Covered Wagons

Tanya Hanson: Rockin’ Round the Tetons

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Two weeks ago I and my hubby T.L., brother-in-law Timmy and sis Roberta (l-r in the pic above) had the experience of a lifetime, taking a wagon train around the Tetons with an amazing group, Teton Wagon Train and Horse Adventures headed by wagonmaster Jeff Warburton out of Jackson, Wyoming. He’s a true cowboy and a gentleman and will be a guest here in Wildflower Junction in the near future.

                                 

We’re still in 7th Heaven about our adventure. To celebrate, I’ll send a pdf. copy of my fictional wagon train adventure Hearts Crossing Ranch to one commenter today after a name-draw. So come on down, ya hear?

                                

Yep. We spent four days circling the Tetons through the Caribou-Targhee National Forest bordering Yellowstone bear country. We didn’t see any bear despite everybody’s secret longing.   Likely the thundering horses and our noisy group skeered ’em away.

                                 

 We got our start in Jackson Hole, Wyoming with a bus-load full of cityslickers from Pennsylvania, Texas, Florida, Illinois, us Californians..as well as Bermuda, Japan, and Brighton, England!  There were about forty of us ranging in age from five to—eighty one! 

First stop on the bus taking us to the wagons were photo-ops of the Grand lady herself..followed by her neighbor Mount Moran reflected perfectly in a oxbow lake.

                                                           

These scenes were practically perfection in itself..but all breath stopped when we reached The Wagons.

 After a delicious lunch—there’s nothing quite like chuck wagon cooking in the open mountain air—Jeff called, “let the wagons roll” and we were off to our camp for the night.

                                              

Pulling them were magnificent draft horses, Percherons and Belgians. They are named in teams, such as Lady and Tramp, Gun and Smoke, Sandy and Sage, Jack and Jill. The first name is always the horse on the left. These glorious beasts are capable of pulling up to 4,000 pounds as a team, and they love to work. In winter, they lead sleighs to the elk refuge outside Jackson.                                                              

While the wagons do have rubber tires and padded benches, the gravel roads are nothing like a modern freeway. As driver  Marisa told us the first day, I get paid extra to hit as many rocks and potholes as I can. Most times our route was called the “cowboy rollercoaster.” 

                    

I’ll always hear Kathy (below on the right) saying, as she drove the wagons,  “Lady, Tramp, step up.” Jeff’s daughter Jessica is on the left. Jessica leads trail rides.

                                                                                                               

Jeff’s family owns and runs the business and the ranch, and his son Michael, with me below, is an important member of the crew.

           

Most of the other wranglers are college students who work the ten adventures run each summer.  Foreman Nathan and Camille got married last spring in a Western-themed wedding…Chuck cooks Celeste and Carrie kept us fed. Each adventure starts on a Monday and ends on Thursday, each new trip reversing the course. The crew members take turns two-by-two remaining with the horses for the weekend until the next adventure starts.

This week, sadly, is the last week for 2010. These young people are amazing, multi-talented, multi-taskers who knew each and everybody’s name within ten minutes.  The crew members typically work two or three summers before leaving for internships, graduation, or marriage.  Jeff himself was a a crew wrangler himself as a youngster, met wife Cindy here, and was able to purchase the ranch and the wagon train adventure business a few years later.                                                               

 

I think everybody’s favorite “crew member” was Buddy, probably the cutest dog ever. He accompanied every trail ride after following the draft horses from camp to camp…he romped in every stream and lake, caught mice, and totally stole everybody’s heart. BTW, he’s probably the first dog ever not to snarf down bacon. He loves the wagon adventures sooooo much that, Jeff says, Buddy’s pretty disgusted to become a backyard dog after the summertime.

              

Our tents were comfy—all sleeping essentials are provided–, and there was nothing so fine as a cup of Arbuckle’s to warm us up on a chilly evening.  After supper—cowboy potatoes, Indian frybread, and raspberry butter are among our favorites—we gathered around the campfire for Jeff’s tall tales, historical accounts of the Old West, guitar strumming, cowboy poetry and songs, S’mores,  and terrific skits the natures of which I can’t reveal. I don’t wanna spoil the surprise for those of you who might find yourself traveling along with Jeff and the crew in future.  Suffice it to say legends, history, drama, mountain men, melodrama and gunfire played enormous parts in the entertainment. Delish Dutch oven desserts such as peach cobbler and cherry chocolate cake were dished up each night and served to the ladies first.

