Seems as though every single thing on God’s green earth possesses a subtle, inescapable, somewhat droll sense of humor. Even the basic, rudimentary forces of nature herself have a way of laughing/poking fun at you when you least imagine or expect it... And if a lad (or in this case, several lads) be smart, they’ll learn to laugh right along with Ma Nature and/or everybody else.
The Historic Wolf Hills | John Curry | Muzzle Blasts Archives
“I first set foot in this Green River country in the spring of 1769. Jim Knox, from the Wolf Hills on the Holston, led a party of us into Kentucky to hunt. Folks called us the Long Hunters because we stayed gone such a time. The country was wilderness in those days. But few white men had ever seen it, and none had settled here.”
So begins an unassuming little book called “The Kentuckians”. The great Janice Holt Giles’ epic tale of a young longhunter’s amazing experiences during the late 1760’s in that vast, totally uninhabited expanse known as “the dark and bloody ground”. Lazy High School student that I was, I chose to read The Kentuckians under odious decree of a compulsory, English class, book report. Drat! My selection of this thoroughly astounding tome, owing mainly to its diminutive and insignificant size. Little did I know… Talk about lightning in a bottle! Hah! Right then and there began my irrepressible zeal for the saga of the longhunter which still holds me in its burly grip yet today.
Once anyone becomes seriously entangled amidst the bona fide history of true, classic longhunting; various intriguing references and allusions to this place called “the Wolf Hills” begin to pop up regularly. Arising from the most inauspicious, trifling parties you seldom ever hear about to the best known and most famous woodsmen of that age: “…Daniel Boone, accompanied by several hunters, visited the Holston and camped the first night in what is now known as Taylor’s Valley. On the succeeding day, they hunted down the South Fork of Holston river and traveled thence to what was known as the Wolf Hills, where they encamped the second night near where Black’s Fort was afterwards built. It is interesting to note at this point that Daniel Boone and his companions, immediately after nightfall, were troubled by the appearance of great numbers of wolves, which assailed their dogs with such fury that it was with great difficulty that the hunters succeeded in repelling their attacks and saving the lives of their dogs, a number of which were killed or badly crippled by the wolves. The wolves had their home in the cave that underlies the town of Abingdon. The entrance to this cave is upon the lot now occupied by the residence of Mr. James L. White.” 2 Yes… Actually, the huge entrance to the infamous Wolf Cave of so much extraordinary, longhunting lore, is now wholly contained within the backyard of a beautiful, Victorian house - located in central, downtown Abingdon!
For no more than were involved in this precarious, wild and woolly vocation; the Wolf Hills became a rather well known,
far-western landmark of its time. A sort of gathering point if you will, for longhunters headed west. Practically speaking, the stalwart pre-Revolutionary War era frontiersmen who took part in these lengthy, deepwoods ventures would in fact originate from all over the southern
and mid-Atlantic colonies. Renowned longhunting leader, Isaac Lindsay was from the
tiny settlement of Newbury in western South Carolina while his older brother, Thomas Lindsay lived in Pennsylvania. The illustrious James Harrod (an important longhunter in his own right) hailed from southern Pennsylvania as well. James Knox and Henry Skaggs were both from Virginia whereas the previously mentioned, larger-than-life, Daniel Boone owned a farm in the Yadkin Valley of North Carolina. Usually rallying… joining forces under the guidance and direction of one or two experienced, highly competent men who would serve as a Captain of sorts. (And by the term “Captain”, I use that in its most vague and innocuous connotation.) The Wolf Hills of southwestern Virginia served as something of a pre-appointed, “meeting up” place where groups of professional hunters bound for the fabled, Can-tu-kee would assemble and mobilize in preparation to their impending departure.
Having no specifically appointed date, some might get there many days in advance, setting up their camp and waiting for their friends. Some might arrive shortly before - some arriving just in time to head out – with others not infrequently arriving a tad late and having
to track the company down just to catch up. The most common collection period being late spring, like May
or June, however companies of longhunters could find themselves encamped and lingering at the Wolf Hills in any month, during any season. . A general, basic date would be communicated amongst everyone connected with a particular longhunt, to present themselves there at the Wolf Hills with all the intended participants made aware of it. Typically, a comfortable amount of time would be allowed for each man to fully arm and equip himself, in addition to furnishing all the necessaries. This might encompass two or three pack horses plus his own mount, tack, powder, bar lead, trail gear, salt, a blanket or two, along with anything else he might think of: i.e. mittens, a mending box, spare flints, fishing kit, basic blacksmithing tools, etc. These obligatory essentials together with enough jerk, parched corn, coffee and sugar as he might see fit… At least enough to last until he finds himself surrounded by the unbroken forest and is able to hunt for victuals with his trusty firelock.
