Limping into Adventure at Ponca State Park

When the school year wrapped up in 2023, Josephine, Ericka, and I kicked off our summer with an unforgettable getaway to Ponca State Park in Nebraska. We chose to stay in a quaint cabin tucked away amidst the park's verdant, rolling hills. From the comfort of its porch, we admired sweeping views of the Missouri River bluffs, occasionally catching sight of white-tailed deer as they wandered silently through the surrounding forest. Our days were filled with excitement, exploring winding trails shaded by cottonwoods and oaks, swimming in the pool, and peacefully kayaking on the picturesque river, where the sunlight danced on the racing water. When evening arrived, we would sit around a glowing fire pit, toasting marshmallows for s’mores while the sky deepened from golden hues to rich indigo. The tranquility and scenic charm of Ponca State Park allowed us to unwind after the demands of school and welcome the summer feeling refreshed.

Our adventure began with my insistence on going horseback riding along the breezy trails, confident that this would be the ideal way to take in the countryside. Ericka, ever practical, quickly pointed out that it was unwise because of my notorious hip problems, yet I was determined and didn’t want to forgo such a quintessential activity. As we approached the stables, the early morning light crept across the sky and the scent of hay and leather filled the crisp air. Mounting the horse, I sensed Ericka’s concern behind me, so I flashed her a reassuring grin. With each steady stride, the horse filled me with both anticipation and an unexpected sense of ease, briefly distracting me from my discomfort. But, as the ride grew bumpier, I soon realized I should have listened to Ericka’s dire warning.

After our exhilarating horse ride, Ericka, Josie, and the ever-patient stable hand found themselves in an unexpected predicament: getting me off the horse. As the ride ended and I tried to dismount, I realized my left leg had gone completely numb and was pulsing with sharp pain, refusing to obey my brain’s commands. The others quickly circled around, offering support and encouragement as I clung awkwardly to the saddle. With Ericka gently steadying my arm, Josie bracing my back, and the stable hand expertly guiding my hips, the three of them managed, with a bit of laughter and a lot of teamwork, to carefully slide me down from the horse’s broad back. I stood shakily for a moment, grateful for their help and camaraderie, but unable to walk to the car.

A wave of dizziness and anxiety washed over me as I stood quaking on my right leg. Without delay, Ericka and Josie jumped to my aid, each grabbing an arm to steady me as I hobbled unsteadily to the car. Their soothing words helped to ease my panic, bringing some comfort to the chaotic scene. Every movement was difficult, but thanks to their support, I made it to the car, feeling deeply appreciative of their unwavering help. Once inside the car, Ericka reminded me that she’d warned me about horseback riding, while Josephine chimed in with a few mocking giggles from the back seat.

Since my leg still hurt too badly for a hike, we agreed that day two called for a change of pace. Instead of going for a hike, we opted for a leisurely day lounging by the pool, letting the sunshine and clear water melt away my lingering pain and Josephine’s school stress. The scenery surrounding the pool was as inviting as the park’s riding trails; lush green trees provided a gentle breeze and dappled shade while we relaxed in our deck chairs, and the distant calls of songbirds created a peaceful soundtrack. While kids splashed nearby and the scent of sunscreen filled the air, I let my leg rest, grateful for the cool water soothing any soreness. Sometimes, trading adventures for relaxation is just what you need to recover and truly savor the beauty of nature.

Once the third day arrived, my leg continued to throb—punishment for my questionable choice to go horseback riding. Still, I couldn’t ignore the lure of adventure that Ponca State Park offered. Rather than resting, we hauled out our kayaks and hit the Missouri River not once, but twice, winding along its scenic banks close to the park. The sparkling water and vibrant greenery made every moment worthwhile. During our second trip, we came across an unexpected surprise: tucked away in a shady spot near a curve in the river, we noticed the park’s well-known, elusive Sasquatch statue. Half concealed by tangled branches, its hilariously startled expression made us burst into laughter and take a slew of pictures. In spite of my aching leg, the sense of discovery and the soothing pace of the river made this one of the most unforgettable days of our journey.

By the fourth day, the ache in my leg had subsided enough to make a real excursion possible, and I could hardly imagine a better way to celebrate than trekking through Ponca State Park. The chill of dawn lingered, dispelling my last traces of doubt, and as we meandered through the wooded paths, everything around us felt refreshed and full of promise. The most memorable part of the journey came when I unexpectedly encountered the famed ancient oak, its twisted limbs silently chronicling centuries of history. A modest sign at its base disclosed that it was planted back in 1644, serving as a living piece of bygone eras. Bathed in dappled sunlight and surrounded by leaves that had watched over countless lives, my recent hardships suddenly felt insignificant next to the oak's steadfastness and perseverance. In the end, this outing turned out to be far more than a simple walk in the park—it became a powerful lesson in recovery, both physically and emotionally.

The next morning, as we prepared to depart from Ponca State Park, Josephine and I shared one final, lingering glance at both the mist-veiled trails weaving through the woods and the timeworn oak tree, steadfastly watching over the landscape. Letting out a satisfied sigh, we started loading the car—tossing in our mud-stained shoes, kayak paddles, gritty towels, and a sparkling set of fresh inside jokes, each colored with joyful laughter and playful ribbing. Although my hip still throbbed—a stubborn, constant ache—it had been replaced by a deeper sense of ease. Before we got into the car, Ericka squeezed my shoulder, her earlier concern now replaced with fond exasperation.

Heading home while golden sunlight streaked the Nebraska fields, it struck me that adventures often stray from the paths we intend. The most memorable journeys are shaped by surprises, shared laughter with loved ones, and the ability to swap stubbornness for patience when circumstances call for a softer approach. Though my injured leg would mend eventually, the recollection of those moments—the poor decision to ride a horse, laughter bouncing along the riverbank, and serenity under old oaks—would stay with me, offering a gentle nudge to listen a little, laugh a lot, and savor each detour life has to offer.