Going Places

It has taken all day to travel 27 km (30 minutes by car!). After supper, we congregate around the campfire to hear Mary give a short talk on the history of the place, settled by her ancestors in the 1890s. I walk down to inspect the bridge. Underneath, the span is clogged with a huge pile of downed trees, washed downriver in the floods of 2011. Later in the evening heat, sitting on a stubbly hay bale – this pioneer malarkey does have its drawbacks – I cast envious glances towards the neat and undoubtedly air-conditioned farmhouse. So far I have found it more comfortable to walk than ride, but the wagons travel faster than my walking pace. I start out in front, but gradually the wagons and outriders pass me, one by one. Left behind, I trudge along in their dust, sometimes hitching a ride in the paramedic van, which brings up the rear. In pioneer days, only the old and very young actually rode in the wagons, which would have been piled high with family necessities – for the journey and for new lives. Most of them, like me, walked alongside, whatever the weather. In between chores and chasing wagons, I get to know some of our fellow travellers. They hail from Alabama, Texas, North Carolina, Florida, New York – 20 different states in all – mostly families, big and small, from grandmothers down to six-year-olds. Many have done this trek before, returning year after year. Even without their electronic toys, all the kids, including the teens, are having a good time. Whenever there's a break, little girls, cute in their long skirts and bonnets, learn how to make pioneer rag dolls while the rest of us either gather round the "Bead Lady" to decorate our leather name tags or join James at his rope-making machine. Guitar playing, swap meets, impromptu skits and singsongs break out around the campfire each night. DAY 3: We stay close to the James River, moving steadily southeast for 18 km to the Skykerman dairy farm, our resting place for the remainder of the day. After lunch, it's time for sports, known as the "Prairie Olympics," mostly for the kids, with sack and three-legged races, a water-filled balloon toss and tug-of-war encounters between men and women as well as teams from the wagons. For supper, there's buffalo stew and Indian fry bread, real pioneer food. In the relative cool of the evening, Jenny and I stroll down the road in our long dresses and shawls to say hello to the real pioneers laid to rest in the nearby cemetery. DAY 4: Leaving the James River, we head south down a gravel road, into the flatlands where some of the corn is elephant-eye high and kids play at jumping over the bean rows. It is hot and humid. After lunch, we trek south again along the same road, through the marshes of Cottonwood Creek, and set up camp for the night in a farmyard with a beautiful old red barn that provides welcome shade. Total kilometres: 22.3. I reckon I walked at least half the way. The sunset is beautiful. DAY 5: We zigzag east towards our final destination, where the little town of Fullerton is celebrating its 125th anniversary and we are to be part of its parade. To get ready, the wagons hoist American flags; one also flies the Texas flag, another sports two small Canadian maple leafs. In the afternoon, the sky darkens and clouds boil up in an amazing crashing wave formation, strangely threatening. The flags snap in the wind. Will it rain on the parade? But the clouds race away and the hot blue sky returns. The wagon train rumbles along, past huge grain and fertilizer bins beside the railway tracks on our way into town. We make camp in a big, dry grass field across the tracks and walk to town for a community dinner. DAY 6: The wagon train pulls out again, complete with us "pioneers," to join the parade. Locals throng the main street, all waving and cheering and throwing candies into the road. Afterwards, it's back to camp for lunch. We pack up tents and gear (for the last time) and load into school buses for a comfortable drive back to Jamestown. In many ways, I am sorry to leave the wagon train. We had settled into a relatively comfortable routine and got to know some of those who made this journey with us. But on the other hand, having realized my childhood dream at last and tasted just a little of the pioneer experience, I'm looking forward to the air-conditioning, cool sheets and hot water in today's world. y The non-profit Fort Seward Wagon Train is organized by a committee and run mostly by volunteers. The annual week-long trek is $450 for adults, less for teens and children under 12. ℹ covered-wagon-train.com GOING PL ACES p36-43_North Dakota.indd 41 >> s u m m e r 2 0 1 3 41 13-04-12 1:11 PM

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