A close-up look at the herd shows the longhorn steers pressed together, carefully guided on both sides by riders to keep the line intact.

MARYSVILLE, CA (MPG) - If you closed your eyes, it almost sounded like a campfire — the crackling snaps, the rhythmic clops, sharp whistles and distant whoops and hollers. That’s what a herd of horses and cattle sound like coming over the Twin Cities Memorial Bridge.

I’ve covered this event for several years now, and it’s always a joy to anticipate. The Marysville Stampede Cattle Drive marks the start of fall in Yuba-Sutter County, and the weather certainly didn’t disappoint. The mild heat fluctuated slightly as the sun dipped in and out from behind a heavy gray sheet of clouds, teasing the promise of a beautiful sunset.

As much as I love the tradition, it can be a challenge to keep the story fresh. For decades, the Flying U Rodeo has corralled its herd through the downtown streets of both Yuba City and Marysville, uniting the community in one of California’s oldest spectacles. The annual drive signals the arrival of rodeo season and excites newcomers and longtime fans alike. But as a journalist, I can only repeat the history so many times, and the photos — well, they’re a dime a dozen. So, what’s a journalist to do? Find a new perspective.

Horsewomen and rodeo royalty lead the cattle drive across the Twin Cities Memorial Bridge into Marysville on Sept. 10, a long line of riders keeping the herd in formation.

This year, I decided to do just that — both literally and figuratively. In the past, I’ve only seen the drive from the Yuba City side. This time, I ventured to the Marysville end, climbing the Twin Cities Memorial Bridge for the first time. Though I’ve driven over it thousands of times, I’d never walked it. From there I spotted a path leading up to the railroad overpass. Eureka!

After a quick inspection, I settled myself at the center of the bridge, framed by a diamond-shaped brick porthole — the perfect window to capture the action. As I waited, the golden hour cast a misty glow over the Sutter Buttes, while Marysville proper basked in warm evening light. Looking toward Yuba City, the glare was blinding at times, so I snapped on a UV filter, adjusted my ISO, and hoped for the best. Shooting into the sun is never easy.

The flashing lights of the police escort announced the herd’s arrival. A tight line of horsewomen led the way, while Reno Rosser directed riders to close in the gaps and keep the herd contained. Perhaps it was my vantage point, but the herd seemed smaller this year — a sentiment echoed by nearby onlookers, who, encouraged by my daring perch, had joined me on the precarious trestle. Another bystander later remarked that down on the streets, the riders had surrounded the cattle so closely you could hardly see them.

After the cattle passed beneath the bridge, they were followed by a wave of excited shouting from 4-H and FFA kids, along with floats from regional businesses and schools. It was the loudest and most energized I’d ever seen these groups, their cheers and laughter adding a whole new layer of celebration to the drive.

Before the herd’s arrival, the bridge framed a quiet view of the roadway and setting sun — a calm moment ahead of the Stampede’s signature chaos.

As the procession moved on, I hurried back to my car to catch the finale at Cotton Rosser Arena. Traffic slowed me, but I arrived just in time to see Reno Rosser congratulating his team on what he called the safest cattle drive on record.

In modern times, the cattle drive is more of a novelty than a necessity. Last year it was canceled altogether, as the hotel Marysville fire left traffic routes obstructed. In 2023, a handful of cattle broke loose from the herd, sparking a brief chase through downtown Yuba City. The animals were quickly corralled, but the incident was one Reno and his team took seriously.

“We didn’t lose a single steer today — it was a job well done,” Reno said. “I had told my wife I wasn’t sure. If we lost anything, or if someone got hurt, we were going to be done. But this was truly a success.”

That sense of relief and accomplishment carried through the crowd as the sun finally broke free of the clouds, drenching the arena in a glowing pink hue — the perfect ending to a community tradition that still manages to inspire and surprise me, even after all these years