One of the nicest parts of the meals was Jeff leading us in a blessing first. Nobody had to join in…but seems like everybody did.

Paper is burned in the campfire and only one Styrofoam cup is allotted per day, as everything brought in  the wilderness must be taken out.  We wrote our names on the cups and hung them between meals on a cup line.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

                                                                                            I totally loved this paper napkin holder.

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Everywhere surrounding us, the Wyoming landscape was full of lakes, greenery and blooming wildflowers.  Nights after the camp quieted down were almost beyond description: the stars are endless, multi-layered, sparkling on forever and ever amen. What a sight.                                                   

But the most fun of all was riding horses!  Folks either rode, hiked, or wagonned it to the next camp each day.   My favorite mount was Copper.

                                       

In camp, I threw hatchets, never once hitting my target, and roped Corndog., the pretend cow.  Now, even though the proof is on a video camera, I can’t show you today as we haven’t mastered lifting a “still” off of the video. Jeff taught me all about the “honda” and the “spoke” of a lariat, and I nailed Corndog on my third try. Honest.                              

                                                                         

(My kids were not as impressed when they realized I was afoot and not riding a bucking bronco while roping Corndog, but myself, I am mighty awed.)

Our last day, the Pony Express rode through camp and brought us all mail. 

                                                                                                                                                                                          

Me and mine, well, we had the time of our life.  

                                                                               

As Jeff said when we left, “There’s always be a campfire burnin’ for ya here in Wyomin.”

                                                                         

                                                                                                       

Yep. I’m feeling the warmth right now.

Sigh.

                                                                          

Westward Ho The Wagons

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Margaret Brownley

IN MY BOOK A Lady Like Sarah, my heroine comes across the remains of a wagon train following an Indian attack.  Though it wasn’t necessary to research covered wagons for my story, I’m a firm believer that writers should never miss an opportunity to procrastinate in the name of research. Plus I was curious to know how accurately wagon trains were depicted in those old westerns I grew up with.

Having once ridden in a covered wagon, I know from experience that those teeth rattlers were not designed for comfort.  If you didn’t bake beneath the canvas covers, you’d probably choke on dust.  Most emigrants walked rather than rode but it wasn’t only for lack of comfort.

THE AVERAGE SIZE of a covered wagon was twelve feet long and four feet wide.  That’s about the size of my PT cruiser. By the time I load up my car with a couple of kids and a week’s supply  groceries, it’s packed to the gills.  I can’t imagine trying to haul a household across country in that thing. I can’t even go to church without carrying a piano-size purse. Not only would we have to walk, we’d have to drag pots and pans and probably even a requisite hundred pound bag of flour or two along with us.

Some sentimental souls insisted upon packing grandma’s rocker or family heirlooms but these were soon left on the side of the road. That would have been a problem for my family.  My husband can’t pass so much as a hubcap without pulling over (which explains why our garage looks like Goodwill).

CONESTOGA WAGONS were twenty four feet long and could carry 12,000 pounds of cargo but that much weight required teams of at least eight horses or twelve mules.  Most families couldn’t afford that luxury. A covered wagon could be pulled by as little as one team providing a family traveled light. The most popular animal was the ox, especially during the early years of migration when a mule cost $75 and an ox $25. Oxen couldn’t travel as fast as horses but they were stronger and less likely to stray or be stolen by Indians. They were also able to survive on sparse vegetation.

They did, however, have one fatal flaw; they tended to go berserk when hot and thirsty, in which case they would stampede to the nearest watering hole. If the lake or stream was downhill,  watch out! A wagon’s hand brake was good for parking but not much else. Though a downhill run might have given the kids a thrill, it was definitely a problem for the driver.  

