“I want you all to look,” Lane said as she held out the Yahoo driving directions, “We go right by Cherokee Trail Ride on our way to Natchez Trace and it is about half way there. Why don‘t we stop there for a couple of days and ride a little bit and then go on to Tennessee.”

We all knew Lane had been wanting to go ride at Cherokee for some time. This seemed like a perfect time to do it and make the trip a little easier.

“Sounds good to me,” I added. I had never really heard of either place, but Lane had suggested one or the other of them before we left for Alabama. She even had us a guide lined up for both places. I was glad it could work out that way because I had no idea when we would be back in the state. Eddie had never been to Alabama and I had not been there in about 50 years!

“That’s what we will do then,” Lane said, since both of our husbands seemed to also approve. “Harold, you clean windows in the truck and dig plants.”

Molly came and got the Windex and paper towels and went off to clean the windshield. Harold got a spade and worked for half an hour trying to dig the prairie lily out of the sand and dirt. The big pecan tree had the lily secure in the tangle of its roots and finally I called off the job. Harold had broken his shovel, chopped roots, dug with his hands and a post hole digger. We had broken off most of the tops of several of the bulbs and we had nothing that would live.

“Just mail me one when you next get one out of the ground,” I said. I really wanted to take one for my garden. Lane had said she brought the flower from her mother’s house.

“It’s Wal-Mart time.” Lane yelled, as an indication that it was time to hit the road. They had explained before that what they forgot, they could get at Wal-Mart and if Wal-Mart didn’t have it, they didn’t need it.

Horses were loaded, maps were available, the GPS was on, the CB was working. We were going trail riding.

Lane did all of the driving after Harold’s eye problem. She pulled the rig and we followed. We filled up with fuel and finally arrived at I-65. The fellows on channel 19 were talking about the accident on I-65 and the five mile back up of traffic. Lane chose to get off Exit 205 and take Route 31 north and avoid the accident. There was a long line of trucks doing the same thing, but at least this line was moving well. There was a little bit of trash talk on the Citizens Band Radio, but we stayed tuned in order to get the highway news. Finally at Calera we pulled back on I-65.

I kept noticing the Cracker Barrel signs, since we had discussed stopping there for a meal in order that we had to neither cook or clean up when we arrived in camp. At the third one Lane got off the exit and pulled into the RV parking lot. A great meal was served and the women got in a little shopping.

Eventually we approached Cherokee.

Lane got on the radio and said, “Harold said we would probably pull up to a locked gate.”

When we got there it was exactly what happened and not a soul was in sight. The truck behind us stopped and a man yelled, “Go on to the top of the hill and turn around. I’ll call her and tell her to come open the gate for you.”

Soon a tall blonde German woman arrived with a bunch of keys and let us in the campground. They had been full last week, but they had not planned on having anybody around today. We had been unable to get anything except a recording about making reservations for next week.

We went into the office and paid for two nights and I bought T-shirts for all of the grandchildren and myself. We parked the trailers and settled the horses in the barn. We had some trouble finding the lights, but eventually they flashed on. I put a cut off on the hose, but the pressure is so great that water blasts out of the hose. Later, I was watching as Molly turned the water on. It sprayed out so fast that it scared her and several of Harold’s horses spooked in their stalls. I laughed, but not loud enough that Molly could hear.

Lane and Harold left to find ice and a store. While they were gone Missy and her father arrived. Missy is the woman that the Wilsons know by the newsletter and email, but they have never met her personally. She had volunteered to act as their guide if they came to ride at Cherokee.

“Come on in and sit down. Harold and Elaine have gone to the store, but they will be back in a few minutes,” Eddie said.

I had laid the couch down, but we gathered in our little eight-foot shortwall trailer and talked a little and soon Harold, Lane and Molly returned and joined our little group. Introductions were made and stories began. Molly excitedly told everybody that when she was young her hair was exactly the same deep red as Missy’s hair is now. At this time, Molly has a very light strawberry blonde shade. It was a great visit with now more new friends and a schedule to go riding at 10 am the next morning.

Missy and her husband Shawn pulled into the lot about 9:30 am with their two black and white walking geldings. Eddie had been planning on being ready early all morning and we were able to accomplish it. We took lunch since the ride was to last more than five hours.

