It was 1994. My five sisters and I were invited to the Big Island of Hawaii by our brother, Lester, and his wife, Ruth. They are both retired schoolteachers, who rent a condo on the Big Island, a few months of the year. This is where my sister and I had our infamous “nice” casual horse and buggy ride.
Actually, our trip started in Pennsylvania, at our sister, Gladys’ home. She was unable to go on this trip, but that didn’t stop her from giving us a great Bon Voyage. We had leis, freshly picked from her garden, a delicious meal of shish kabob over rice, salad, and fruit. We all slept over and Gladys took us to the airport the next morning.
Once we landed in Hawaii, we were greeted by Lester and Ruth with official leis. They were great hosts and quite knowledgeable about the island terrain, flowers, and history. Our days and evenings were filled with sightseeing, luaus, lava fields, rodeos, botanical gardens, antique shops, food, and more.
All of us had read about the western treks in wagons to find new land in America. So when Lester approached us about a wagon tour, we agreed to go. We felt the tour group would certainly cater to the comfort of older people. After all, we ranged in ages 70 to 56, me being the youngest. Lester even called it “a nice casual horse and buggy ride in the valley.” We called it “a dangerous trek in the valley.”
Let me explain why the sisters determined this to be a dangerous trek, while our brother didn’t have the faintest idea of any danger what-so-ever. In order to get to this valley, we had to travel the steep grade (25%) down into the valley. We had the choice of hiking down, but refused thinking a ride would save our weary bones. A driver took us down on a 4-wheeler. Not only were we descending on our 4-wheeler, but other 4-wheelers were ascending – at the same time! It’s not that we expected a two lane highway, but we did feel there should be some communication between drivers as to whose turn it was to go up or down the hill. This road wasn’t wide enough for two 4-wheelers to pass each other. Ours ended up being the 4-wheeler that straddled the ledge (no guardrails), while the other 4-wheeler flew by on our left.
The ad for the tour stated the “wagon had cushioned seats, Amish springs and GM shocks for a smooth, comfortable ride.” What the ad didn’t tell you is they meant “while its not moving.” The two mule driven buggy looked as if they hadn’t had time to finish it in the production line. All sides were open. It seated possibly 8-9 people, plus the driver. Oh, the seats were comfortable all right, but they missed inserting seat belts.
Just getting into the buggy was a problem, especially with sisters who already had knee problems. We had to step onto a wooden crate to get up inside the buggy. Janetta had the hardest time, until Lester shoved her up by the rear. She thinks he mistook her behind for a mule.
I think Lester was beginning to understand – this trek idea of his was no fun for the sisters. He distanced himself by sitting up front with the wagon master.
Although it scared us, when the mules bolted before the driver had a tight hold on the reins, we thought it was funny when Lester’s head jolted back. Let him be afraid for a change, we thought.
The brochure was correct in that, as we rode around the valley, we saw beautiful tropical foliage, taro patches, waterfalls, and even wild horses. But, in addition, throughout the ride, there were mud puddles, probably from a rain the night before. The driver never ceased to slow the mules down while speeding through the puddles. The sisters had another good chuckle, when a splash from one of the puddles hit Lester in the face.
At intervals, the knowledgeable wagon drivers stopped and told the history of the ancient valley and its legends. At one point, we were headed toward a shallow stream. I wasn’t sure what the driver was doing but I knew it was unsafe to cross. So I questioned, “Are we turning around here? There are too many big rocks in that stream to cross safely.”
“No, no,” he laughed. “That’s just a few small stones. The mules know what their doing.”
“Looks like boulders to me!” I yelled back.
With that he laughed and yelled, “Giddyup, giddyup!” As we raced like crazy across the “boulder” hewn stream. Luckily, we made it. Even Washington didn’t have this much excitement crossing the Delaware.
On the other side of the stream, we again traveled wildly through mud puddles. I honestly felt the driver tried his best to hit them all. Maybe at the end of the day, there was a contest between drivers who hit the most mud puddles.
We felt we had about finished with the trek on the other side, so we looked for our exit. Alas, the driver turned back towards the stream, with the boulders, we just came across. Janetta was concerned her bad hip would rip out of its socket. Actually, we were all scared to death. In mid-stream the mules rears wobbled, hoofs slipped on the wet rocks (boulder to us). We knew if the mules fell, we did too! Soon the driver asked some of us to get out. He felt the load was too heavy for the mules. Why he didn’t ask the knowledgeable sisters, I don’t know.
Lester, Dorothy, and another lady jumped into the creek. I had no idea if we were safer in the buggy or in the creek. Once the driver got the mules and buggy on the other side, the passengers got back in. Finally, our “nice casual horse and buggy ride” was over! We only had one more ordeal – the ride back up to safe ground, a car with seat belts to get us back to the condo safely.
Once in the car, I confided, “I’m not sure if I urinated in my pants or not.” The sister weren’t sure themselves. Lester, called us “a bunch of wimps.” And for the next three days we were in Hawaii, Lester didn’t hear anything from the sisters, except the scoldings about our nice, casual horse and buggy ride!
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to raising children to humorous stories about her and her husband to everyday stories to season stories and more.