All this acquired, organized, packed up - and he’s ready to head out. Now repeated selection and usage of the Wolf Hills vicinity didn’t just happen by accident. All these groups of highly experienced woodsmen weren’t just stomping around in the wilderness and suddenly decided “hey, let’s set us up a camp and wait for everbody right here”. No, no. Merely arriving at this crucial place meant you’d already done your homework, received an invite, knew what you were doing and you had some pretty big plans. The Wolf Hills (as a point of embarkation) was in fact, quite strategically located upon what had been recognized from
pre-Colombian times as the old, Warriors Path. A main artery penetrating into the uncharted, unknown, colonial far-west with its major branches extending all the way out to the Mississippi as well as northward into the eastern Great Lakes. This thought-provoking moniker was in due course changed and the ancient trail itself significantly modified during the longhunting era to become “The Hunters’ Trace”. An untrustworthy, bewildering passageway beginning in earnest from Staunton, Virginia; drifting through Cumberland Gap and ultimately reaching its western terminus way out in modern-day, south-central Kentucky and further on into the French Lick region of Middle Tennessee.
Once through Cumberland Gap the tremendous amounts of game became incredible. Moving from one area to another in four week to six month intervals; semi-permanent, working/living sites better known as “station camps”; centrally established within game-rich hotspots possessing curious names like Wasioto Pass, Stinking Creek, Raccoon Springs, Skin House Branch, Knob Licks, Big South Fork and the Barrens would serve as these longhunters’ various and sundry, homes-away-from-home… Any given company sustaining this rootless, nomadic lifestyle most often for a grand total of anywhere from one to two and a half years. Common procedure was for hunters to radiate out from those temporary station camps in all directions – north, south, east and west. Either by themselves or in little groups of two or three for a period of roughly, ten days to nearly three weeks. Due to the sheer numbers of hides and furs, game would be skinned on site and brought back to the station camp for half-dressing, then stored away in large hide houses to await their eventual transportation back over the mountains to the trading posts. This comprised the everyday business of the longhunter: Roam the Hunters’ Trace into the west. Establish station camps here and there. Kill/process game. Take it all back east - and reap your new-found wealth. Notwithstanding… Right here, in the Wolf Hills of Virginia. Just a stone’s throw east of Moccasin Gap - is where the game was initially set in motion.
A fleeting handful of years and the grand adventures passed on by with southwestern Virginia becoming increasingly more populated... By degrees, more civilized and conspicuously developed. Homesteads, towns, stockades springing up here and there. The days of an unsettled, wild and unbroken Virginia frontier were slowly turning into timeworn, half-forgotten memories. Our youthful, vibrant nation had determined to improve and cultivate the west. Longhunting was on the wane and a different kind of frontier was emerging: “Soon after the arrival of Mr. Robertson on the Watauga (1772)… it became settled from the Wolf Hills, where Abingdon, in Virginia, now is, to Carter’s Valley.” 3 Alas (as with everything else in the course of history) the Wolf Hills, longhunting and indeed, the longhunter himself shortly thereafter, slipped away; almost imperceptibly fading off into obscurity. But not the wolf! Distinguished Revolutionary War era, Virginia/Kentucky frontiersman, William Clinkenbeard laments: “The wolves used to come and take the pigs and things close up around the Station...”4 (I’ll bet they did.) Virginia would be a while yet shaking off her wolf population. Not unlike the vanishing longhunter during his brief heyday… hunting was in their blood. They knew nothing else. If the situation wasn’t working where they were, if problems developed, if the game played out – they’d simply adjust or otherwise drift off entirely, to another “canine” station camp.
The Wolf Hills might be lost… a thing of the past but this to the wolves was only a minor, inconsequential setback. The wolves would never yield. They weren’t created to yield. In the midst of unendurably hard times, they merely repositioned themselves; while simultaneously adapting and redefining their tactics for survival with regard to these strange, dangerous, highly sophisticated, human predators. Avoid them when they had to; eat them when they could… Food is where you find it ya know – either at home or on the trail.
Traveling westward into Kentucky with his family and a small group of settlers, late eighteenth century pioneer John Hedge tells us: “Wolves came around the wagons again. They were mighty bad in them days in Kentucky, on young cattle, horses and calves.”5 Cattle and horses, huh? Consider yourselves lucky! Guess they figured if the loathsome humans drove them off, at least they could supply ‘em with a cow or a horse every now and then… Got to do what ya got ta do, right? And pretty much nobody cares about the wolves but the wolves.
