Waubonsie near Hamburg

June 19 and 20, 2004

Ed and I anticipated a good time at this park called Waubonsie because there were actual marked trails to ride. We were not disappointed.

The rolling hills of Iowa were green and lush with knee high corn. The small knoll type mounds were terraced like a rice field. Corn was planted in rows circling the mounds. The rivers we crossed were a muddy dark chocolate brown color.

Many, many trees were in the park. There were several trailers scattered loosely around and a few horses remained in the corrals on the top of the hill. Ed stopped and I got a sign up envelope to complete and put the $12 charge in for the camping.

There was no electric but a water spigot was available in several places. There were pit toilets. But there were trails! About eight miles of them!

The horses were put in the corrals and the trailer set to order when we decided to take a little ride. One of the friendly people suggested the short ride over the hill.

It was only 2:30 PM, so we saddled up and rode over to the left and into the woods. At once we were pleased that we were on a trail with trees, hills and valleys and green all around.

Teege and Dusty were wired. I credited the part alfalfa hay but Eddie said they just needed riding. That was Eddie’s usual diagnosis when a horse does not behave as desired. What ever it was, Teege wanted to fly around the narrow trails and switch backs. It was all I could do to keep her from cantering down the hills which had "Steep Hill" warnings posted here and there.

Dust was living up to his name of Powerhouse. He led part of the time and he pounded the ground. Eddie and I came back up into the camp, looked around and went back down in for more riding.

On one of our tours on the peripheral loop, we ran into a couple of men from camp. The older man was riding a palomino quarter mare and the younger was riding a very young horse to break him in the hills. He rode in the front and a lot of times the palomino loped down the trail to keep up with the young horse.

"I want you to look, Eddie, she wants to show walk down this hill," I told Eddie, as she pranced. If I said, "Walk easy, Teege, walk easy," I must have said it fifty times.

When our leading quarter horse riders turned to go back to camp after our trip around the long loop, Eddie and I decided to continue around the outside trail and come out the last trail entrance.

So we were off again, pounding the ground. We even explored a few trails that quit after a while. We found the bridge blocked with a tree that we had to go down in the ditch and climb back up.

Ed and I took turns riding in the front because both horses do best in the lead. We saw a big deer that did not even leave as we rode past. It wasn’t thirty feet away as the doe dropped her head to eat as we sat still and watched.

The ranger told us later that there is a particular type of soil in that area called Loess (pronounced Luss). It only exists in this area and somewhere in China. It is sandy but it cuts like clay or something. It is firm, but it is like pouring water in sugar when it rains where they have put posts in the ground. It immediately dissolves the ground around the post and the soil leaves.

Whatever it is, it is wonderful for horseback riding. I was astonished how much I loved to hear Teege’s bare feet on this sand as she joyfully did her beautiful running walk. There was a hushed "Catch a tiger, Catch a tiger" as she gaited.

Eddie and I rode every trail out there, some of them twice, in a couple of hours and it was like coming home.

It is the best riding we did so far all of the time we have been gone. Who would have thought Iowa would offer the prime trail riding.

Iowa was up front in other aspects, too. The ranger came up and brought us a map of Iowa and a flyer of all of the state parks, complete with telephone numbers and other information about each one. There was also a map showing the location. I was very impressed. Easy it was.

Eddie and I rode around the camp to cool off the horses. Usually we walk back the last mile to work the lactic acid out of their muscles so they would not be sore from the exercise. This time we had no idea when we were back to camp. We talked to some other riders and then went over and washed both of the horses. That is easier than brushing a dirty horse later.

Big Vic and Little Vic and their families were there trail riding and we talked around the campfire for a long time. They were long time ropers and went to a rodeo the next day and returned for a trail ride. They were an amusing bunch of people and they had great stories to tell.

Big Vic supports the idea of barefoot horses but acknowledges there are some situations where it just won’t work. He told the story to taking his mules somewhere there was flint rock. One day and he was driving somebody else’s mules.

We had a good night and next morning, we saddled up and rode the whole trail backwards! A good trail deserves to be ridden more than once. Since Eddie and I were riding alone, the horses were a little more settled, but they still sped around the ridges and up and down the hills.

