Last summer our family had the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream. For years each of us had wanted to experience what the settling of the west must have been like. It so happened that my aunt and uncle were going to join a wagon train reenactment and invited us to go along.
|
This is our chuck wagon. Note the side board that folds down for food prep. and the chore lists. |
This is a window that can zip closed at night or in the event of a storm. |
That first night of orientation, we were so excited, we could barely contain ourselves, but because Laughing Water was just recovering from a bad cold, we decided to stay in a hotel before hitting the trail the next day. Were we glad we did! It rained heavenly buckets on the campers, horses, and wagons. We didn't know it then, but the whole operation would soon be incredibly thankful for that rain. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'm pretty sure our foremothers didn't get to sit on red carpeted benches!
|
Laughing Water waiting for the procession to start. |
I suppose that first rainstorm and the run-aways the first 1/2 hour of the trip just underscored that we were really trying out what our forefathers and mothers had done. Its dangerous. It was a commitment to something not entirely nameable. Hope? Dreams? Freedom?
The first bit was a muddy mess because of the torrential rains the night before. |
Here we are trying to catch up to our wagon without letting our hurrying skirts spook the already frisky horses. |
Our teamster, Mark, was amazing. His horses knew his quiet voice and would obey the slightest command even in the midst of rattling wheels and the loud chatter of children.
Mr. Blueberry Eyes was in heaven. This is what he is all about. He had hoped to take his own horse, but sadly, we had to put him down only weeks before. I think it helped to have other horses around for a while.
The Wood Artist was a champ. He had never been around horses and that first day tripled his time ever spent on a horse. He knew nothing about how to handle or care for them, but dug right in and learned. This guy, Rebel, had a thing for mud puddles and before The Wood Artist had been in the saddle a half hour, he found himself vaulting into the air as this gentle giant decided to roll in one of those delicious new puddles. Lesson 1: When encountering water with this boy, keep those reigns up. (They don't call us green horns for nothin'!) Later I made friends with a gal who had been behind him at that moment. Her comment was, "Oh! That's your husband? He has some moves!" Haha. Well, yes.
Each person, whether riding a horse, walking or wagoneering is assigned a wagon "family". This was ours. The gentleman in the red kerchief was our teamster. The other family in our wagon just happened to be a home school family from Missouri. We bonded instantly and had a marvelous time. I still miss their precious faces. My aunt and uncle are on the right.
These little guys couldn't have been sweeter, cuter, or more well behaved.
The real horse people among us. |
Me and my cowboy. |
Would we have been ones to venture west a hundred and sixty years ago? I think maybe so. I like my cush, but that sense of adventure is pretty strong in my blood. You, know that Baggins vs. Took thing.
I'll show more of the details of the trip in the next posts. - Nanette