Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/125316
T he wagon bumps along, its axles creaking. Wheels grind and horse hoofs clatter on the rutted gravel track. Here I am, in long skirt, apron and bonnet, reliving a distant dream. Hmmm. Riding in a covered wagon is more uncomfortable than I expected: the seats are narrow and hard, and there are six of us, knees bumping across the narrow aisle. Though it's noisy and jolting, I'm enjoying every minute. After all, comfort isn't what I came for. I want to travel as the pioneers did, and so I'd signed up for the week-long Fort Seward Wagon Train. Operating since 1969, when it was started by a group of Jamestown, North Dakota, locals as a one-off venture, it became so popular it now runs annually at the end of June with a different 100-mile route every year. In the afternoon of our first day, we trek through what looks like virgin prairie, a great sweep of tall grasses, a few wildflowers. Was this the land of 150 years ago, when the pioneers trundled by on their way to a new life? There are 11 wagons in our train today, plus the chuckwagon and a bevy of outriders on horseback. I learn from teamster Gordon Eichele that we are headed down to (opposite, clockwise from top) The wagon train winds through the dreamy James River Valley; heading to a small-town parade while a young girl races through bean rows; teamster Mark Gehlhar sports a very pioneer-era moustache; the ford at Big Rock. p36-43_North Dakota.indd 37 a ford at Big Rock, so I jump off and hurry ahead. The horses carefully pick their way over the creek, their big hoofs splashing, then pull the wagons up onto a prairie meadow where the train circles in for the night. Suddenly it is quiet. The travellers step down, women holding up their skirts, the children scampering down to a pool deep enough for a dip. Big Rock is a lovely site with no signs of civilization, except for the baggage truck (a long horse trailer) with our camping gear and a few pickups with the food, for us as well as the horses. A couple of kids from a neighbouring farm ride in, bareback on painted ponies, pretending to be "Indians." The teamsters unhitch and water the horses. The firebuilders set to work and the chuckwagon is suddenly the centre of activity as cooks and helpers converge. It has been a long day. We've covered more than 37 dusty kilometres since we left old Fort Seward on the outskirts of Jamestown. The organizers have made this pioneer experience as authentic as practicable. No electronic gadgets, no modern comforts, but we've brought comfy tents and sleeping bags from home. We set up camp in the long grass, fetching cold water in buckets for a quick wash before dinner. Pioneer garb is mandatory in the evening: long dresses and bonnets for the women, and for the men, pants with old-fashioned suspenders. Luckily for the guys, blue jeans and cowboy hats have been around for a long time. GOING PL ACES >> s u m m e r 2 0 1 3 37 13-04-12 1:11 PM