Cleo's Trail: A Vibrant Faith Adventure

Cleo’s Trail: A Vibrant Faith Adventure

By Amy Larson, as seen in IDAHO Magazine

“This was a bad idea,” I told myself as I drove up Highway 45, south of Nampa.

Curious about a place friends had told me of, Cleo’s Trail, I decided to take an afternoon off from work and visit. Two problems: I got a late start, and it was raining buckets. With wipers on full speed, I was questioning my wisdom, or lack thereof.

Then something interesting happened. The closer I got to Cleo’s Trail, near the Snake River, the better the weather got. Driving over the last hill, the clouds parted and the rain stopped. My mood brightened, too, and I sensed I was about to have a singular experience.

Before me was the old Walter’s Ferry site. To the left were two houses, with an open gate beyond them. An overhead sign read, “This place was built as a vibrant faith adventure.”

That sounds like something I can use, I thought. I could see several old-style houses, barns, and a little chapel. To the left was a vacant parking lot, and I found out why. The trail closed at five. I looked at my watch. 4:45. Fifteen minutes to explore. I decided I would snap some photos and move quickly through.

The very first sign slowed my pace.

“You are my special friend and visitor today,” it said. Who was this Cleo person, and did she really mean it? I looked around, noticing I was surrounded by a courtyard full of children at play. Sculptures of children being read to on benches by parents, children doing cartwheels, and masquerading as caped superheroes. I started grinning, something I hadn’t done all day. The sculpture of two children holding hands and galloping off toward some adventure triggered a memory of my older sister and I. She was always dragging me around to something or somewhere, but whatever she dragged me to was often fun. I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

The paved pathway led up a slight hill. Needing to make good time to be out by five, my pace was brisk, until I saw another sign.

“LOOK and forget your troubles,” it said. How did they know? I took a deep breath and walked on, I’d just have to ‘look’ a bit faster.

“You deserve to be happy,” the next sign said. Yeah, I thought, I really do. Everyone does.

Five steps further, another sign. They were everywhere, on both sides of the trail. This could take a while. There was no way I’d be finished with the ten minutes I had left.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” the next sign asked. As I thought of the clouds parting, and how the rain had stopped, my footsteps resigned to a more gentle, thoughtful pace.

“Imagination is important,” the next sign said. Thinking back to when I was a child, what had I imagined back then? I could hardly remember. This trail was getting me in touch with my younger self.

What I couldn’t get out of my head was one question: Why would someone go to so much trouble? While a spiritual element was evident along the trail, there was also a mystical element, and a whimsical element, too. The combination confused me somewhat. I didn’t usually see expensive, commissioned sculptures placed beside simple wooden birdhouses. There was an ‘anything goes’ feel.

Figurines of squirrels and birds sat along wooden fences, and as the path curved, a trail split off up the Idaho prairie hill, with steps leading to a little white miniature church. I skipped up the steps, feeling twenty years younger, then tried the door. It was open!

Inside was a Bible and a space to kneel, but what got me was the picture window, taking up the entire back wall. Three crosses stood gloriously at the top of the hill, the framed subject of the window. Breathtaking.

I’d dawdled. I was sure it was past closing time. There were so many statues, glass globes, and with the sun going down, sparkling holiday lights appeared on miniature faux trees placed along the path. It made me feel like royalty, or ‘A special guest’, as the sign said. It was so magical, I half-expected to see one of the statues move.

I hadn’t yet seen another living soul. This enabled me to absorb, uninterrupted. I rejoined the main path and continued reading.

“Sit down. This is a good spot.”

A bench by the sign. It would be wrong not to sit, after so firm a directive. I did as told. I wished I could’ve stayed longer, but I was now there after hours, and it was getting cold and dark.

Taking a few more steps past the sitting bench, I looked off to my right.

A sunken area said ‘Cleo’s Prayer Garden.’ There was a lot of movement along the trail, because there are hundreds of birds and squirrels present. To see movement in the garden didn’t seem odd, until I realized some of that movement was human. It was a man who looked like he worked there.

“I know you’re closed,” I said apologetically, “But could I stay a little longer? I’ve just discovered this place, and it’s…” I paused, searching for any one word that could describe it, and came up with nothing.

“Isn’t it?” the man smiled knowingly, “Doctor and Cleo Swayne put this together,” he told me. Swayne, I thought, where had I heard that name before?

“The Swayne Auditorium is named after them,” the man said. The Swayne Auditorium in Nampa at Northwest Nazarene University, of course. I’d been there many times. So these were the people behind it. The man working in the garden, Steve Washburn, was the caretaker of Cleo’s Trail.

“Is Cleo still alive?” I blurted out like an over-anxious fan. If so, I very much wanted to meet her.

