Our Pioneer Trek

Well, I'm back.  I hope no one thinks it was cheating of me to write three stories and post them on the same day to cover the three days I was away from the computer.  It was the only way I knew how to do this, though. 

On Thursday I had the privilege of going on a three day Pioneer Trek with my husband, my youngest two daughters, and 282 other teenagers, in the forest.  It was quite an experience.

It all started because my sister, Linda, is our Stake Young Women's President, and she told the organizers of the Trek that my husband and I would be good food chairmen.  That was over three months ago, and I've teasingly complained about it ever since.  I shouldn't have.  I am so happy I had this opportunity. 

Moe and I were in charge of deciding what the kids should eat, figuring out how much food we needed, buying it, transporting it to the Trek, and dividing it out each meal.  Thank goodness we didn't actually have to cook for the kids, except for the evening meal on the first day.

There ended up being 284 young men and women between the ages of fourteen to eighteen who came on the Trek.  They were divided into 23 families, each one with either twelve or thirteen children.  23 "Ma's and Pa's" were called to head each family, so there were really 230 people we were providing food for. 

Since this was a Pioneer Trek, everyone was supposed to dress in period clothes, complete with long skirts and pantaloons, aprons and bonnets for the girls, and long sleeved button up shirts, vests or suspenders, cloth pants and hats (no baseball caps) for the boys.  They really looked awesome.  I tried to make the menu as authentic to help keep in spirit with the Trek.

I spent weeks and weeks finding suggestions and reading journal entries from real pioneers to find the best kind of food for the kids to make.  Since the forest is dry right now, our monsoon season hasn't begun yet and it's been a long time since it's rained, we were not able to have open fires.  That meant all the cooking had to be done over propane camp stoves.  That really limited our choice of menus.  The real pioneers would have done much of their cooking and all of their baking in dutch ovens, which we still used, but we couldn't have coals to put on the lids so we couldn't bake any kind of bread, biscuits, cobblers, or things like that.

In the end they finally ate lots of Journey, or Johnny, Cakes (basically pancakes made with corn meal and flour), both for breakfast with syrup and later cold for lunch wrapped around bacon and/or cheese.  For dinner one meal they fried potatoes and made apple dumpling soup, and for another they made fry bread topped with cooked hamburger.  No one complained much, although they got tired of the Journey Cakes by the third time they had to eat them.  They did get to have oatmeal as well for the last breakfast, but from what I read, bread and bacon, or salt pork, was a a staple of the pioneers. They got tired of it, too.

Each family had an authentic handcart to carry their clothes, sleeping bags, and supplies on.  With fourteen to fifteen people in each family there were lots of strong arms to push and pull, but it didn't take long to wear the kids out.  They walked fifteen miles the first day, pushing their handcarts on a rough forest service road, up hills and down gullies, until they reached their first camp. 

They began trekking about 1:30 in the afternoon, it took all morning to gather their belongings, divide them into families, bus them out to the staging area, and put together and load their handcarts.  About three miles into the trek eight or nine riders road up on horseback, pretending to be members of the American army, coming to ask for volunteers to help fight the Mexican American War.  This actually happened to the early Mormon pioneers while they were crossing the plains, and about 500 men left their families to travel on alone while they went to serve the country.  They became known as the Mormon Battalion.  On our trek the boys were told they had to stand off at the side of the trail and let the women and girls push and pull the carts for this part of the trek.   It was hard!

Since I was in charge of the food I didn't really need to be out actually walking with the kids, but Linda and I both wanted to be with them at least part of the time.  So while Moe took our trailer full of food out to the back up camp, and set things up, Linda and I walked the beginning of the trek with the kids.  During the women's pull she and I each stepped into one of the families to help those girls get their carts up the hill.  They had chosen the steepest part of the trail for the women's pull, and it was one long, hard climb.  I was out in front of one handcart, helping four other girls and their "Ma" pull, while the rest of their girls pushed from behind. My legs soon were burning just from walking up the steep hill, and pulling the handcart added just enough tension to my calf muscles that I soon was wondering if I could really make it.  I would put one foot in front of the other, telling myself, "Just walk until you reach that rock up ahead," then when I got to that rock I would find a further one to make my goal.  We stopped often, thank goodness, but some stretches were harder than others and the girls literally couldn't get their carts up the hill by themselves, so girls from other carts would put their handles down and run to help the girls up ahead push and pull until that cart reached a level space, then they would come back down to help the next cart up that far.  In this way we inched our way up that long mountain.  All the while the boys and "Pa's" had to stand by the side, watching the women strain and sweat, unable to do anything but pray for them.  It was a pretty amazing event for all of us.  The girls learned they could do hard, almost impossible things, and the boys began to see their "sisters" in a new light. They wanted so badly to jump in and help, it really hurt them to see the girls struggling so hard, but it also gave them a new respect and appreciation for the strength, willpower, and determination of these girls.  

