Griz was a big part of our Bi-Centennial Wagon Train adventure.

Our mother and Carl (whom we lovingly called ‘Griz’ because he was as big as a grizzly bear!) were married as soon as the Wagon Train ended and all departed back to their homes.

Our mother and Carl were married as soon as the Wagon Train was over.

Griz was a ‘G’ man.  His career with the CIA for over 30 years had filled our imagination with stories of espionage and intrigue.  We knew behind his smile were stories we would never come to know or hear of.  He was a man with connections, that we only caught glimpses of…like the night our bus (it truly was a school bus converted into a 4-horse trailer) broke down on the way back home from the Wagon Train.

We had gone far off route looking at a horse to buy.  The folks kindly offered us their living room floor to sleep for the night so we could repair the bus the following morning.  The entire household was awakened by firm wraps upon the front door.  Whereupon opening stood two state troopers looking for three young people.  They listed each of us by first and last name!  That was just one glimpse of Grizs’ connections.

Between the two of them stood ten children.  Griz had three grown and gone sons, and two mostly grown, though still at home, daughters.  Our mother had one grown and gone son, and two sets of twins.  All were on their own except for one twin living at the Caverns.

Griz and our mother were preparing the canoes for a trip!

Having grown children at home provided an easy answer to the question of who would care for the house and animals as Griz and our mother were preparing for a trip.  A trip that required the repair of Griz’s two Otca Old Town canoes, named Castor and Pollox.  Griz, our mother, and two other crew members were going to canoe 1,000 miles on the Mackenzie River in Canada!

The joy horses gave us were a tie that bound our mother and us together.  The glue that held our divorced mother and us close for the remainder of our lives.

We spent many happy hours riding our horses together.

Like good ‘ole fishing stories, we shared plenty of horse stories.  The pinnacle of our riding days was the summer of 1976.  The Bicentennial Wagon Train was on the roll.  Five wagon trains re-tracing the five major wagon routes across the country were heading backwards.  Valley Forge, Pennsylvania was the hub we were riding towards.  Each state had an official wagon, and the Virginia wagon with it’s entourage was heading to our place, Endless Caverns in New Market, Virginia to bivouac for the night.

We led the Wagon Train into their camping grounds at the Caverns.

Our mother waving a happy hello, with three riders, and three important support team folks.

Our official Virginia wagon.

This month-long adventure was our mothers idea.  We were to take the month off from work, horseback ride through four states, 370 miles to Valley Forge, PA.  Five of us rode. Two, teen-age boys, we teen-age twins, and our 51 year-old mother.  We broke camp on a bright early morning in June of 1976, and headed north towards PA.

It was also there, at the Caverns, where our mother met and married, Carl T. Taylor.  He would soon take her on an adventure of a lifetime.  Though we did not know it at the time, our trails together

Our mother riding her last ‘big’ horse, Snip.

had come to an end.

Time marches on and days at Arlington Hall came to a close.  Mom pushed on into a new chapter of life, her twenties, which brought marriage and family.  Horses were placed on hold or rather part-time, at least for awhile.

Before the time my twin and I could remember (we are the youngest in the family), Mom had friends who owned horses near our home in Charlottesville, Virginia.

We little twins meeting another ‘little.’

She went out as often as she was able and had we little twins in tow. She had discovered her next riding buddies, and we discovered our passion. Our training began early. We would take turns riding with her in the ring. The old horse was our teacher. Mom was teacher to the younger, more energetic horse. That horse felt huge to us as we sat astride him. Mom would laugh and urge us on.

This author cannot tell which of us is which!

A frightening memory still holds a place for us. We were watching Mom excercise her horse over jumps in the outdoor ring, when the horse went into a bucking spree. Mom flew off into the air and met with a hard thump on the ground. She lay still. Running towards her with great fear as we little twins yelled, “Mommma, Momma!” She pushed herself up from the ground and stood up. To our great relief, she was alright. She told us later that she thought herself back at Arlington Hall. It was our yelling “Momma” that shook her reverie.