A couple came over to our picnic table and told us about another wonderful place to ride in Iowa. They told us the best routes to take. So we decided to do it!

Since we didn’t want any after dark driving, we stayed at Waubonsie and watch every trailer load up and leave. Many other people drove over for a day ride, but they also left after returning from the ride.

The horses were stomping and fighting the flies, so I put Teege’s new fly sheet on her, along with her fly mask. Dusty only had the face mask, but it was some help. We used the fly spray, but it only helped a little. I made a mental note to order some of that garlic herbal stuff that Paul and Liz use in Cody, Wyoming.

The stalls had been constructed with volunteer labor and supplies. The posts were primarily old telephone poles with aluminum wire stretched in three rows. It worked. Some stalls were 12 x 24 and others were 24 feet square. That was a result of running out of enough aluminum wire. There was a sign to put the manure in a pile by a 4 x 4 post at each end of the corrals. The ranger expressed his surprise at the cooperation of the riders in cleaning the stalls and putting it in a place where a tractor could scoop up the waste.

Alone in the park, I was a little bit uncomfortable. Rain was to come in that night and I asked Eddie to walk with me to locate a better place for the trailer in the event of a really big storm.

We were situate on the top of the knob and I thought there might be more protection much lower and around the side. We debated a few places, picked out the best place to move and stayed where we were for the time. Halters were put back on both horses in case we did need to put them in the trailer.

Coyote pups screamed in the distance. Eddie told me there were no animals to fear in that area.

"I’m not afraid of critters here. I’m afraid of people!" I answered mostly because I don’t really like being alone in a campsite. I like it better where there is a camp host.

About three am the wind began blowing up a storm. Lightening was flashing frequently and Eddie asked if I wanted to put the horses in the trailer. I didn’t answer, but he got up to go get them. By the time he was dressed and found his raincoat, the rain was coming down in buckets and lightening was flashing all around.

"There is no need in both of us getting wet," Eddie said as he grabbed the flashlight and went out the door.

Dusty was afraid of the flashlight, but Eddie soon caught him and put him in first. Then he went back and got the mare.

Ed had already put hay in the mangers for the traveling the next day, so the horses became quite content and we slept well the rest of the night. Ruby was scared of lightening and she whined and panted in her crate. I got up and got a towel and put beside me on the bed and allowed her to sleep the rest of the night with us.

Elk Rock at Knoxville

June 21, 2004

We drove the 180 miles or so over to Elk Rock State Park near Red Rock Lake.

It took a little longer because the roads were not interstate. Then we had an hour break at Wal-Mart. When we got gas for $1.63, we ate at Arbys. Time flies when you turn the engine off the dually.

There were electric sites and about 8 x 8 tie stalls with slat roofs, which were not waterproof, but they did provide shade. It was too late to ride but it is beautiful country. I have been over twice to the trail head in anticipation of the good riding promised around the lake through the woods.

Again we were completely alone in the camp. A dozen or so cars came and drove around. Some stopped and horse talked and offered suggestions of good places to ride for our trip home. Jim Wimp even circled a place near Quincy, Illinois, at Siloam Springs State Park.

Ruby really enjoyed the area and I let her run loose because there were no other campers. She did a grand tour of the whole area a dozen times, mostly at her full speed of over 30 mph. I laughed as she jumped into the two foot weeds and grass. She jumped like a deer and I could only see her as she leaped.

I wrote late into the night and recharged my laptop because we had electric.

The next morning I put some pinto beans on to soak for our dinner after riding all of the trails today in the forest around the lake.

The beans cooked in the crock pot while Eddie and I rode. I took the GPS again. And the camera. It only worked about half of the time. I think I might be accidentally turning it off when I handle it. I need something to carry it in that I can see it and not drop it. Don’t have any ideas, but here’s hoping.

We rode the longest trail first. It was six miles. It was a very good ride and had some variety. There was lots of woods riding but it also skirted all the way around some open fields. There were not much hill ground and it was not steep by any stretch of the imagination.

