The life of the lonesome cowboy out West is a fantasy for others living in their ‘urban Levi-lands of blue denim,’ writes Alan Road in the Observer Magazine of 29 January 1978. They long for ‘the freedom of the ranch’ and eye up the cattlemen and ranch hands of Western Canada, dressed in stetson and ‘sweat-stained shirt, jeans, boots, spurs and leather chaps’. They may look like heroes and ‘film extras’, but the reality, cowpokes working the old Cariboo Trail in British Columbia tell Road, is down and dirty.

Poor wages are driving people like Chris ‘Cactus’ Kind from ranching: ‘$450 [£225] a month and all the scenery you can look at,’ he says bitterly. He’s now a guide ‘to wealthy Americans who want to hunt Canada’s cougars, wild sheep, moose and grizzlies’. After shooting a 600lb bear, one man said, ‘Chris, that’s the biggest goddammned bullmoose I’ve ever seen.’

Local shop assistants get double a rancher’s pay. ‘But we can’t pay more,’ says ranch owner Red Allison. The price of beef is rock bottom, the cost of horses high. Trouble is, Red adds, ‘we’ve bred a generation of hamburger-eaters. Who eats a good roast or a steak any more?’

There’s no driving of the actual cattle, no more beans around the camp fire. ‘Now,’ laments Road, ‘cattle are trucked to feed lots, where they are fattened up before slaughter.’ The most efficient way of working with stock is still with horses, though, the boys insist. Motorbikes have been tried, even a helicopter – with disastrous results. ‘It just spooks ’em,’ says cow boss Pete Castanguay, turning to the horizon. Then something catches his eye. Turns out ‘that while we had been talking,’ writes Road, ‘their horses had surreptitiously opened the corral gate and were now heading hell for leather back towards the home ranch.’

A scene from Blazing Saddles ensued as the four cowboys head after them over the hill ‘in a hire car they had blushingly borrowed from us’.