When we finally got to the top of that hill everyone pretty much collapsed on the ground and just rested for awhile.  We had been walking for three or four hours by this time, and it was a hot afternoon, even in the forest.  Each handcart carried a five-gallon cooler of water, but all of them were close to empty before the women's pull was done.  There was a water tank waiting to refill the jugs about half a mile further on the trail, but we were sure thirsty right then.  In the end thirst got us up and walking again, just so we could get to the refill station.  That was just under five miles into the hike, but Moe met us there with our truck so Linda and I drive with him over to the first night's camp and get dinner started.  It was hard to walk away from the kids.  I was so proud of them, they were such troopers, and although I was tired I felt really guilty leaving them to continue walking while we drove away.

Trying to keep with authenticity, we did not have a big dinner that night.  They didn't pull into camp until 10:30, and they were dead tired and hungry.  On the real trail there would have been no one to cook for them, so they would have made something simple and easy to fill their tired bellies and let them get to bed.  We boiled water and made Ramen noodles.  I was thinking it would be easy on their tired stomachs, but also most kids love Ramen, and I hoped it would be kind of a comfort food for them.  Each family brought their pot to me, we dished up their soup, and they took it back to wherever they had spread out their tarp and sleeping bags to eat.  I heard later that many of them, especially the girls, ate some soup while lying down,and fell asleep with their half eaten dish sitting next to them.

The next morning we brought the fixings for their breakfast, but they had to cook it themselves in their families.  Then they loaded up the handcarts again and pushed on another couple of miles to base camp.  I walked past most of the families as they began this leg of their journey, handing out some more hard crackers to take with them.  Earlier in the morning as they were eating breakfast they had been smiling and joking, obviously getting their second wind.  But now, as their already tired and aching bodies once more took the strain of pushing and pulling their handcarts, I saw many grim faces.  Perhaps for some this was the hardest part of the trek.  It was also the hottest day.  The sun shown down, blisteringly hot and parchingly dry.  I had a headache, I'm sure from not drinking enough, and my eyes burned.  I hated to think how those poor kids and Ma's and Pa's were feeling.

They made it to base camp by noon and we brought them their food to make lunch.  After eating most of them just wanted to sleep, but soon they were up and they spent the afternoon playing pioneer games, shooting black powder rifles, pulling taffy, making candles, and even washing each others hair.  The activities organizers had set up a huge pool full of water for that part, and it was a good idea.  The temperature was above 90 degrees, and those kids were hot and dusty!  The hardest thing was keeping them hydrated.

In the evening we brought them the food to make their dinner, then they had a Hoe-down and a really neat fireside (although we didn't actually get to have a bonfire to sit around), where they heard some pioneer stories. I'll tell you what; I don't know where those kids found the energy to stay awake, let alone to dance! I was struggling just to keep my eyes open.  After the fireside they were given little electric tea lights, and  they silently walked through the dark to stand under huge pine trees with their family groups. 

Linda told me it was the most amazing sight.  She and her husband had been busy behind the scenes setting up for the fireside, so they had missed the instructions about where to go afterwards.  Not knowing what to do they just stayed sitting in their chairs, while all around them kids and adults, dressed in pioneer costume, quietly walked through the settling dust, holding their tiny tea lights.  There was a full moon that night.  That, combined with the haze still hanging in the air, added an eiry effect to the night.  Linda said it was like watching the spirits of the real pioneers quietly pass through the camp, and I am sure that many of our ancestors were there with us that night as we honored them, and the sacrifices they made.