Well… Wolves are long gone now. From around these parts anyways. Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky and all through the Ohio Valley. Just like the longhunter - gone. You gotta admit though, they put up
a darned good fight. Word is they still have a few wolves way out in the modern-day west. A very few… But from what I hear, most people out there (farmers, ranchers and such) don’t particularly like ‘em and their days (similar to their eighteenth century cousins), sound ominously numbered. Being a carefree rambler, a roving, habitual wanderer and an unapologetic hunter myself, I’ve always sort of identified with wolves. My path through the
forest is my own. Imperfect, unexceptional no doubt, but mine nonetheless. I chase my tail, howl at the moon and drift with the wind, as my instincts decree. Yet my hunting grounds dwindle and in many places I’m no longer welcome. That wild, uninhibited, wide-open deepwoods lifestyle I’ve grown to love is increasingly becoming harder and harder to attain. Reputable, historically legitimate longhunters of today are hard pressed as well, to find even the ever-
receding scraps of it. Still we continue to roam, prowl, dream, hope against hope; hunt where/when we can. And then we move on... Sometimes I think, in my last life – I was born a wolf.
John Curry
References:
1 Giles, Janice Holt, The Kentuckians, p. 2.
2 Summers, Lewis Preston, Southwest Virginia, 1746- 1786, p.76.
3 Haywood, John, Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee, p. 55.
4 John D. Shane’s interview with William Clinkenbeard, Filson Club Quarterly, Vol. 2, No. 3, April 1928, p.105.
5 John D. Shane’s interview with John Hedge, Filson Club Quarterly, Vol. 14, No. 3, July 1940, p.181.
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Historically Accurate Trekking Boots from Fugawee
In our latest episode of the Muzzle Blasts Podcast, we talked with Suzanne Thomson about historic trekking. Footwear came up, as it often does in these conversations. Historically accurate footwear that is comfortable is always hard to find, recently Suzanne has been breaking in a pair of “Hi-Low Trekkers” from Fugawee.
If you are looking for a pair of trekking shoes, give these a look!
The NMLRA was not compensated for this post.
The Lost Brigade Revisited | Muzzle Blasts Excerpts
Seems as though every single thing on God’s green earth possesses a subtle, inescapable, somewhat droll sense of humor. Even the basic, rudimentary forces of nature herself have a way of laughing/poking fun at you when you least imagine or expect it... And if a lad (or in this case, several lads) be smart, they’ll learn to laugh right along with Ma Nature and/or everybody else.
Returning to the Wabash | Reliving History by Surviving in a Dugout Canoe with Eli Froedge and Jason Jacobs
One year to the day later, we’re back at the frontier home of Eli Froedge and Jason Jacobs as they recover from another expedition in their dugout canoe. In 2019, the pair set out to travel the Wabash river, not far from Eli’s home, south into the Ohio River.
Eli Froedge and Jason Jacobs continue their expedition of the Wabash River in a dugout canoe
Last fall, Eli Froedge and Jason Jacobs struck out for a trek on the Wabash river with their homemade dugout canoe. Seeking to replicate a trip down the Wabash that generations of long hunters have made before, the pair spent several days on the river camping and hunting. We met up with the pair at the Feast of the Hunters’ Moon in 2019 and listened to the adventure.
With summer coming to a close here in Indiana, the spirit of adventure returned to Eli and Jason. This year they would finish their trip down the entire Wabash River and drop into the Ohio River. This year the pair will have some more friends to join in on the adventure. Keith and Jen Syers of “Ramshackle Homestead and Survival” would join them in a period homemade bateau, and Heath Hoffmann & son who joined in on part of the trip last year will be joining Eli and Jason once again.
As of writing, the group is on its 3rd day of the 2020 expedition. Below you’ll find some of the journal entries published by Jason to his Facebook group “Historic Pathways 1750-1820”. We’ll be sharing updates as we see them and are looking forward to bringing you another interview with Eli and Jason should they desire to return to the world, haha!
Jason 9/13
We are less than a week away from striking out on the second half of our dugout canoe trip.
For those who followed along, last Fall, you know Eli and I put in on the Wabash, at Terre Haute, Indiana, and took out at Mt Carmel, IL About 115 river miles.
We are putting in at Mt Carmel, IL and the plan is to finish the Wabash, turn right into the Ohio and take out about 10-15 miles down the Ohio.
Anticipation and apprehension have been less, this year, however, we still have a rough stretch to negotiate near New Harmony and plenty of big water past that, but we have cut our food supplies and gear back, substantially and the weather is promising to be far more hospitable, than last year.