WAGONS AVERAGED  about two miles an hour for a total of ten to fifteen miles a day. A 2000 mile journey from Missouri to the west coast would take about five months—longer in bad weather. Can you imagine spending 150 plus days listening to your kids ask, “Are we there, yet?”   It makes you want to run screaming to the next watering hole just to think about it.

pt cruiser
WOULD YOU TRAVEL ACROSS COUNTRY IN THIS?
Calistoga
OR WOULD YOU RATHER TRAVEL IN THIS?

 

  

 

 

 

  

  

MOST TRAVELERS didn’t even know where “there” was. John Bidwell, who led a party from Missouri to California, later admitted: “Our ignorance of the route was complete. We knew that California lay west, and that was the extent of our knowledge.

As could be expected, cooking was a chore.  Not only did pioneer women have to get over their aversion to using buffalo chips for fuel, they had to fight wind, insects and sandstorms.   In case you were wondering, a family of four required 1000 pounds of food.

THE PRAIRIE TRAVELER  by Captain Randolph Barnes Marcy provided detailed lists of needed provisions.  No one knew about antioxidants and carbohydrates back then, but much attention was given to something called antiscorbutics for the prevention of scurvy. Whatever it is, it can be found in green grapes and wild onions.  Travelers were also told that they could restock in Salt Lake City but only if they were lucky enough to find Mormons in an amiable mood.

The Captain went into great detail about men’s clothing but failed to offer advice on female apparel.  Women complained about the difficulty of climbing in and out of wagons in hoop skirts.  If necessity didn’t change the way women dressed for the journey, the urgings of exasperated husbands soon did.

Wagons were circled at night to keep the animals corralled and give children a safe play area.  The circle also offered protection from Indians.

MANY WOMEN wrote in their diaries that relationships with Indians were mostly peaceful and mutually helpful.  Does that mean Indian troubles were exaggerated as some historians now claim? 

Not according to authors Gregory F. Michno and Susan J. Michnor who wrote in Circle the Wagons!: Attacks on Wagon Trains in History and Hollywood Films that the bloody Indian attacks depicted in movies prior to 1950s were more historically accurate than the politically correct movies that followed.

INDIAN ATTACKS were by no means the only danger that awaited emigrants.  Accidental shootings and drownings took a toll as did disease.  It’s estimated that there’s one emigrant grave for every eighty feet of the Oregon Trail. 

Although remarkably impersonal, women’s diaries offer a fascinating look into daily life on a wagon train. Keeping up with the wash was pure drudgery but not for Mrs. Hampton who wrote in her diary in 1888 that when her wagon train reached Cheyenne, Wyoming, she sent their company’s dirty clothes to the laundry.  Now that’s my kind of woman.

It’s a relief to know that most of what I learned about overland journeys from those old westerns was true. Though, as far as I can tell, no wagon train ever rolled out of camp to the tune of Westward Ho, The Wagons.   

 

 

This is more my traveling style.
THIS IS MINE!

 

Okay, pardners, what about you? 

What’s your traveling style?

 

 

 

  

  

Romance Writers of America

               RITA finalist

 

A Lady Like Sarah (A Rocky Creek Romance)
 
a-lady-like-sarah
He’s a preacher; she’s an outlaw. Both are in need of a miracle.

  

 Coming in September

A Suitor for Jenny (A Rocky Creek Romance)

 

web cover
When looking for a husband it's best to go where the odds are in your favor.

   Visit me at my homestead:

www.margaretbrownley.com  

  

 

The Night Before Christmas – Filly Style!

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JEFFREY KOTERBA’S ARTWORK USED WITH PERMISSION

VISIT HIS WEBSITE: http://jeffreykoterba.com/

koterba_santa_covered_wagon

‘Twas the night before Christmas in this Junction of ours;

The sky over the prairie was ablaze with bright stars;


Our boots were lined up by the fire with care,

In hopes that Old Santa Claus soon would be there;


Felicia’s ornery mule napped snug there in the barn,

Whilst our visiting guest was spinning a yarn;


O’course Winnie in her wool socks and Tanya in her cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,


When out in the corral there arose such a ruckus,

I sprang from bed to see what the heck was…


…outside the window, there on the barn roof,

Victoria banged open the shutters and near busted a tooth!