This was the first time since the Trek began that I was able to experience real quiet.  When we got to our assigned tree we watched as pinpoints of light gathered under other trees in a huge circle around the camp.  Then, one by one, the lights went out and it was totally silent.  A peace and sense of reverence settled over my heart, and I've got to tell you, the tears were so close I could hardly hold them in.  With the pioneer stories still fresh in my mind my heart was touched.  When everyone was in place our group twisted on our lights and sang, "The Spirit of God, like a fire is burning.....", our lights shining up into the tree in the still night.  When we finished we twisted off our lights and the group under the tree off to our right twisted on theirs and sang a hymn.  One by one, all around that enormous circle, teenagers and Ma's and Pa's lit up their tree and sang the songs of the gospel.  It was an amazing moment, a tender moment, one that I will never forget. 

Afterwards, Ma's and Pa's led their families to their own camp spots and settled down for the night, but the spirit of reverence lingered on.  It took me a long time to go to sleep that night, because I was crying.  The spirit, which I had been waiting to feel the whole Trek, had finally had a chance to fall upon me.

Yesterday morning we rose early, again, so we could get the food to the kids so they could begin their breakfasts.  This was the day they had set aside for the kids to be with their families and by themselves, internalizing the lessons and feelings they had experienced on the Trek.  There was a different feeling in the air yesterday.  Families, who two days before had consisted of fourteen or fifteen almost strangers, were now so close they dreaded the moment when they would leave each other.  There was lots of laughing, hugging, helping, and picture taking.  Some of the trekers still limped, but none had gone home early because they couldn't make it.  I was so impressed with everyone! 

There was time set aside in the morning for each teenager to go out in the woods by themselves, on Solo, to read their scriptures and a letter sent to them from their real parents, write in their journals, and just be alone for two hours without the distraction of cell phones, TV, video games, or even other people.  It may have been the first time in years some of these kids were totally, completely alone with just themselves.  Then we brought them their food to make their final dinner, they had a family home evening with their family, then they packed up their handcarts one more time and pushed and pulled them out of camp, a mile or two up the road, to met the buses which took them back to the real world.  I believe they came home different people than when they left.

Moe and I packed up our trailer which was now filled with empty boxes and garbage, but no more food, and beat the buses back to the church so we could be there when the kids arrived.  Although we had seen our own two daughters on and off throughout the Trek, I was still anxious to be reunited with them and really find out how they were doing.  Aside from blistered feet and dust caked arms, legs, and faces, they were bubbling.  It was so much fun to be able to sit with them and laugh and cry over their experiences, totally understanding what they were talking about because we had been there too.  We were all dying to get into the shower and clean up, yet we sat on the couches in the living room and shared stories for over an hour, it was just so much fun to talk. 

What an experience.  I am so glad now that Linda volunteer us to help out with the Trek.  It changed me.  I used to think my ancestors came to Utah because it was the right thing to do, because they wanted to be close to the church, and for all the reasons you hear about pioneers coming west.  I have a different perspective now.  Many did come west for a new start in life, but they were not the ones who had the courage to come even when they were faced with starvation, sickness, and death, not the handcart pioneers.  Those people who were willing to sacrifice so much to get to Zion had a deeper reason for coming, one which superseded all the hardship, pain and suffering.  Those pioneers came because they knew Utah was the only place at that time where they would find a Temple of our God, where they could be sealed to their families forever.  They came to Zion because of family.  I live for Zion because of family.  We belong to each other, and always will, and I am so thankful for them.


Note:

 I wrote this late last night to post today, so I could keep on track with one story a day.  I'm glad, though, that this is my story today, because today is the second anniversary of the day Mom passed away.  I miss her, especially right now, but you know what?  It hasn't been as awful as I always thought it would be to be gone from Mom and Dad, because it hasn't felt like they were really gone.  It's felt more like they were off on a mission somewhere and we would see them again soon.  Do you know why?  Because of what I just wrote about in this story.  Family.  Mom and Dad, Keith and Linda and Phillip and Julie and Sharon and I, our grandma's and grandpa's and aunts and uncles and cousins and children and spouses are all part of this family who is sealed together because our pioneer ancestors came to Zion, to the Temple, to be sealed.  We are family, now, still, and forever.  And although Mom isn't here today for me to give her a big hug, she is here, and so is Dad and the rest of my ancestors.  That, I think, has been the biggest blessing for me of writing my stories.  It has made me think about them, and has made me feel closer to them, and has opened my eyes just a little bit to feel them near.  They are here, just on the other side of the veil, and one day I will step through it myself, and then what a big group hug there will be!  I love you, Mom.