This year, we should be joined, on the first leg of our journey by Tim and
Heath Hoffman , the father and son team that paddled the last leg with us, last year, plus we are going to be joined by KeithandJen Syers for the entirety of the journey.
We should have lots of great pictures and much video footage, this trip.
I feel so very fortunate to have friends with like interests, who are willing to put in the hard work, time, and expenses that a trip like this takes. Again, we are planning to be on the water for a week. Stay tuned for what's around the next river bend, friends.
Now off to finish up a bit of kit for our travels...
Jason 9/19
Well, we are at our starting point. The water coming in on the right is the White River, left is the Wabash.
Calling for a high of 71 degrees today. 47 degrees for an overnight low.
Little excitement early in the paddle.
Our buddy Keith, KeithandJen Syers was repositioning in his bateau, about a mile and a half into the trip and his heel went through the bottom. Water rushing in like he made it out of a screen door.
Luckily, Eli and I were fairly close by in the dugout and Tim Deonna Hoffman was right next to him in his canoe. Eli and I couldn't turn the dugout around quick enough, so we paddled up the river in reverse. Lol
We saved everything but Keith's seat and of course the bateau. I did stand on the deck of the HMS Divorce and play Taps as she went under.
We made it around 14 miles to our night camp and have set camp, gathered firewood and got a fire going to cook some supper.
Jason 9/20
We made around 20-1/2 miles, today. We are camped just south of New Harmony.
Just above the old dam.
We will get a good night's sleep and tackle that obstacle in the morning.
We saw a few beaver today, three deer, lots more ducks, turtles and too many eagles to count.
No boats lost today. Only sore muscles and stiff backs.
The Historic Wolf Hills | John Curry | Muzzle Blasts Excerpts
The following article appeared first in the June 2020 Issue of “Muzzle Blasts Magazine”, the official magazine from the National Muzzle Loading Rifle Association.
“I first set foot in this Green River country in the spring of 1769. Jim Knox, from the Wolf Hills on the Holston, led a party of us into Kentucky to hunt. Folks called us the Long Hunters because we stayed gone such a time. The country was wilderness in those days. But few white men had ever seen it, and none had settled here.”
So begins an unassuming little book called “The Kentuckians”. The great Janice Holt Giles’ epic tale of a young longhunter’s amazing experiences during the late 1760’s in that vast, totally uninhabited expanse known as “the dark and bloody ground”. Lazy High School student that I was, I chose to read The Kentuckians under odious decree of a compulsory, English class, book report. Drat! My selection of this thoroughly astounding tome, owing mainly to its diminutive and insignificant size. Little did I know… Talk about lightning in a bottle! Hah! Right then and there began my irrepressible zeal for the saga of the longhunter which still holds me in its burly grip yet today.
Once anyone becomes seriously entangled amidst the bona fide history of true, classic longhunting; various intriguing references and allusions to this place called “the Wolf Hills” begin to pop up regularly. Arising from the most inauspicious, trifling parties you seldom ever hear about to the best known and most famous woodsmen of that age: “…Daniel Boone, accompanied by several hunters, visited the Holston and camped the first night in what is now known as Taylor’s Valley. On the succeeding day, they hunted down the South Fork of Holston river and traveled thence to what was known as the Wolf Hills, where they encamped the second night near where Black’s Fort was afterwards built. It is interesting to note at this point that Daniel Boone and his companions, immediately after nightfall, were troubled by the appearance of great numbers of wolves, which assailed their dogs with such fury that it was with great difficulty that the hunters succeeded in repelling their attacks and saving the lives of their dogs, a number of which were killed or badly crippled by the wolves. The wolves had their home in the cave that underlies the town of Abingdon. The entrance to this cave is upon the lot now occupied by the residence of Mr. James L. White.” 2 Yes… Actually, the huge entrance to the infamous Wolf Cave of so much extraordinary, longhunting lore, is now wholly contained within the backyard of a beautiful, Victorian house - located in central, downtown Abingdon!
John Curry
To read the full article, subscribe to Muzzle Blasts TODAY
References:
1 Giles, Janice Holt, The Kentuckians, p. 2.
2 Summers, Lewis Preston, Southwest Virginia, 1746- 1786, p.76.
3 Haywood, John, Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee, p. 55.
4 John D. Shane’s interview with William Clinkenbeard, Filson Club Quarterly, Vol. 2, No. 3, April 1928, p.105.
5 John D. Shane’s interview with John Hedge, Filson Club Quarterly, Vol. 14, No. 3, July 1940, p.181.
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Shelter Series: Tent Stakes | Andrew Shook
Follow along as Andrew Shook shares how to make some simple tent stakes for your next historical trek.
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