I did not want to go. Been there. Done that. I have done pioneer treks as family, as youth groups, as reenactments and I was not feeling a need to do one more trek. One of the motivating reasons to do it anyway was because this time I would be with my 3 youngest and I hadn't done it with them. It was also a family trek and at Martin's cove. I knew the opportunities for creating memories and building relationships and strong people were a big pull for me. We did it. I made it. We all made it. So now I get to share some of the highlights and feelings that came with feeling the fear and doing it anyway.
Our day began early Monday morning as we left home by 6:20am. After a 7 hour drive we arrived, doned our pioneer clothing, got a handcart and trekked for 3+miles, set up camp, had dinner made by some wonderful friends who agreed to be the support team and called it a night. Each day we carried our own lunches and snacks. Even at that our energy was used up by the end of each day.
That first day everyone seemed to want a turn. We were assigned a cart with Laura Eastman (62yo) and her 2 granddaughters and Gaylin Thomas (78yo). Jade (11) and Sage (9) were in and out. Isaac was a wanderer. He made new friends, visited old ones that are no longer in our ward and helped out with the rickshaw that carried 12 yo Savannah who has bad ankles and had heart surgery in March to add to the many physical challenges she endures. She and her father were always cheerful and had a great time. They were both an important part of our experience. Simeon and Brother Thomas were our steady pushers all three days. They did not give up or give in.
The river crossing we had learned about. The struggle of those pioneers who were weak from exhaustion, hunger, and extreme cold and were helped across by the young men rescuers who gave a portion of their own lives (many had lasting effects from the time spent in the freezing water) to save those fellow saints. My hero was my 15 yo Isaac who carried me across as we remembered the stories of an earlier time.
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| Brother Thomas, Milt, and Simeon |
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| Debbie |
Debbie was an independent pioneer child. At 10yo she is always confident, independent and willing to do what needs to be done. She, too, spent time visiting, building friendships and just keepin' on. I often didn't see her for miles but she was always fine and having fun. She ended up with blisters on both feet but said she never even noticed they were there.
Harmonica music. It is old fashioned, beautiful and almost mystic in its tones as it shares an earlier time with simple goodness.
Come, Come Ye Saints played on harmonica brings to life the hero stories that were played out so long ago and makes me feel like I can do whatever is required and those who went before are there cheering me on.
We did the traditional women's pull up a very steep part of our first day of trekking. Again we all felt gratitude for the men in our lives and all they do for us and we felt their gratitude for the efforts we make as women.
The vast emptiness of the state of Wyoming was emphasized as we drove and drove to a place where we could walk and walk and still seeing the same emptiness. Debbie gathered joint grass for fun and found it could even whistle. I imagine other pioneer children discovered this same trick.
The second day we walked 7 miles around Martin's cove. Along the way stories were shared, often in first person. Time and again people who thought they just had nothing left to give were strengthened to go a little further and do a little more. One step at a time. One day at a time.
By day three our numbers had dwindled. We were facing Rocky Ridge and a 14.8 mile trek with few potty breaks. We partnered up with another handcart - Cody and Amber Braithwaite, their 3 young children Braden 11, Caleb 9, and Moriya 6. and Janice Carlson 60 and Cheryl Tuttle 62. We still had Brother Thomas but were without the Eastman family. Isaac and Debbie were somewhere up ahead.
We didn't know about the huge mud holes that we would encounter. We were sandwiched as a ward between 2 youth groups. When we came to the water and were unsure how to keep our feet dry, several young men from the other stake pulled our carts through while we were able to go around. It was early in the day and there were 4 mud holes to get through.. They helped everyone through and then ran on ahead to do it all again. We were able to keep our feet healthily dry and moving thanks to them. They were our rescuers
On day 3 Milt and I got asked to portray the Jens and Elsie Neilson story.
We find one of the most touching stories of sacrifice, faith, and loving charity in the life of Jens Neilson, who was a member of the Willie Handcart Company. Jens, a relatively prosperous Danish farmer, heeded the call to bring his family to Zion. In Iowa he wrote that he had let all of his money go to the Church except enough to buy a handcart and stock it with 15 pounds of belongings per person. Jens wrote, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” The people for whom Jens was responsible were himself; his wife, Elsie; their six-year-old son, Neils; and a nine-year-old girl, Bodil Mortensen, whom Jens offered to take to Utah. In the early Wyoming blizzard, temperatures plummeted below zero. The Neilsons had consumed their last pound of flour days before, but somehow they made it over the treacherous Rocky Ridge, urged on by their indomitable courage and unconquerable faith. Tragically, 13 of the company died at Rock Creek and were buried in shallow, snow-covered graves—among them, Jens and Elsie’s son, Neils, and young Bodil Mortensen.
President Hinckley describes this portion of the trail as “a trail of tragedy, a trail of faith, a trail of devotion, a trail of consecration, even the consecration of life itself.”