The trails had ribbons and there was a map, but it was not really possible for us to ride unguided because it was now bow season and landowners had closed some of the trails to horses.

Harold was busy saddling three horses. He had saddled Chico and turned him loose with the dragging rope. Now Chico did not want to be caught. Harold walked in and out of the trees following the evading horse.

“He knows that I am going to ride him. He doesn’t like me,” Molly said.

Soon Chico was caught and everybody mounted up. Missy and Shawn led out of camp, through the small trees in a field, followed the detour trail around the muddy path and stopped in the creek for a drink.

We passed another field of trees and Missy told us, “When Don bought this farm, the man told him these were lemon trees. They aren’t anything but oak trees.”

There were a few entertaining signs like “Indians swam here and they were naked.” Also posted were useful ones such as directions to Johnson Ridge.

Teege was prancy again and Eddie and I slipped out in front to let them wear off some of their energy. Missy would tell us, “We are going to ride up to that point and along that ridge,” so Eddie and I could move out ahead.

We crossed the big field and climbed the open field hill. At the gate was an orange ribbon so we rode inside and waited. Missy directed us to a flag in the field which was the top of the knob field where we could get the best view of the entire area. We took several pictures and then continued down the other side, across another large field and through another open gate into a dirt road.

The dirt road was followed and we came to an ancient iron bridge that had two solid paths of wide boards nailed onto the floor. We crossed the bridge and entered another field.

“Did you all say you wanted to ride the creek?” Missy asked.

“We like creek riding.” I said.

“How deep do you like to ride?”

“Not too deep. How deep is it?” Lane inquired.

“Well, over here it is about chest deep on my horse,” Missy replied. “We can go on up through the field and get in the creek where it is not as deep.”

“Lane likes to swim, but I prefer about a foot deep or less.”

“Not today. It’s too cold to get wet. Let’s do that where it isn‘t so deep,” Lane said after getting a nod from both Molly and myself.

We crossed the field and rode up a little bank where a big blue barrel was beside the trail. When we got there Teege whirled with me. I turned her back and she went past it, but she gave it plenty of room in case it jumped out to get her. I didn’t realize that she was not very familiar with big blue barrels.

When we got to the creek, Missy said, “You can go down into the creek here and ride up and come out at the crossing. Daddy told me not to ride the creek today, so I will meet you up there.”

Eddie took up the creek with Dusty splashing his way. He is a good creek horse, meaning that he would get a lot of people wet if they were anywhere near him. Teege followed Dusty and it was as deep a creek as I wanted. It probably was above their knees, but it may have been more because I got my boots real wet and even a little bit got inside them.

We got up to the end and turned around to watch Harold, Lane and Molly ride the creek toward us.

“I should have stayed in the back so I could splash Harold,” Eddie said regretfully.

We continued on the trail that lead into the woods where several people expressed their appreciation of the path under the cover of the trees.

“I’m back in the saddle again…” Eddie sang a few lines.

“In 1814 we took a little trip,” somebody started and others joined in. Surprisingly, we knew about all of that one. I didn’t realize until we were done that it contained the line, “we fought the bloody British.” I hoped it didn’t offend Molly, who was visiting from England.

“I want to be a cowboy’s sweetheart . . .” Lane stated and then completed the entire song, including the yodeling! It was followed by a round of applause.

We followed the trail through the woods and eventually Missy stopped and got off her horse. She took a key and unlocked the gate in the barbed wire fence and pulled it back for us to pass. She mounted back up and told Shawn, “You can shut the gate but you don’t have to lock it. We will do that when we come back.” That property we had been riding on was owned by her father.

“What’s Harold so quiet about?” Eddie asked.

“I’m eating sunflower seeds,” he informed us.

“Now we know how to keep him quiet,” Eddie said.

“Yes. Let’s not let him run out. We’ll go to the store and buy some more when we get back to the truck,” Lane agreed.

Harold always had a story and he could go on about something for hours.

