Photo: Anna LoPinto

It’s a late August day just North of Gillette, Wyoming. A golden light dapples the prairie as a nearly full moon begins to make its appearance to the East. Fragrant sage compliments the landscape, as beautiful Western wheatgrass brushes my boots. Every direction I turn I see an unobstructed view of the plains, with only one exception. Parked in this almost prehistoric scene sits a modern convenience, a 2012 Dodge Minivan.

Its owner is author J.B. Zielke, and its purpose is on full display: to provide a home on wheels for a young man chasing a nomadic life. Zielke has lived out of a van (“I’ve had several, ‘cause I wear them out,” he explains) since 2016. The outside is unassuming with just a few hints at the passenger it carries, like the cheeky “Baby on Board” sign or the Belted Galloway air freshener swinging from the rearview mirror. The inside is much more telling. Retrofitted for life on the road, there is a bedroll on a cot in the back (a gift from artist Teal Blake), a mini fridge covered in western stickers, and cowboy boots neatly lined up in the back. Camera gear is organized in a crate, cooking utensils in a storage basket, and a large bin of books live under the cot. It’s a tidy and minimalist approach to life.

“Americans have so much extra shit they don’t need,” Zielke explains to me as we walk the perimeter of his van. “The fact that the storage shed industry is one of the fastest growing industries is absurd. All of my clothes can fit into a carry-on bag. I have two pairs of jeans, four shirts, socks, and underwear. That’s it.”  Even the outfit he wears today is practical. A gifted felt cowboy hat, a patched wrangler pearl snap who outgrew a friend, jeans he’s owned for a decade, and $6 thrifted Vans.

An approach to life facilitated and required by Zielke’s last decade of experiences. Specifically, his accomplishment of cowboying on six of the seven continents, the subject of his debut book, The Lost Cowboy. A nonfiction work that garnered him two Western Writers of America’s Spur Awards. A series of personal essays, the story features his travels in chronological order in six different countries: Australia, Argentina, Sweden, South Africa, Mexico, and Mongolia. A pilgrimage that left him with wild tales like riding reindeer in Mongolia, unfortunate run-ins with green ants in his bedroll in Australia, and avoiding cartel shootouts in Mexico. The last being the impetus for writing his book. “I was laying on the floor trying to not catch a stray bullet through the window and I was convinced my travels were going to kill me. I was less scared of death and more scared of never sharing my stories. So the next day I started writing.”

The book, which reads half adventure story, half coming of age tale, also gives a unique vantage point of some of the last herding cultures on our globe. “Cowboying” has been a fascination of Zielke’s since boyhood. Growing up in Colorado in an outdoorsy but not horsey household – with limited funds for expensive equestrian activities – Zielke’s resourcefulness started at a young age. At seven he started as a working student for a neighbor, assisting her with trail rides in exchange for saddle time. Charming customers, a young Zielke began receiving modest tips, saved it, and eventually bought a twenty something year old kill-pen horse for $500. He named him Snowman, and guided trails on him to make enough money to pay for his hay and his keep. The friendship lasted for years until the old horse colicked and Zielke couldn’t afford the expensive surgery. The sympathetic vet euthanized his horse for free, and Snowman died with the 12 year old Zielke stroking his head which was laying in his lap. Zielke’s affection and empathy for horses was further solidified, as well as the sting of loving something mortal.

As a teenager he began riding bulls, as it was the most accessible and affordable rodeo event. He had a knack for it and received a bull riding scholarship to the University of Wyoming, pursuing a degree in Veterinary Science and Agricultural Business. After several successive bull riding injuries that clouded much of his early childhood memories, Zielke had to retire from rodeo his senior year. The blow “left a huge hole” in his purpose and identity.

After graduating, and looking for his next challenge, he turned his interest towards the ringers of Australia – the Aussie equivalent of a cowboy – who catch feral bulls in the remote bush. By chance an Australian college friend had a brother who worked at a bull catching company in the Outback, and invited Zielke to join him. Zielke traveled to the remote Aboriginal community of Kowanyama by bush plane, and then drove another hour to the outdoor camp. Spending three months in Cape York, one of the wildest regions in the continent, Zielke assisted in gathering (called mustering in Australia) feral cattle on nearly 6 million acres. The methods for gathering, especially bull catching, was done on horseback, with dirt bikes, ATVs, or retrofitted trucks depending on the job. One distinction was evident to Zielke, the cattle were particularly feral, some with zero human contact, giving him an intimate portrait of what cattle behavior looked like independent of humans. “As a young stockman wanting to better learn livestock, there was no better place to be than Australia.”

