The good, the baguette & the ugly

From line dancing to milking cows, riding a bronco and chilling out in a teepee, Heidi Fuller–love discovers the wild west in an unlikely area of central France.

WALK THE LINE
When I slam back the saloon door and saunter into Danse Country 23 in the village of Ahun, I’m expecting to see a group of geriatric Miss Ellies and Texan OAPs. Instead the ambiance is really wild, with dudes clad in Cattle Kate Wyoming bib shirts and Cowtown rattlesnake boots, yee-hahing at a posse of gals strutting their stuff in Dolly Parton wigs, with make-up and bodies to match.

“Ever since that 1980s movie Urban Cowboy where John Travolta two-steps in a cowboy hat and tight jeans with a nubile Debra Winger, line dancing has been cool,” says our tutor Emilie.

Not just about country and western music, line dancing draws on a huge variety of styles, ranging from Latin and ballroom, to jive, salsa and funk. “It’s one of the most diverse dance forms in the world,” she explains.

It takes me 10 minutes to learn the chassé, the grapevine, the weave and the shuffle step, then I’m stepping, crossing, scooting and booting with the best of them. When 'Cotton Pickin’ Time' blares out over the speakers I’m dancing opposite hunky Doug, who pulls a toy gun out of his pocket and cocks it.

“Here in Ahun we really dress the part when we go line dancing,” he says with a cheeky grin. “And I thought you were just glad to see me,” I purr, striking a Mae West pose.
Way to go: Try it in Limousin with Danse Country 23.
Or: Want hard-hat days and honky-tonk nights in the UK? Check out courses run by Lynn Schapiro, one of the country’s top line dancers.
www.lynneschapiro.com

COWED GIRL
Mirabelle’s eyelashes flutter deceptively sweetly, but her curved horns glitter like Kill Bill scimitars in the noon-day sun. This is my second stop on a whistle-stop western-themed tour of one of France’s wildest provinces, and I’ve been thrown in at the deep end with the cattle. Not that I have to rope them through or brand ’em or anything – I just have to extract some milk for the folks back home on the ranch.

Feigning Clint Eastwood cool, I follow farm hand Daniel to my showdown with a big, brown-eyed Limousin cow. Most of the surrounding farms have gleaming stainless steel milking machines. But here at Silaudy farm they like to do things the ol’ fashion’ way.

Hunkered down on a three-legged stool, Daniel shows me how to squeeze at the top of a teat with thumb and forefinger forcing the milk out in a foaming jet, which drills into the bottom of his milk pail like gunshots in that famous shootout with Wyatt Earp at the OK Corral.

Chewing a blade of grass I hitch up my 501s and swagger over to take Daniel’s seat. My cowgirl cool is ruined, however, when my Henriques black patchwork wellies meet a patch of fresh dung and I slither into Mirabelle’s rust-coloured left flank. Making a feeble joke about getting together to chew the cud, I tug tentatively at one of her udders, which dangles in front of me like a Dali rubber glove. When nothing happens I yank at the teat like a bellrope and Mirabelle lashes out a lightning-quick hoof, kicks the bucket and covers me in steaming foam.

Half an hour later, having extracted enough white stuff to make a decent latte, I head back to the farm to lunch on a couple of its own T-bone steaks. Just hope Mirabelle never finds out.
Way to go: For maximum town/country contrast stay at the sumptuous Manoir de Beaulieu and join in one of their milking jaunts (séjour traitdes vaches) to a farm next door.
www.manoirdebeaulieu.com

RAW HIDE
If you disregard an uncanny knack for knowing exactly where to pin the tail on the donkey, my equine knowledge could be written on the back of a postage stamp. And that’s probably why my mouth is “Desert Trail” dry as I eye up the powerful, compact Quarter horse that will be my mount for the day at Tréphy western stables in deepest Limousin.

“Western-style activities are becoming more and more popular in Limousin – and men like western riding because it’s a good excuse to dress up as cowboys,” jokes owner Patrice Bargeau as he shows us how to tighten a leather strap under the horse’s belly, then knot it like a cowboy’s neckerchief to hold on the saddle. Minus the hole in the middle, this leather seat is as comfortable as a baby’s potty, with the added bonus of having a huge horn-like “pommel” to cling to if one’s bronco (who may also be a fan of westerns) decides to get a bit ornery.

Before leaving for Limousin my horsy sister lectured me about keeping my bum in and heels down, but as we head out in Indian file behind Patrice I’m glad to see that everyone’s bums and heels are all over the place.

Way to go: La Ferme Equestre de Tréphy (19390 Chaumeil, tel: +33 (0)5 5521 4034) runs one-day and weekend western riding courses.
Or: Fancy riding across Britain’s little prairies cowboy style? Put on your Stetson and head for The Mendip Stud near Bristol.
www.themendipstud.com

4 more ways to play cowboys and Indians out in the wilds of Limousin

Join the Indians and bed down for the night in one of Limousin Farm Holidays’ (www.limousinfarm-holidays.com) comfy teepees set in a wooded clearing near the medieval market town of La Souterraine.
Make like a prospector and pan for gold on a course organised by the Gold Museum at Jumilhac le Grand (tel: +33 (0)5 5352 5543).
Ride the railroad on a vélo-rail (tel: +33 (0)5 5578 8612), a kind of platform on wheels that you pedal along the railway track, leaving from the Haute-Vienne town of Bussière Galant.
Spend an afternoon at Feeriland (http://feeriland.free.fr), an animated model theme park near the World War II Oradour memorial site, whose full-scale cowboy village includes a working train, an overworked undertaker and plenty of high-noon showdowns.