In the spring of 1845, my father read a book about California. This account of the wonderful land beyond the Rocky Mountains gave him the idea to move there. Less than half a year later we packed all our things onto a wagon and left our farm. It was not easy to decide what to take and what to leave behind. By the middle of October we set off for our journey across the continent: a journey of about a year, across more than 2,500 miles. We traveled with many other families. Most wagons were drawn by oxen, but ours had a team of horses.
We traveled through four states and decided to spend the winter before moving on. In the spring we continued our journey westward. Our first destination was Indian Creek in Kansas., which was then the frontier.-This Was the meeting place for people moving to the west. April 12, 1846, was chosen as the day when all should be ready to start. We left traveling with a group of 45 wagons.
We traveled by day. At night, when we camped, our wagons were driven to form a circle all around the camp fire. The journey through the mountains and desert in the central part of the continent was the most trying part. Sometimes the wagons had to be lifted and pulled up, where there were no roads. Passing through the desert, we came out into the Salt Lake Valley, which looked beautiful to us. We took the road around the lake and after traveling a short time came to the Salt Lake Desert. On November 4, 1846, we entered the desert and soon lost our way. We had to travel about ninety miles without water or grass for the animals to eat. We called this the "long drive". The landscape was dry and barren. Water that was shown on the map proved to be salty ponds and not drinkable. The patches of grass were never found, and the long walk through the sand was hard on the oxen. We could not ride the wagons and had to walk beside them. I carried my younger son, who was only four, most of the way. The cattle became tired and weak. The animals dragged their legs, too weak to pull their burden, and their tongues hung out in desperate need of water. Yet, our water supply was so low that we dared not share it with the beasts. As the animals could no longer pull the wagons, we burnt them and packed the oxen with our supplies. Now we were on our feet with another 500 miles to go.
For many weeks we had been accustomed to seeing horses and oxen suffering from heat, thirst, and starvation. Now things got worse. For miles both sides of the road were lined with dead animals and abandoned wagons. Lying around them were Chains, guns, tools, bedding, clothing, and many other articles. The owners had left everything -- and hurried on to save themselves. In anxiety of reaching a place of safety, no one stopped to look or help. In fact, the situation was so desperate that, in most cases, no one could help another. Each could only try to save himself and his animals. We called it Death Valley.
I was so weak and tired that I got onto my knees and started moving across the sands on all fours. A young man in our group suggested that I stay behind with the children, and wait for help. I knew what was in his mind. So I got up and said "No, I won't give up." I knew that giving up meant a shallow grave in the sand.
At three o'clock on the morning of Christmas Day we reached the edge of the desert. The animals almost ran. They must have smelt the water. Not long after this, we reached a running stream. Farmers who saw us stared at us. They could hardly believe what they saw: people who looked like walking skeletons. When we saw the valley with fat cattle and horses, we thought we had reached the promised land! Our days of hardship had come to an end. |