Sesquicentennial Wagon Train: Right out of history

Minnesota's Statehood Day isn't until Sunday, but 65 hardy souls started the party early as part of the Sesquicentennial Wagon Train.

In all, about 85 people, on horseback and in covered wagons, buggies, surreys and one stagecoach, will take the trek this week, a 100-mile journey that started Monday in Cannon Falls and ends Sunday at the State Capitol.

The arrival of the wagon train in St. Paul, along Summit Avenue and down Cathedral Hill to the Capitol, is the linchpin for the kickoff for the state's 150th birthday celebration.

Riders met Sunday at the Cannon Valley Fairgrounds to get rested for an early start Monday.

Pete Karpe came from his farm in St. Francis, bringing his Percheron draft horses Trixie and Dixie, as well as his son, Mark, a capable, horse-mad 14-year-old.

Susan Longling, of Farmington, a confessed wagon-train addict, brought her Prince to pull the surrey she'd converted from her grandfather's dairy (and bootleg liquor) cart.

Lee Topp, a former history teacher, brought a team to draw the wagon that Rick Schmidt, a carpenter, built for wagon train outings. Both are from Lakeville.

Others came from Bemidji, Hastings, Maple Grove, Waseca, Lakeville and Otsego, to name a few. Many are veterans of a similar trek last year, sponsored by the Anoka County Historical Society to celebrate the county's sesquicentennial.

As a strong sun broke through the crisp morning air, wagon master Jon Olson shouted, "Wagons, ho!" and the caravan rattled across the fairgrounds, onto the road. Karpe had some trouble at the start, when the rig he drove became stuck in the mud. But once on the road, Dixie and Trixie easily caught pace with the group, their shod hooves ringing on the asphalt.

Townsfolk lined the streets of Cannon Falls, gathering before homes and shops to smile, wave and snap pictures. Farther along, students crowded at the edge of Hwy. 19.

"Got any candy?" a high schooler called.

A group of elementary kids held a hand-lettered sign: "Happy Birthday, Minnesota!"

The caravan continued, past bare fields and stands of cedar and elm.

Late in the morning, the group circled for a break, to give the horses a drink and the humans a chance to stretch their legs and visit the biffy trailer.

Clay Christian is the logistics man, making sure everything goes smoothly when the wagons aren't moving.

"We've got it easy," he said. "We've got county roads to go down, bridges to go across, no cliffs to take the wagons apart and lower 'em down."

The covered wagon is an icon of the American frontier. Still, in the 1850s, most arrived by water, via Mississippi steamboat. From there, with the Big Woods of Wisconsin and the Mississippi behind them, settlers fanned out, often in wagons, all over the state.

The covered wagon was like the 19th century sport-utility vehicle, said Matt Anderson, a curator for the Minnesota Historical Society who specializes in transportation artifacts.

And contrary to the archetype, wagons weren't meant for people. Usually, they were packed with luggage or cargo.

"Anybody who could walk, I'm sure did," Anderson said.

Although the rigs at camp are more or less authentic, it's hard to ignore some of the comforts of today: coolers, lawn chairs, RVs, digital cameras and the occasional chiming cell phone.

The second half of the morning was a progression of hilly dirt trails.

Longling and Lynn Besch, of Ramsey, one of the trip's planners, met last year, when Besch was a "wagon bum" at the Anoka event. They hadn't met since, but they cozied up in the front seat of Longling's surrey Monday, cackling like old friends.

Longling likes to be at the end of the line.

"You get to see all the excitement from the end," Besch said.

They were right. A "green" horse three times took his driver off-road. A mule seeking his pasturemate took off, throwing his rider in the tall ditch grass. Longling looked out for those ahead, calling in outriders to aid drivers in distress.

When the group circled at noon, wagon master Olson was philosophical.

"I'm hoping for a better day tomorrow," he said Monday. "The first day's always an adjustment."

But across the pasture, Topp and Schmidt were smiling.

Schmidt nodded. "A bad day doing this," he said, "is still better than a good day doing anything else."

Maria Elena Baca • 612-673-4409