The moon was so bright it near blinded my eye

And the snow landed like whippin’ cream coverin’ a pie,


When, what to my hornswaggled eyes should appear,

But a covered wagon and eight dusty reindeer!


With a little old driver wearing boots and a hat,

I knew for durned sure he was related to Pat.


He was cheery and bright, a right jolly cowpoke,

And I laughed when I saw him; he was my kind of  folk.


Those reindeers, they ain’t docile. What a hissy they threw!

Nearly toppled the wagon, and Old Santa Claus too.


Quicker’n a youngin’ off to play hookie,

That old geezer came in and asked Linda for a cookie;


She found one and he ate it, so Stacey got milk

Then Karen, she presented him with a scarf made of silk.


But Mary, she hung back, I think she was a’feared

‘Cause all night she trembled and her eyes how they teared


No worry, Margaret told her, the fat guy’s a friend.

To us in the Junction and those ’round the bend,


Sure ’nuff Santa left a package in each Fillies’ boot,

Didn’t matter none to him, they was dusted with soot.


Then somethin’ happened, caught us all by surprise,

Pam and Cheryl showed up with an armload of pies.


We sat down to eat ’em, and they tasted fine,

Though they couldn’t have baked ’em; They hadn’t had time;


Old Santa asked for seconds; Bet that’s why he’s merry.

He tried pumpkin and apple, even pe-can and cherry.


Charlene heaped on whipped cream, and still he ate more.

His belly how it swelled! Would he fit out the door?


“It’s my big night,” he declared.  “Only comes once a year.”

Good thing for that, too, or he’d burst I do fear.


He stifled a burp, and a pipe out it came;

“Smoking’s not good for you,” we did loudly exclaim.


“All that sugar and now this, think of your health.

“Think of all the children that count of your jolly old self!”


He listened real close and even nodded his head,

Took right to his heart everything we had said.


He tossed that old pipe in the fire with a pop,

“The Missus, she’s been tryin’ to get me to stop,”


With a hearty laugh and a promise to come back.

The Fillies watched that old fella leap up the smokestack.


He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a yee-haw,

And away they all flew, like twister-flung straw.


And we heard him exclaim as that team took flight,

“Merry Christmas, you bloggers, and to all a good-night.”

Victoria Bylin: Modern Day Conestoga — The End!

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Vicki LogoMy husband and I arrived in Lexington, Kentucky late Sunday afternoon.  It’s a 540-mile journey from our house in northern Virginia, and we typically do it in 9-10 hours including stops for gas, food, dog walks, etc..  Not this time! Instead of zipping along in my little Camry or in a rental car (we’ve done that at Christmas with the kids because we needed space for gifts, etc.), we were in my husband’s beloved and well used 1994 Toyota Tacoma pick-up truck, a long-bed with a bit of extra cab space. 

This baby was loaded to the max.  I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Myi-64 husband used the twin bed mattresses and box springs to make a box of sorts, and we filled it with a coffee table, three chairs, bags of bedding, a large toolbox and an assortment of household flotsam and jetsam. Talk about 10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb. sack!  This was absurd! 

And then it started to rain . . . Not a lot, but enough to require plastic sheeting. Add yellow rope, a dozen bungee cords in a rainbow of colors, and brown packing tape and you’ve got the picture.  I wanted to take a photograph, but I couldn’t find the camera because it somehow got packed in a mystery box. My theory is that my husband knows exactly where the camera is , but he doesn’t want this packing job on the internet.  I don’t blame him!  It was hilarious.

welcome-to-kySo how does all this relate to the pioneers traveling in their covered wagons?

We were in West Virginia on I-64 when I first thought of those stalwart men and women–and their oxen–lumbering up long, steep hills. Our little truck had to be near the maximum of its weight capacity.  We had to downshift on some of the grades between Covington, Virginia and Beckley, West Virginia, but we did just fine. Slow but sure.  If we’d had oxen, though, we’d have been dumping stuff like the pioneers did as they traveled west.

What would be the first thing to go?

Not the tool chest, even though it was extremely heavy.  A man has to be able to fix things.

Not the clothing.  It takes up space, but it’s light.

