It’s 8:50 a.m. on a cool June morning and Joe Yocum sits in the driver’s seat of his vintage wooden-wheeled wagon waiting to begin the day’s 10-mile trip. As he fidgets with his horse reins, it’s hard to tell if Yocum, 70, is more eager to begin than his two Belgian horses, Sugar and Spice.

“Let’s go boys, we got a long way to go,” he said to no one in particular. “Daylight’s a-burning.”

Yocum is second in the 16-team train that makes up the 22nd annual Round-Up Wagon Train, which ran from Monday through Friday. The train is 20 minutes late getting under way when the wagons finally start to come together, lining up behind Yocum’s. When they all stretch out on the trail, those wagons will be escorted by nearly 100 people on horseback for the trek through the Blue Mountains .

Yocum’s great-grandfather crossed the plains and traveled to Oregon in the 1840s. But he would not recognize this wagon train. Not unless his party had a nine-person catering crew who rose at 4 a.m. to prepare a buffet breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, coffee cake, bagels and a splash of Canadian whiskey for coffee. Nor did Yocum’s great-grandfather sleep in an RV or camp trailer.

For $260, the 160 participants of the wagon train get three catered meals a day, all the beverages they can drink, all the hay their horses can eat and the Forest Service permits necessary to make the trek. Of course, owning a wagon is an expensive hobby, said Paul Green, chairman of Round-Up Wagon Train. Expenses include a good team of horses and a vintage wooden-wheeled wagon, which could cost thousands of dollars to restore or build.

In years past, the wagon train committee was more strict on the type of wagons that could participate. Only wagons that resembled the prairie schooners that crossed the Plains to Oregon were invited. In this year’s train, many come from that stock: 10 to 12 feet long and about five feet wide. All are covered by a high, rounded canvas. But other types of wagons are also allowed, such as the democrat wagon – so-called because nearly everyone drove one – eight feet long and three feet wide, pulled by a single horse. Then there is the sheepherders wagon, long enough to hold two in the front and up to six adults in the back.

“Wagons Ho,” Wagon Master Gregg Zessin finally called out. Yocum’s wagon lurches forward and is soon clipping at a steady pace of three mph.

With two leather straps wrapped around his chapped hands, a wad of Cougar long cut in his mouth and a handlebar mustache, Joe Yocum looks the part. Standing, he reaches 5-foot-8 wearing his cowboy hat. But in the wagon, he sits nearly 10 feet above the ground as he surveys the land looking for the best path for his horses to take. Joe and his horses have been together 10 years and have logged more than 5,000 miles.

His first mate is his granddaughter, Heather Yocum, a sophomore at Heppner High School. At 15, she has at least 10 years experience driving horses. Unlike many of the participants who dress in pioneer garb, Heather wears a blue sweatshirt and ripped blue jeans. When she drives Sugar and Spice, she wears a pair of leather gloves and lazily drapes her Air Jordans, worn without socks, over the metal foot rest. As the train crawls forward, the woods are filled with the sound of rattling chains and creaking wood. The group soon hits dust, at least two inches thick. The horses kick it up, the wheels stir it up and silky dust falls everywhere in sheets. The other wagons disappear.

“It makes you feel like you’re really on the Oregon Trail,” said Susan Conner, who is riding aboard their wagon with her twin sister, Sharon Sharpneck.

The train stops often. Keeping 16 wagons moving forward remains difficult. Caramel brownies and Rice Crispies are passed around.

On the road again, the train soon encounters a hill – or “pull” as teamsters call it. Joe and Heather cajole their horses, trilling their tongues and screaming: “Come on, Sugar. Come on, Spice. Go girls.” The horses push on.

Under way again after a break, the wagon train moves from the wooded hills to a nearly treeless plateau that offers a picture-perfect view of Blue Mountains. The dust has been replaced by bone-rattling rocks. Small rocks, as Joe calls them, as excitement shines in his eyes.

“This part is super good,” he beams. “Real rough.”

It’s bumpy. The wagon bounces and lurches forward, tossing everything in the rear of wagon: Joe’s bed, clothes and supplies. Only the beer cooler remains in place.

“Now you can see why these pioneers walked,” he said.

The train finally pulls out of the rocks. Only the sound of trotting horses can be heard and all the eye can see is wagons stretched out in the woods behind. The train climbs again and finally levels out. The horses move quickly now and the breaks are fewer on this flat ground. The train stops for lunch and members feed and water their tired horses. In two-and-a-half hours, the train has traveled a little more than six rough and dusty miles. While the distance traveled was not great, Joe Yocum still feels he gains knowledge every time he climbs aboard his wagon.

“You have much more feeling of what the pioneers did and great appreciation for those two critters in front of you,” he said.