This is going to be a long one - deal with it or skip it, your choice. The pictures are scattered throughout in the appropriate places, but aren't captioned.
TUESDAY - 6 JULY
Tuesday evening everyone dropped most of their gear off at the stake center to be loaded by the experts. After I got home from doing that, I was putting the finishing touches on my costume... sewing the bonnet brim down, hemming the petticoat, adding a drawstring to the skirt's elastic waistband. My seam-ripper rolled off the edge of the sewing machine and I instinctively tried to catch it between my legs. Unfortunately for me, it was sideways and my 'catch' ended up stabbing the pointed end deep into my left thigh, about 4 inches above my knee. Luckily, my first aid kit was on the list of stuff to bring with me the next morning instead of leaving it with the rest of my gear, so I had my bandaids and ointment handy.
Short commercial here: If you've never used the Nexcare Tattoo bandaids, you're missing out. I started using them several years ago and never buy any other brand. They stick well, they mostly don't come off until you take them off, and who doesn't like wearing bandaids with Cars characters or pirate tattoos, or Disney Princesses or many other varied and fun pictures? I put one on my leg that night and took it off when I got home from Trek four days and several river crossings later.
WEDNESDAY - 7 JULY
Wednesday at 6:00 we met at the stake center and met our assigned families. I was an aunt in a family with ma and pa and ten kids - five girls and five boys. We had a few minutes to meet as a family and get to know each other a bit, and we were each given the name and story of a pioneer counterpoint. (Mine was Elizabeth Crook Panting.) Then we loaded onto three school buses and headed out. One of the buses lost a radiator hose just after we passed through Kemmerer Wyoming. Our bus followed that one back to Kemmerer while the other one continued on. We were all grateful that it happened so close to a town. As it was we were about two hours behind when we finally made it to camp.
Each family had their own fire pit with four tents - one for the daughters, one for the sons, one for the ma and pa, and one for aunts and/or uncles. Each family also designed a flag to post on their handcarts.
While we were making our flag, we unfortunately lost one of our boys (the strong one above) who had been assigned to our family by mistake and was claimed by his 'real' family. After all the families were settled, we played some simple pioneer games - stick pull, stick toss, hoop toss, tug-of-war, etc. Then, while a truck came into the site and sprayed for mosquitoes, we moved to the other end of the small valley and the three companies (one from each bus) came together and had a square dance. Then dinner, followed by a devotional. One of the camp missionaries told us the story of Ephraim Hanks - his adventures and his obedience to the church leaders.
THURSDAY - 8 JULY
Thursday morning we got back on the buses and traveled to Independence Rock - a landmark on the trail that if the pioneers reached by July 4th, Independence Day, they knew they'd be safely in the Salt Lake valley before the winter storms began. (The Willie group didn't even start their journey until August.) We had fun clambering around and reading the carved inscriptions that had been left by the pioneers and other visitors telling what date they had arrived at the rock. Some of the earlier inscriptions, that had to have been hand chiseled out of the surface of the rock, were done in an exquisite copperplate font that almost looked like it had been done by a machine. They were incredible! Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures of the best ones.
From there we got back on the buses and traveled to Martin's Cove. When we arrived, we watched a video that recreated the experience related by 13 year-old Heber McBride: "Tongue Nor Pen Can Never Tell the Sorrow". Then we had a short walk to a small area called Dan's Cove, where our stake president gave the youth a blessing. After the blessing, those whose pioneer counterpoints had died on the trail were sent on to Martin's Cove while the rest of us had to watch them leave. I've heard examples of this activity before where the trek families have really bonded beforehand and are very traumatized when some of them 'die'. Our group dynamics weren't really set up that way, though. After a bit, the rest of us were sent on toward the cove, single file, with about 100 feet between each person so we had to (got to) make the trek in solitude. It was a good time for reflection.
After the walk through Martin's Cove, we went for another walk - with nearly empty handcarts - to the Sweetwater river. When we arrived at the river all sat on the bank, in silence at first, then quietly humming hymns. Four strong young men had been pre-selected from the youth of the stake, and as we sat there they each invited someone to be carried across the river. They continued to carry people across until everyone who wanted to be carried was on the other side. Then the rest of us walked across as well. The whole day was really neat but this was the part that really touched me. Seeing those young men carrying the first four children (the smallest, youngest ones first) across really tugged my heartstrings. After they were brought to my attention in that way, I noticed those same young men jumping in to help push handcarts or to make sure someone had enough water or was wearing a hat, or whatever needed doing, just generally making sure that nobody who needed help went without.
FRIDAY - 9 JULY
Friday was the day of the actual 'trek' part of Trek - the 10 mile hike with full handcarts. Up early, tents and such packed, water and buckets loaded on the handcarts. (Each person used a 5 gallon bucket to carry their personal belongings.) Ten long miles. We did the traditional women's pull that I've heard tell about - the men and boys all walked ahead to the top of a large hill, leaving the women and girls to bring the handcarts. I half expected the boys to be allowed to give help as 'angels' near the top, but they didn't. They had to watch, lined up silently on either side of the trail, while their sisters and mothers, real ones in some cases, struggled to haul the handcarts to the top. They all had their hats off, in hands held over their hearts, and more than one had tears in their eyes. This was the part of the trek that touched the hearts of the young men more than any other. When we got back to the Willie area campground, we got back onto the buses and drove to Rock Creek for our final night, then up Saturday morning and home.
There was lots more to say, of course, but most of it is in my private journal blog - it's too personal to share.
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