When we returned to the place that the yellow trail split from the red, we just rode it too for another five miles.

Back at camp, we tied up the horses in their stalls and went to the trailer for a little bit of lunch. The food we had taken on the ride was now our lunch. The beans continued to cook.

The man riding the lawn mower came over and chatted with us a little while. Then we decided to get the last two mile orange trail. That did not take very long but now we had ridden it out. After a good dinner of pinto beans, we made plans.

Deciding to go on to Shimek State Park near the Iowa/Missouri line, we broke camp to travel again. I washed my saddlebag pad and hung it on the last stall pipe to dry.

As we were about ready to load up, a young woman came over with her baby boy in a stroller and two girls, I would say were about six and eight. She asked if they could pet the horses because they both loved horses.

Eddie led Dusty over and let them pet him. He stood very still and let them gently rub the big horse.

The oldest girl said, "His nose is so soft!"

Eddie loaded Dusty and I went over and got the mare. They asked about her and gave her a pet or two. We loaded her up and we were on the road again.

You guessed it. I left my clean, favorite saddle pad hanging on the stall. I didn’t even miss it until I went to get saddled the next day. Oh well. I just got distracted.

Shimek State Forest

June 22, 2004

In Knoxville, Iowa, the little town near the park, we looked for a feed store or coop. After circling the block, we left town without any more hay or feed.

On the drive down I was finally able to talk to a ranger at the park on my cell phone. It was open and we were given directions. We arrived before it was too late because it was only about 135 miles. The dually pulled up the hill where cement had been poured in a gravel road. It was probably bad to spin out in the gravel before the nice cement section of the road was provided. Then the road turned back to gravel.

Upper Lick Creek Equestrian Camp was on the left and we entered the completely deserted camp. We drove down through the huge trees and pulled into site 27, which was closest to the stalls.

There were eight stalls back to back with four on each side. Boards were on the sides, but a big green gate covered the front of each one of them. There was a roof over the stalls, but it was not waterproof. It did give shade but it was only covered in long poles placed side by side over the roof supports. That was sure better than the horses standing in the hot sun.

We always put Dusty on the outside in order that he not have any horse beside him except Teege. He might fight if he had the chance, but he won’t fight her. No other horses came before we left the next day.

Alfalfa and grass hay mix was still all we had, so that is what we fed them but we didn’t give them but a flake at a time. Usually we give them hay all of the time, but not with alfalfa. The grain was only nine percent in order to keep the protein content as low as we could. Yet, Teege was jumpier than she normally is.

The fee was again $12 and we were alone again. I was still a little bit uneasy about not having any company. As we were setting up camp, we saw a couple of trucks go past pulling trailers.

The map indicated there was a Lower Lick Creek Camp. We didn’t know that and didn’t know if we would prefer the other one, but we were unhooked now and we were not moving.

"If the horses would be ok, we could run over and look at the other camp," Ed said.

"It’s not far away and we could hurry," I added hopefully.

We jumped in the truck and drove the mile or so over there. It was just like the other camp, but there were three pickup trucks and trailers parked in the day ride area. Nobody was around, so we rushed back to our space.

In about an hour the trailers were leaving the park and we were indeed alone.

The next morning a park worker came by in a pickup truck. Eddie flagged him down and asked the usual questions. "What kind of animals are in this area, etc."

I heard them say something about rattlesnakes, but I ignored that. We may have ridden past many of them, but I have never seen one in all of the years I have been riding.

I once rode over top of a blacksnake on old Tate. Eddie and I were riding on the hill behind our house. I thought it was a stick laying across the road, but when I got closer I could see that it was a very long black snake.

"Eddie, there is a snake," I called to him.

"What kind is it?"

"Just a black snake, but it is real long."

"Does Tate see it?"

"Yes."

"Well, go on if he see it. It will probably move."

I rode the big black walking horse down to it, stepped over it and went on. The snake didn’t move and Tate couldn’t care less. It was gone before Eddie got to it.