He noticed other cultural contrasts in horsemanship, stockmanship, and the perception of “cowboys” while traveling to other continents. In Argentina he rode with the skillful gauchos, a point of pride for the young American who eagerly shared his experience with surrounding locals. Instead of being celebrated for this achievement, he was advised not to share his familiarity, as the occupation of gaucho was stigmatized. “In the United States, cowboys are looked up to, for the most part, but in other countries that’s not always true.”

Though the perception of stockmen varied from continent to continent, there was an undeniable commonality in herding cultures, the use of music. “Everywhere I went whether you’re a cowboy or a ringer or a gaucho, all of those people had their own type of regional stockmen music. Though the sound was unique, the content was the same. The songs are about the best horse they ever owned, a wreck, or some trouble they got into.” In Australia cowboy tunes were closer to the country music of the greater Western world, featuring National acts like Slim Dusty who Zielke compared to “the Australian George Strait.” In South Africa, Zielke discovered Zulu folk music, with traditional songs focusing on collective singing and a characteristic drum beat.

The region that had the most distinctive herding music however were the herdsmen of Mongolia. Zielke traveled with both horsemen and reindeer herdsmen in the remote Northern mountains of Mongolia to observe their ancient traditions. With a population estimated in the hundreds, and a dwindling hunting range, the community is partially reliant on tourism for economic stability. There Zielke rode on the steppe, and camped on the remote grasslands eating sheep by firelight, drinking fermented mare’s milk at night, and making camp coffee by the river in the morning. Immersing himself in Mongol culture, Zielke visited with the Tsaatan people of Mongolia in the “valley of the reindeer.” 

Both horse and reindeer herdsman carried vibrant musical traditions, including the symbolic horsehead fiddle, a traditional bowed instrument consisting of an ornate horse head carved on the headstock, and occasionally a body made of a horse skull. That, as well as singing, were pervasive in the community. Herdsmen have been singing to stock for millenia, all over the world, and it is a tradition still being used in Mongolia. As Zielke observed, “Mongolians in general just sing more than anywhere I’ve ever been. They didn’t have AirPods to put in and they couldn’t listen to music. So to entertain themselves, they would just sing.”

After the completion of his book The Lost Cowboy, Zielke wanted to pay homage to the deep musical traditions of folks in ranching and agriculture. This became one of the catalysts for his YouTube channel, Dusty Vaquero, a page dedicated to musicians who also work in agriculture or have a strong tie to it. Where he appreciated other channels that featured Americana and country musicians, he desired to have a page for those more physically tied to the land. “I had watched quite a few of those great YouTube pages that highlight some alternative artists. I think it’s super cool, but I was shocked it didn’t have folks like [rancher-musician] Kellen Smith. I thought I can either just sit here and bitch nobody is finding these guys, or I can just do it myself.”

With established artists like Colter Wall, Dave Stamey, and Summer Dean to big voices with less mainstream visibility like opera singer and 6th generation rancher Dana Wirth, the page serves as a reminder of the undeniable connection between agriculture and art. Or as Zielke puts it, “where day working cowboys meet starving musicians.” The project (like his book) is a self-taught process, and another extension of his resourceful lifestyle. 

“Society has a tendency to jam expectations down your throat, how you’re supposed to live. But for me, I don’t pursue things because of monetary value, I pursue them because it seems worthwhile. I don’t want to miss out. I am always curious about what’s over the next hill.”

Next he travels to film a pasture bronc ride at Tom Horn Days and after that he drives North to Canada to ride with Colter Wall on the Saskatchewan plains. As I part ways with Zielke, our evening turning into night, I wave goodbye to him and his van on the Wyoming prairie with a few of his words still rattling around in my brain. A question about how he does it all, life in a van, freelance work, seeing so much of this country and the world. “I get asked a lot about how to make this stuff work. And there is no secret. No formula. Just go do it.”