The Wolves Howled Outside Our Tent...

Karina and I have returned from our fantastic adventure with Wagons West, and let's get your most burning questions out of the way here at the outset: no, there were no showers. Your washing options were a tin basin you filled with cold water, then warmed by adding hot water that was boiling over the wood fire. A wagon with four fold-down wooden shelves on the outside served as your washing-up area, and on one of the shelves a hand-held mirror had been propped. Karina and I avoided that like the plague. We really didn't want to know how we looked.

The other option was the creek, or "crick", as it is pronounced in them thar parts. The waters in this creek were about 42°F. One of our companions, Mary (more about her later), said she just wanted to see what it was like to wash her face in water that cold. One of the cowboys, probably Jack (one of the cooks), said you could find out easily enough by getting ice out of your freezer and rubbing it on your face. On our second day at the camp, several people jumped into the van that would take them to the creek; two of the Wagons West crew went along and actually bathed, at least partially, in the creek. They looked a little blue when they returned, but

on the other hand, if you, like the cowboys, have spent days and days in the wilderness, the cold was probably better than having to smell yourself.

The potty facilities were of course more important than the bathing amenities. Here you have them: "The Ladies". "The Men" was on the other side of the wagon. The chemical toilets were fine, but there were indeed nuances. You needed a flashlight to find the potty wagon at night, and it was cold as all get-out. At least it seemed that way until you sat down on that seat inside "The Ladies", when the term "cold" somehow did not quite cover the experience. It is a miracle our butts didn't stick to the seat, forcing others to pry us off like a tongue stuck to a popsicle.

Another problem was the fact that we didn't change our campsite on the third day, as was scheduled, because the farrier showed up to shoe the 30-odd horses we had with us. By day four "The Ladies" was being studiously avoided by most of us, unless the urgency of the situation made it impossible not to visit the place. Let me put this as euphemistically as possible: there are certain natural functions the products of which one would wish to remain at a distance, and the greater the distance the better. By day four, "The Ladies" had cut that distance down to an alarming extent, and several people chose Imodium over relief just in order to avoid the experience.

As for the trail rides, well, let's just say that Karina and I became experts at Dixie cup facilities and even began to prefer them over "The Ladies" by day four.

In our next blog, more pictures and comment on the adventure itself.