cameraman. I dissolve into uncontrolled peals of urban laughter. (We’ve been on the road a long time now, and hysteria lurks close to the surface.) Ken smiles politely but I think he finds my behaviour more alarming than that of any rogue steer.
Choose another day from Hemingway Adventure