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Jens arrived at Rock Creek, 11 miles beyond Rocky Ridge, with both feet frozen. He was unable to walk another step and pleaded with Elsie, “Leave me by the trail in the snow to die, and you go ahead and try to keep up with the company and save your life.” Elsie, with her unfaltering pioneer courage, replied, “Ride, I can’t leave you, I can pull the cart.”
13 Such was the strength and the faith of many pioneer women on the trail. (
Elder Ballard)
The story goes that she was about 5'3" and he was a good 6'4". He was strong and good and they loved each other dearly. Many of the men of the company were exhausted from pulling, setting up tents, taking guard duty and having daily rations cut to 4 oz of flour a day. By the time they reached Rocky ridge their supplies had dwindled and they were all starving. Many of the men had given some of their small rations to their children. As we approached a hill that went down and right back up the next hill, Milton and I took a single handcart and walked together down the hill. Milton laid on the ground and I craddled his head on my lap. Elder Glen Bair gathered the people at the top of the hill and shared the story. Then on his signal we began to portray this sacred sacrifice. Milt just layed there. I tried to lift him into the cart. I couldn't even drag him very close to it. I stepped away and knelt in prayer pleading for help. (This was not the first time I had pleaded for help this day. The night before I had some painful abdominal stuff going on and by morning had my own little episode of dissentary. I have recently shed 15 lbs rather quickly and it has resulted in a weakened state for me where I have not done or even felt up to exercising. I had just been building up some strength to exercise again. I also have an issue of a weak bladder that gives up with any exercise or exersion. I had been praying for help with each of these concerns. I did not want to walk the next 10 miles wet and stinky.) I then got back up with faith and hope in my heart and was able to get Milt into the cart. I then lifted the bar and began to pull. I was so amazed to even be able to pull. It was all up hill and it was working. Then I hit a rock. It twisted the cart and it wouldn't budge. I pulled harder and started forward again only to have my feet start sliding on the dirt. I heaved, I grunted, I gave all I had and then Elder Bair sent me angels. My children and a couple of others came running down that hill just in time. I was so afraid that the cart was going to take Milt and I both back down the hill. His safety was in my hands and I was not feeling very strong. They all grabbed a hold and Isaac jumped in the shaft with me. Those angels of mine pulled with such enthusiasm that I had to run to keep up. They were so willing to help and wanting to see us succeed.
I feel confident that there are angels still among us, seen and unseen that are anxiously waiting to be invited to help, who have the power and ability to see us through difficult times. I know that I can do hard things because I am never alone. I have a loving Heavenly Father and a powerful Savior who are there for me. His arm is stretched out still and no matter what happens I can reach out and take hold and receive comfort, direction, help, and power.
So we did Rocky Ridge. We did the mud holes. We did the re-enactment of the Neilsons. We did the hard things only to find out that the very hardest was yet to come. Those "big show" events were done in the first 5 miles. The hard part was the enduring part. We still had 9.8 miles to go. We had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. There was very little change in the scenery, few distractions. The distance between us and the last handcart we could see seemed to get greater all the time. The water was getting warm and we were getting sore and tired. We were traveling with old and young and it was up to us to keep going.
Cheryl 62, had not worked up to the walking at all. As her good friend Janice says, She started green. She never complained. She just kept going but she was finally slowing down. We had the 6 yo in the cart already. We finally got Cheryl in the cart and sweet Amber carried her daughter for a while. We visited, shared insights and encouragement along the way but we were tired. The children needed encouragement. The quiet elderly people just kept plugging along. They were a silent inspiration to me of accepting the challenge and finishing the journey. Brother Stull 70 was with us too. He said to just keep going, he would make it on his own (and he did). Brother Thomas 78 just kept pushing on the back. I did what I could to just keep walking and when that support truck finally came by it was Amber carrying a big 6 yo that said no to a ride and that we were fine. It was good that they didn't ask me because I was sorely tempted to be done.
Little Mariah finally walked for a bit and then was in the cart with her baby doll, Maggie.
We were the last ones back to camp. As we rounded that last bend in the road we had dear friends who had not been able to walk, cheer us on. It was a sweet moment. We completed all that had been asked of us.
1Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,
Some of the conversations along the way were about who we were walking for. We had been asked to pick a pioneer relative or someone in the Willy or Martin companies or just anyone. It was fun to hear the stories and why they chose them and what they had learned.
Last time I walked for my Great great great grandma
Hannah Evans Bowen Giles. I have grown to love her and her example of bravery and faith. This time I walked for
Ann Rowley who came as a
widow with seven children. The fire of her faith was so strong she did everything she could and then saw miracles and remembered to be grateful.
Debbie walked for
Mary Hurren. she is the one in Seventeen Miracles that jumps over rattlesnakes.
Debbie watched her friend not finish but she herself walked every step of the way and was a cheerful companion to those she was with.
We will remember those who gave their all and the hope of eternal blessings and eternal families.
Grateful
- Running water
- showers
- clean feet
- faith and testimony
- family
- good friends who share our faith and righteous desires
- angels
- hard things that help us grow and become something more.
- My dear Milton who pulled nonstop. He was steady and strong in more ways than one. I sure love him!