We rode on around the hill and eventually came off at the blacktop road. Shawn opened the gate this time and Missy sat in the road hollering for Sam, the donkey who lived in the pasture across the road. Sam never appeared, so we turned and crossed the bridge and continued up the highway.

Then we heard the loudest braying from Sam. He had come around to the gate and called over and over to us. It was so loud that it sounded like a horn of some kind. I could tell that Teege was listening to the animal, but I didn’t know how she felt about it.

Harold owned a mule or donkey or two, so I supposed that their horses were familiar with such antics.

“Go down the gravel road,” Missy called to us in her sweet southern accent. She sure made it easy to ride in the front and still not get lost.

Eddie and I waited and we all started down the road together. I rode beside Missy and Shawn and the three walking horses moved well together. In just a little way, we turned back into the woods on a trail that went up the hill.

At one point, Missy stopped and said, “It gets steep in some places now and the brush will hit you.”

“What is it?” Molly asked in an attempt to understand some of our American speaking,

“We’re gonna have to eat brush” I said, which was no help at all.

“There will be limbs on the trees that we have to ride through,” Lane explained, and they will hit you as you ride through.”

“Oh. All right,” Molly agreed.

It was rather rocky and a little bit steep in places, but it was not very bad.

“We’re from West Virginia, we know all about steep,” I told Missy.

We rode on and on. Eventually we came out into a clearing on the top of the hill. There were picnic tables under a great shelter, a sign directed to the rest room, and many funny signs nailed to trees. There was a sign that said “Alligator Pit” with three foot fence around it. When you looked down in the pit, it had a hole in the solid rock about as big around as a bushel basket. It angled and looked about like a slicky slide of some kind, but the hole disappeared into the solid rock.

“That hole leads to a big chamber down under the ground. One of the boys repelled down in it once. They say it is real big. We used to throw our trash down in the hole and pour lighter fluid on it and burn the trash.”

Missy explained that they have big picnics up in that area ever Labor Day and it has gone on for years.

“I assume there is a road to get up here to get all of this pipe and roofing up here,” I said.

“Yes. It is that one over there,” she said pointing beyond the area.

Very big tall trees covered the entire area and just a few feet from the shelter the rock cliff dropped off sharply. One could see for miles around and it was a perfect place for a good scenic picture.

Molly came by with her hat off and her hair flowing freely. I asked her to come over here and let me get her picture. I had chosen a place that had two small trees on either side and some purple flowers at the ground. We took the shots and I promised to send her a copy by email after I got home.

We ate our packed lunch and Eddie, Harold and Lane chose a spot and lay down on the picnic table. Eddie expressed a desire for a pillow and I tightened the cap on the large water bottle, put it in the insulated container and handed it to him.

Harold tried on of their small bottles, but it was not adequate. He looked around and said, “I think Lane is asleep. She never goes to sleep in the day time. She hardly sleeps at night, but I think she is asleep.”

We never did find out if she was or not, but she didn’t immediately deny it.

Missy and Shane sat quite content and answered questions and told us about people and places in the area.

Eddie said, “Well, we’re burning daylight,” as he got up and began gathering up stuff to put back in the saddle bags. He breaks up all parties and this was no exception.

We tightened cinches and put away lead ropes and found a low place or some stacked cinder blocks in order to let short women climb back up on tall horses.

I got Teege back in front and followed the trail quickly back the way we came. Finally I was staring at a pile of rock.

“We must have missed it somewhere,” Eddie said as he looked first one way and then the other.

“The trail is over here,” Missy yelled, “That way is a dead end.”

Eddie and I turned the horses and now joined at the end of the riders.

We came back off of the hill and hit the bottom towards the creek heading back to camp.  We all came down to the creek and crossed the creek and rode the main road back towards camp.

Eddie and I were out ahead and we returned the way we came, which was up the hill, across the knob field past the barn and down the other side.  We followed the trail back towards camp but it didn't look familiar.  While we debated whether to turn left or right, we heard riders talking up the field.  When they came in sight, we saw it was the rest of our group.  They had returned down through the field and had not climbed the hill and back down.

Missy got in front again and turned right and took us back to camp from another direction.  If there is anything better than a good trail ride, it is a good trail guide to lead you around!

Thanks again to Missy and Shawn.