Books?  Ouch!  I have a lot more books than the pioneers, but I’m sure they traveled with a few precious family heirlooms. Maybe a Bible with the family lineage, or a much prized book of poetry. That’s not something anyone would want to part with.  

Pieces of furniture?  That’s what went first. Whatever is heavy, most dispensable and most easily replaced would end up on the side of the road.  This got me thinking about things we need vs. things we love.  A fifty lb. sack of flour would be a lot more precious than 50 lbs. of china to someone in need of bread, but the china would hold memories for generations.

lexingtonhorsefarmMy husband I didn’t have to throw anything out of the truck, but we had to deal with the strain of travel.  We were a few miles from home when we had to stop for the first time to retape the sheeting. Fifty miles later, we  bought three more bungee cords at a truck stop on I-81, the main thoroughfare through the Shenandoah Valley.

At sunset, we were in the Wal-Mart in Lexington, Virginia  buying more plastic sheeting because the wind had whipped holes in the first layer.

We made it, though. We’re safely in Lexington, Kentucky and its beautiful! I’m in Bluegrass Country! The truck is safely parked (make that hidden!) in my in-laws garage, waiting to be unloaded.  We might just leave it there until we find our new homestead.  The looking starts tomorrow and I can’t wait.

The modern day Conestoga has arrived at last! 

Victoria Bylin: Modern Day Conestoga continued . . . Fast Food or Real Cooking?

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victoria_bylin_banner A few weeks ago I blogged about loading up the “pod” and our upcoming move to Lexington, Kentucky. The Pod is long gone, which means my husband and I are camping in our own home.  My youngest son is here, so he’s camping too. The only things we have in the house are things that will fit in my car and my husband’s pick-up truck, or stuff we plan to give to the Salvation Army. 

It’s amazing to discover just how little we need to live. We have a couple of beds, a love seat, an old chair that belongs to the dog, one television, a coffee table, and few other pieces of flotsam and jetsam.

My kitchen is empty except for one cabinet that has a couple of plates, cereal bowls, one fork and too many spoons. I’m not sure how that happened. Somehow I kept out all the spoons and only one fork. I’ve got one mixing bowl, one cooking pot and my favorite microwavable bowl.spoons

Compared to what was in the cabinets three weeks ago, we’re down to bare essentials.

You know what?  I’m enjoying the simplicity.  No clutter. No mess.  With my life stripped down to basics, I’ve thought often about that Conestoga wagon and how people took care of themselves.

When it’s dinner time around here, I put a frozen pizza in the oven or head to Subway for sandwiches.  Pioneers traveling by covered wagon cooked over campfires. That meant gathering fuel for the fire, either wood or buffalo chips.  I hit “start” on the microwave, or turn a knob and hear the clicking of the electronic starter on the stove. The women traveling west struck a match and tended the fire as they made meals from what they’d brought and what was available.  

covered-wagon-desertLocal plants and animals supplied much of their food, but they had to haul along flour, sugar, coffee, beans and other essentials. They could make some purchases from forts and trading posts along the way, but you know how prices go.  When things are in short supply, prices go sky high.  And there were no guarantees supplies would be available.  Me?  Lately I’ve been heading to the local market (Giant or Safeway in this area) and picking out pre-packaged cold cuts, frozen dinners, potato chips for my husband and Mighty Dog for Hartley (our beagle / Jack Russell mix).

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The men and women traveling by covered wagon packed bacon in 100 lb. sacks with bran to preserve it in the heat. They carried 100 lb. sacks of flour, double bagged and carefully stitched. Vegetables were desiccated before the trip. They were cut thin, pressed, dried and as hard as rocks until cooked in water. Canned vegetables could be taken on the trip, but they were heavy and took up space. Me? I can buy fresh, frozen or canned vegetables ranging from corn to jalapenos and I don’t think twice about it. It’s all so easy, and I take it totally for granted.  

