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A Rolling Wagon Vacation
| Article
# : |
13599 |
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Section : |
LIFE
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| Issue
Date : |
4 / 1988 |
1,255 Words |
| Author
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Sam Kittner
Sam Kittner has worked as a staff photographer for the Watauga
Democrat, the newspaper in Boone, N.C. He is now a free-lance
photographer in Washington, D.C. |
Water rushes around mountain rocks as a horseman on a ridge overlooking the creek spits his chaw. Weaving through the green, misty foothills of the Blue Ridge, horse-drawn wagons move along in a rolling rhythm.
If not for a passing car or a Nike tennis shoe dangling from the rear of a wagon, one would believe the members of this wagon train were pioneers braving the Appalachian hills in search of a new life. But these families are not on their way to settle the uncharted mountains of western North Carolina. They are on vacation with the Daniel Boone wagon Train, an annual week-long journey through the Yadkin River Valley up to Boone, North Carolina.
Sixty-six wagons filled with friends and families and over one hundred horseback riders are pulling together to make their way across the mountainous fifty-mile route. The trail varies from two-lane pavement to water-run wooded paths, and ends on the Fourth of July parade route in downtown Boone.
Wagons, horses and mules are not rented for this trip. They belong to the loggers, factory workers, and farmers who are taking a week off from work, many with their entire families, to ride through the mountains.
Don Henson chews on his cigar and waves to children who are staring at the horse-drawn train from their front yards. Henson is riding by himself in the beautiful wooden wagon that his friend Wayne Bulla helped him to make.
"You don't find many grouches on the wagon train because they are too tight to go," he says.
He expects his daughter and one of his grandchildren to join him for the last half of the trip. Several other members of his family are scattered along the train in their own wagons.
"My daddy always farmed with horses and kept a good team," says Henson, who has lived most of his life in nearby Vilas, North Carolina. "My daddy lived a hard life I guess. I helped him haul lumber. But he'd be tickled if he could see me with a nice team like this," he muses.
After sundown
The first day's journey ends as the wagons and riders pull into a large field in Fergurson. Harnesses are removed and horses are
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