Steve told me she was not, and I was disappointed. He told me he and his wife cared for the grounds and lived on-site. I couldn’t believe anyone was fortunate enough to get to live at such a place, and said so. He told me Cleo had been quite a character. In the course of the discussion, Steve gave me permission to take more time, and I was grateful. There was no rushing through the place. Coming up next, he said, was the Enchanted Forest.

Twinkling lights led the way off to the right and down a slope, into a thicket of overgrowth. Twisting branches blocked the sky as I followed the path, ducking for lower boughs encircled with strings of white lights. There were benches and chairs for sitting and contemplation. There were warning signs, citing the presence of trolls. I encountered a tiny brook with a small waterfall, feeding into a pond. Next a playhouse, surrounded by fairies, silk flowers and the occasional gnome.

“Who does this?” I asked, shaking my head. In my practical world, land was precious, used to grow or graze something on. How was it that this Cleo could have done whatever her heart desired with it, decorating literally acres with signs, lights, animal sculptures, expensive artwork and the random this and that? I just didn’t get it…but then I did. Whoever she was married to, this Dr. Swayne, must have really loved her. Knowing next to nothing about them as a couple, I looked around, fairly certain I was right.

“Feel the quietness,” said a sign, “Let’s eliminate negative thinking,” said another.

I continued walking, charmed. Ahead was the Snake River, with a decorative fence and white gazebo, a picture postcard scene. Nearby was a huge willow tree, beneath that were several benches, all with occupant sculptures of Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, Mark Twain, and Benjamin Franklin. I took a seat by Mr. Twain, hoping for tips. He said nothing, yet smiled approvingly.

“What’s life without a dream?” said another sign. Indeed.

In front of a cozy shelter was a plaque, shaped like a book, which read:

“A joyous place filled with warmth and good friends, A place where everyone feels welcome, A safe place to grow and learn, A peaceful place filled with trust and love.”

The view was so grand and sweeping, it wasn’t hard to picture the Swaynes standing at that very spot, happy together. My imagination was now fully awake. Childhood, romance and gnomes, there was so much to see! Beyond the willow was an entire playground, a blacktop filled with children’s likenesses playing marbles, hopscotch, learning to ride a bicycle, jumping rope. Three child sculptures, towering high above me, were trying out stilts. In the next section was a baseball game, with a pig-tailed girl winding up for the pitch, everyone in their respective places. A little boy sculpture watched the game in a reclining position from a distance, holding a baby bottle between his bare feet, which a puppy was licking.

Beyond was the scene of a parade, as those observing the flag held their hands to their hearts.

“Exactly as it should be,” I said out loud.

I remembered Steve’s words about the next piece. ‘The only one that was commissioned,’ he’d said. It was a recreation of the Swayne’s wedding day. As the preacher gave a lively sermon, the couple looked into each other’s eyes with calm and confidence. Like an intruder, I stepped into the space between them and the pastor and gazed curiously. Not many got this view of the beginning of a marriage. Yep, I decided, they’d been good for each other.

I looked up and saw six deer. As I walked, they walked with me. A minute or two later, they went into the trees. I’d never been that close to deer in my lifetime, but they prepped me for what came next. My head jerked backwards as I stared at replicas of a full-grown rhinoceros, giraffe, lion, and several other animals you might find in not-Idaho. A safari by the Snake River. I laughed out loud then, thrilled at the ‘anything goes’ attitude. Why not have a jungle here?

Angels, fairies and gnomes lined my way back to the parking lot, while I tried to process what I’d just seen. It was as though someone had peered into my once-colorful, little-child mind and recreated what they’d found there. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed that part of me. The trail had introduced me once again to my younger, more innocent self.

I found I couldn’t stay away from the place. Returning two days later, I had a different experience, with resident peacocks following me (two of them white), a visit to the hilltop chapel, and a stop at the family cemetery, where Cleo and Dr. ‘Pappy’ had their resting place. I also noticed the large rainbow at the top of the hill. How many times had I driven by this spot on my way to Murphy, Reynolds Creek, or Givens, and saw the rainbow, never looking into why it was there?

On my way out, I saw a glass case advertising Cleo’s books. One was “Pappy the Doctor”, their love story. I knew it! The notice in the case said books were available at Dan’s Ferry Service. I drove there, bought the story, and finished it hours later.