Some early travelers took things for granted as well, and they learned a hard lesson. As I was researching this blog, I came across a story in A Hand-Book for Overland Expeditions by Randolph B. Marcy, Captain U.S. Army.  He wrote: “I once traveled with a party of New Yorkers en route for California . . . They soon learned that Champagne, East India sweetmeats, olives, etc., etc., were not the most useful articles for a prairie tour.”spanish-olives

Can you imagine being hungry for a real meal and finding only olives and champagne? That’s the kind of snack that makes you appreciate home-cooking. So does frozen pizza!  My goal for this move is to be settled by Thanksgiving so I can make a big turkey dinner.

What about you?  Have you ever lived a stripped-down life?  If you were moving and had to reduce your kitchen to bare essentials, what would you have in your fridge?

western-vegetable-wagon-train

 

And one last thing . . . Next week the Fillies are doing a Western Recipe Week.  Check in for some great meal ideas that don’t come with microwave instructions!

Victoria Bylin: My Modern Day Conestoga Wagon

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Vicki LogoIn a few more weeks, my husband and I will be leaving our home of ten years here in northern Virginia and moving to Lexington, Kentucky.  My in-laws live there, and my youngest son goes to UK (University of Kentucky). We’re stoked!  We’re also putting all our belongings in a “pod.”  Have you seen those onsite storage containers?  I don’t mean to do an advertisement here, but the company we’re using is “Personal On Demand Storage,” aka PODS.   You’ve probably seen them.

pod

This thing is huge.  We’re also in the middle of renovating our house. It’s a mess, so we joked about living in the Pod. A couple of cots and we’d be set . . . which got me thinking about pioneers, covered wagons, leaving home, and deciding what to do take.

I thought it would be fun to do a few comparisons.  Not all covered wagons were conestoga-smithsonian1Conestogas, but the Conestogas were the biggest. Just how big was a Conestoga wagon?   How much could it hold?  

Our Pod dimensions are 16 x 8 x 8, for a total of 6,785 cubic feet.  We got the biggest one. Conestogas came in different sizes, but the average one was nowhere close to the Pod size.  The wagon beds were 16 feet long, 4 feet deep and 4 feet wide and shaped like a boat.  That’s about 256 cubic feet of space.  By the way, Wikipedia gives much bigger dimensions for the Conestoga. (conestoga-wagon-bw24 x 11 x 4).  That has to be measuring from the ground up, and the length of the conveyance with the harness. 

In their heyday Conestogas were referred to as “the inland ship of commerce.”  They were like semi-trucks back in the early nineteenth century.  Each wagon had a tool box for repairs, which were frequent with the rutted roads and rough terrain. We picture them in long lines headed west, but they were first used in the mid 18th century in the Appalachia Valley.  

Another interesting link to modern times is the left-sided drive design.  Drivers walked or rode on the left side of the wagon.  They’d use their right hand to steer with the reins, and operate the brake with their left hand. Have you ever wondered why American cars have left sided steering and European cars don’t?  It goes back to the Conestoga.

Conestoga isn’t a generic term for “covered wagon.”  Conestogas have a specific design, i.e., the boat shape, and they were first made in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania and used to haul produce to Philadelphia.  The earliest reference to a “Conestoga” was in 1711.

How did it gets name?  The wagons got their name from the Conestoga Valley in Pennysylvia where they originated.

podzilla

How much could a Conestoga hold in terms of weight? A lot!  Wikipedia says it could hold 12,000 lbs. and was pulled by six horses.  I couldn’t find the weigh limit for PODS, but this is a picture of the device used to lift it on to the truck. “Podzilla” fits, don’t you think.

My husband guess-timates he loaded 4,000 lbs. of stuff. I jokingly said, “I bet 500 lbs. of that was books.”  He gave me a rather dry look and said it was more like a thousand pounds. Bless his good heart and strong back!  He didn’t complain once about the 20 boxes of paperbacks, research books and back list titles. 

 

mike-and-the-pod

Your turn! Have you moved using a POD?  Maybe you’ve rented a U-Haul and done the toting and lugging yourself.  Any military folks who’ve moved every two years?

What possessions do you take extra care of when you wrap and pack? And if you had to pack a Conestoga instead of a Pod, what would you take and what would you leave behind?

 

America is a mobile society and it has been from the very beginning.  We’ve gone from Conestogas to Pods, but the spirit of adventure is the same.