Mom sets out on the Trail |
Luckily, Mom took her camera along, and she made a bunch of pictures for me to use in my blog. So now I am going to show you the pictures and tell you about them.
One of many informative trail markers |
The Missouri River, which you can just barely see past the tops of the trees |
A butterfly bush |
This house has nothing to do with the Trails. Mom just thinks it is pretty. |
Rice-Tremonti House |
The Santa Fe Trail signs were only put up a few years ago. |
This is how some swales look from the bottom of the hill. |
It's a little easier to see them if you look down the hill, especially where the grass got mowed. |
Another trail marker |
Some metal cutouts on a hill near a school |
A boarded-up house that has nothing to do with the Trail |
The first river that the wagon trains had to cross was the Big Blue. In those days, there was no bridge, and sometimes the river was high and fast and hard to cross. Later on, a bridge got built, and it was called Red Bridge, because it was red. A year or so ago, a brand new Red Bridge was built, and it is very pretty and modern-looking, but it's not very red.
The new Red Bridge |
Kit Carson |
The old Red Bridge |
In my opinion, the Big Blue River does not look big, and it doesn't look blue. In the spring, when there is a lot of rain, the river can get big and it can even flood. But right now, with the drought going on, it does not look very big. It would be pretty easy to cross it with a wagon now, but what would be even easier would be to just drive your wagon across one of the two Red Bridges.
Back before the new Red Bridge got built, if there was a train coming, you had to wait for it to go by before you could drive across the tracks. But the new bridge goes over the train tracks and also the river, so there is no more waiting.
A very long freight train |
Graffiti on the train. I hope it doesn't say something nasty! |
This is maybe Mom's favorite grave ever in any cemetery. We wish we knew the story of the horse thief, but we don't. Probably what happened was that some man was trying to steal a horse or a bunch of horses, and he got shot while he was doing it. But then nobody knew who he was, so the only thing they could put on his gravestone was "The Horse Thief." It's kind of sad that a person has to be known forever by this one thing he did, and not by his name or age or anything else.
Here's a grave of a Confederate soldier who was in a sharp shooter unit.
And here's a woman whose first name was Missouri, which seems a little odd.
These 3 children didn't even have names, probably because they all died when they were born.
And this stone might be the saddest of all, because of all the hopes that got buried.
Okay, well, I don't have any more photos to show you because Mom got tired of doing the tour thing, so she came home and took a nap instead of finishing it. Now she will have to go out next week and do the last part. I don't know if she's going to take her camera or not, but if she does, I might have more photos to show you.
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