Dr. Samuel Swayne and Cleo had enjoyed each others' company. Cleo was first married to Dr. Clarence Heuck, an osteopathic physician. They had two children, Dan and Betty. Dr. Swayne was a widower with four older daughters, with a reputation as an excellent physician, which is why the Heucks chose Dr. Swayne to deliver their second child. He later assisted Dr. Heuck in treating young Dan’s polio. He was a trusted doctor and friend. When Dr. Heuck suddenly died from stepping on a rusty nail, Cleo had to fend for herself for years, taking in boarders and working long hours. Dr. Swayne became interested in her, and although that might have looked like a meal ticket to outsiders, Cleo carefully considered, postponing a decision for several reasons. One of which was perhaps the fact that she was 26 years her suitor’s junior. With many adoring women in the area, some were not happy with a youngster sweeping the eligible doctor off his feet. Cleo stood her ground, raised her children, cooked and cleaned for boarders, and waited until conditions were best. What followed was the story of two people who worked together, played together, danced together, and laughed together. Established as a happy couple, the people around accepted them as such. Cleo helped Dr. Swayne in his practice, and when he retired, they built up their beloved ranch on the Snake.

They traveled, collecting this, that and the other and brought it all home. Wanting to duplicate the historic Walter’s Ferry dwellings, ‘Pappy’ constructed the rock museum by himself, then with a helper built several more buildings. At age 89, he’d just finished work on the ‘little house by the river’. A hernia bothered him, and the day after the Swayne’s wedding anniversary, he went in for a simple surgery. The surgeon commented that Pappy had ‘the blood pressure of a teenager.’ The surgery went well, but the next day due to some swelling, another surgery was ordered. For three weeks afterward, Pappy was ailing, with Cleo close by. Then a heart attack occurred, and he died. Cleo wrote that she ‘had to will herself to pick up life again.’ Her best friend was gone. Apparently, she later put her energies into giving back to others, via Cleo’s Trail. I’d been right with my vibes about those two, thinking whoever put the trail together must have been very loved. Pappy is quoted as telling an associate who helped with construction, “However Cleo wants it, that suits me.”

Knowing more of the story, the trail became even more sacred.

Hearing the trail was lighted on certain evenings, a few days later I was back again.

There was a campfire going by the caretaker’s home, with chairs, hot chocolate in Styrofoam cups, and marshmallows for roasting. About a half dozen Cleo’s Trail walkers gathered around the toasty fire, conversing, sipping and soaking in the peaceful surroundings.

I envied Steve and his wife, being able to live at such a place. He told me I could call anytime with questions, so a few weeks later, I did.

When asked how he got the job, Steve said, “You know how you’re supposed to be quite collected for an interview? When Dan showed us around, I couldn’t stop laughing. I laughed throughout the entire trail, saying, ‘This is great!’

He said the Swaynes had a love for their fellowmen in common, and told of how Cleo used to give tours to fourth grade history classes, wowing them with the grand finale.

“She’d end her tour in the upper story of the doll museum, saying ‘And now, children, it’s time for you to leave.’” She’d open the side of a wall, revealing a slide that went all the way down to ground floor.

“That was her, through and through,” Steve told me, laughing, “She just loved to joke.

When she told you something, you’d wonder if she was pulling your leg. She was pretty feisty, too, you had to pay attention, or she’d get after you. She kept those fourth graders spellbound.”

Why the trail? I asked.

“The sign says, ‘A vibrant faith adventure, and that’s what it was for her. She knew there would be results. Its purpose was to touch lives.”

“It sounds like a lot of people find refuge there,” I commented.

“—And that was to Cleo’s delight,” Steve answered, “She loved that.”

Steve told of a message left behind, stating the writer had gone through a troubled life, that she was getting back on track, and that she now had hope. Steve gave that to Cleo, who got great joy from it. Cleo also went to great lengths to get light to the three crosses on the hill, a complicated and expensive project. She later got a letter from a woman who had been standing at the bridge over the Snake River one evening, contemplating ending her life. As it got dark, the lights on the crosses came on, and the woman saw them and changed her mind. The note was written to thank Cleo.

I told Steve I couldn’t believe I’ve lived in the area since 1988, and had never heard of the trail. He expressed his theory that people find the trail at the right time for them.

“Cleo didn’t advertise it,” he said, “On purpose. She didn’t want it to be too crowded. If people got after her about that, she’d say, ‘Are you enjoying yourself here today?’ When they replied ‘yes’, she said, ‘If there were sixty other people walking around, would you have enjoyed it as much?’”

Steve told of a group of visiting twenty somethings, too tough and cool to even smile. When he called out, “I hope you have a great time!” they glared. When they returned, they’d changed. The trail had done something for them.

“If anyone needs that, they do,” said Steve, “It’s an experience. Everyone gets something different out of it.”

Explaining the rainbow, Steve said Cleo had been nervous about getting married to Dr. Swayne. On the day they went to get their marriage license, the weather was dark and stormy, not helping matters. When they came out of the building, however, the sun was shining, and there was a big, beautiful rainbow across the sky.

“That’s the significance of the rainbow,” he told me, “It’s the second one they put up. I believe she had a swing on the first one.”

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.



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