Now I heard the park worker say something about mountain lions. I ignored that too. I had been in the land of grizzly bear and buffalo. I didn’t worry about no mountain lion or snake. They would most likely hear us first and leave before we ever saw them.

We were fortunate enough not to see a grizzly bear when we rode in Wyoming, but I saw the stare in every bison’s eye we met.

"Are there any place where the trails are dangerous," I chimed in, hoping for some encouragement for this timid rider.

"All the trails are dangerous," was the surprising answer by the young man.

I guess it is all a matter of perspective. We were going to ride. I could turn around if I didn’t like it. We saddled up and rode.

Leaving camp behind the stalls, we rode the wide trail and soon it went over the hill. We followed it until we came to a twisted trail across bottom lands in six inches or more of mud.

"I’m not riding 27 miles of mud," I said emphatically.

"We’ll just turn around and go back," was Eddie’s stock answer to any complaint I had.

"I don’t want to go back, I just want to whine a little bit," I said reminded of Terry Clark’s song "I just want to be mad for a while."

"Surely there are some ridges we can ride," I said as we slopped through the narrow trail and arrived at a river crossing. We could see tracks, so we crossed it and found it dryer on the other side as we rode up the hill and around through the woods. It was still great to be back to woods riding.

When we got back to the creek or river, I said, "I bet that is the other campground."

"Probably," Eddie answered. "That is probably park workers mowing that we hear."

It was. Eddie rode over to one man and asked if there were some ridges or trails we could ride that were not in the wet ground.

"It is all wet because we had an inch and a half of rain Monday. You might go up here and turn left and take that trail."

Going through the park we found another trail down to the end and rode on. Some of the riding was wonderful. Some was adequate. When we drew near to another water crossing, there stood a half bloodhound and a pit bull dog. The horses saw them. The dogs turned around to look behind them.

"There is probably a hiker with them," I observed as they looked back up the trail.

No hiker appeared and the bloodhound, which I promptly named Radar, came across the river and right up to us. We rode across and from that time Radar was with us. The pit bull followed us a little while and then either went home or got tired.

Radar had a bright orange collar on but the little circles that might hold a name tag hung empty. He looked a little hungry but not starving but he was very devoted. He jogged along sometime behind, sometime in front and every now and then along side of us. Once he yelped when Teege hit him with a foot as she was gaiting. I screamed for him to get out of the way. I didn’t want the mare to fall and me get hurt over a dog that wasn’t mine.

Usually he stayed clear of her feet after that.

There was no marked trail to match the map we had, but at least there were some "You are Here" markers that appeared on the map. We rode some trails and turned back. One ended at a river without any signs of horses crossing. The sand looked deep and I didn’t want to chance it, so I turned on the trail around the edge of the river that went back up the hill.

"You can go on across if you want to, but I don’t like the looks of it," I told my husband.

"There are no tracks and the sand looks deep. We can go another way if you want."

I did want. If he and Dusty had safely made it, I would have gone on. If I had not been along, I am sure Eddie and Dusty would have plowed right through anything.

Eddie spent years on the side of really steep mountains in West Virginia. He did reclamation on surface coal mines with a D-6 Caterpillar bull dozer. Another dozer would hold him with a cable and raise and lower him up the side of a mountain.

"Eddie ain’t afraid of nothing," I always say, "But I am!"

My father was a very careful man and we always went to great lengths to prevent injury. He told of his mother requiring them to take a bucket and go all around the yard and the barn and pick up any glass or wire that might have been dropped during the winter. This was a choir that had to be done every spring before they were allowed to go barefoot.

Daddy would turn over rakes, put up tools or anything else he perceived as a danger. He would almost not allow mother to use a kitchen knife because she was always cutting herself. Funny. Our son Keith does his wife the same way.

My father drove carefully and he was the first to buckle up a seat belt when they first came out. When my children became of age to drive we bought them a car, I always requested they "Buckle up for Papa Froud." I also told them, "Every good race car driver buckles up," and "You can drive a lot better if you stay under the wheel."

I also came from a long line of people with low blood pressure. I guess that is what makes us faint at the slightest provocation. Like getting a blood test, a flu shot, getting a tooth pulled or even seeing anybody’s blood.

Now caution is my middle name and I marry fearless Eddie. I have held my breath and tried to be brave many times so he would not know of my sometimes unreasonable fear and be disgusted with me.

No doubt Eddie has had to turn around many times when he wanted to push on. I get chest pains if he drives over 70 in the dually hauling the horses in the trailer, especially if my horse is in the back. He would smoke everything on the highway if I were not there hyperventilating!

Ed has rheumatoid arthritis and takes prednisone. If he wears a short sleeve shirt when he trail rides, he frequently comes home with blood dripping off his arm because a branch scratched him. He has the "get a bigger hammer" approach, where I say "if it doesn’t work easily, it is on there wrong." He operates bulldozers and I operate computers.

As we turned back at the doubtful river crossing, we climbed back up the hill on a narrow trail winding in and out through the trees. Eddie dares Dusty to get too close to a tree and hit his knees.

When we got to the top of the hill, there was number 16. Now we could locate where we were.

"Can we get off and take a break?"I asked, relieved at some indication that we were not really lost.

"Sure. If you want to."

I slid off the saddle in my adopted way to avoid injury. That is, I stood in the left stirrup and swung my right leg over. Then I leaned over the saddle and kick my left foot free and slid down the side of the horse until both feet hit the ground.

I have a friend in England who had a friend fall getting off her horse. The horse stood still, but when the woman had full pressure on the left stirrup, she fell backwards on her neck and head. She was wearing a helmet but she broke her neck and is now a full quadriplegic.

I asked Mollie to explain to me the best way to get off a horse. Now that is what I do.

Now dismounting that way also requires great care. We have a friend who got her bra hung on the saddle horn and dangled that way for some time. Her friend had to come and lift her off that saddle horn so she could escape the trap.

"If that happens again, I’m going to take it off and hang it in a tree," she declared.

So if one day you are riding in the woods and see a bra hanging by the side of the trail, you will know Kay was there.

After resting a while and trying to make a rational plan with the trail map, we chose to go back off the hill and take the five trail back to the campground. At five, we turned left and rode out to four. On a deep muddy trail through the low ground, Dusty stepped in mud up to his knees!

"Oh. Durn!" I yelled as Teege stepped into the unreasonably deep mud and put me back in the whining mode. After a little distance where no improvement appeared, we turned back and rode back up to the number five.

Winding around and through trees and up and down hills and over soft drains, I wondered if we were even going the right way. The big pine trees were so tall and straight that it was like we were riding through a field of leafy telephone poles.

"I really like this," I told Eddie.

"What?"

"The big, tall pine trees and this path through it."

When I saw old Dixie (the camper/horse trailer) through the trees across the road, I let out a sigh of relief. We were on the right trail after all!

It was a good ride, but rain had made many of the trails too wet. Several of the trails were superb and we rode with delight. Riding walking horses, we really enjoy the chance to go a little faster gait. There was some of that too.

Because we have been on the road for about six weeks, we found that we like to only travel between 100 and 150 miles a day. We can do more if we need to, but that is what we prefer. That makes two to three hours travel a day, leaving time to get the horses settled and then get camp set up before dark. Sometimes we take a short ride, depending on the circumstances.

Today, we are back by two and we have time to travel.

"It’s supposed to rain this evening and tonight. There is no use staying here. Let’s move on," I told Ed.

"Where to?"

"Either Siloam or Cuvier."

"Have you called them?"

"No. I can’t get out. We’ll call on the road."

"OK. Let’s go," Ed said and started the process.

"I’m tired breaking camp," I told Eddie as he hustled around hooking up the dually.

Before long, the horses were loaded and we bade a fond farewell to Shimek State Park. We didn’t ride all of the trails, but they were really too wet to ride some of them. We did well. Time to move on.

If shook my head in wonder at the fine horse parks in the State of Iowa.  I am so proud of them and I plan on going back to West Virginia and encourage our state to get on the ball and join the wonderful provisions they have made for the horse people.

Taking Route 2 west to Farmington, we turn on 81 and within minutes we are in Missouri.