IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES
PREPARATION:
Dad and I were invited to be a Ma and Pa on the youth trek and Dad was of course very excited about it; I definitely wanted to go—not because I was excited about how great it was going to be, but because I just wanted to have the experience. Kylee had been excitedly anticipating it for about 4 years since Jackie had gone on trek. She was raring to go. I was pretty nervous the last few days before we left. My main concerns-- one, was I physically fit enough to get though it, (I was,) especially, would my knees give me trouble (they didn’t.) Two, knowing the circumstances would be grueling and trying, could I maintain and demonstrate an optimistic spirit to the youth throughout, (I did). Three, would the kids and I happily bond, (we did.)
We had a lot of sewing to do before the trek, skirts, bloomers, aprons, bonnets—very time consuming. Jackie’s trek clothes had been trashed since they were completely covered in mud! But when Kylee got dressed that morning in her pristine clothes she said “Look what a cute pioneer I am!” And she was. I found two skirts and blouses at Goodwill so I was not worried about being cute, I just wanted to save me the trouble of more sewing.
DAY ONE: On arrival, the Ma’s and Pa’s were assigned to “shake down” the arriving kids to search their bags for contraband. I did not fine the expected deodorant, toothpaste and candy, but mostly extra outfits and underwear. Dad found some homemade soap which I think should have been allowed after all that effort.
We spent the morning getting to know our group, playing some games, and eating our sack lunches. The youth we were given were absolutely wonderful from the first minute to the last, and we all hit it off. (All the youth like President Spjut--so it follows that his wife is bound to be ok.) They were a VARIETY of personalities, but we had every reason to think we had an excellent group—which we did. One of the girls, Brianne, uses a wheelchair and so her mother went to heroic efforts to make it possible for her daughter to participate. They brought their horse for her to ride behind our handcart. Her mom walked beside the horse the whole trek and her brother, a large friendly guy just home from his mission, carried her around the camp as needed. She could use a cane, but it was difficult terrain and it was pretty unsteady but she did great. But she was happy and willing to help when she could. One of the girls, Molly, is just a fun, funny, quirky, delightful girl whom everyone in the stake knows and loves. The other two girls, Bette and Maddie were happy and very hard working, always pitching in. The boys were terrific, James, short and a little reserved, Max, tall and outgoing. Not a grumpy slacker in the bunch! How lucky can we get.
The Pratt Family
Pa, Bette, Ma, Maddie, Max, James, Molly, Brianne on horseback
Beside the horse Brianne’s brother Cory and her mom Erin
We had been asked to choose a family name from our pioneer ancestry if possible. So Dad and I chose Pratt as our family trek name and I shared some information about Parley. And those youth with pioneer ancestors got to share their stories.
The afternoon was spent in several rotations which included a service project at the camp (cutting back honeysuckle vines), health, handcart and fire safety, making and frying donuts from scratch, making butter, getting our food and supplies and loading our carts etc. We then gathered with the other families for some group games.
At dinner we were given a raw whole chicken fryer and the recipe for chicken and dumplings. Most the girls had not handled a whole raw chicken and it was fun to see them tackle that assignment. Dinner took a long time to make but turned out edible, actually pretty good.
After dinner we had time for FHE and we explained why we had chosen Pratt as our family trek name. I shared some photos and stories of Henrietta, Lucy and Parley. Next, all the families gathered for a short program about the pioneers and a hoe-down. It was a bit of a disaster because the “DJ” assumed he could teach some square dance moves to the large group. I knew he was doomed because I had had minimal success teaching those moves in the schools in small groups of 8-10 and he had about 100 in one big circle. When he got them started he told them to get in a circle boy, girl, boy, girl and I reminded them we had twice as many girls as boys. So when he realize many of his ideas just weren’t going to work they ended up doing circle right, now circle left for much too long. They did a couple of line dances over and over, etc. I was having a hard time watching the slow melt-down of the hoe-down and was about to get up and offer to teach them the Virginia Reel, when off in the distance we saw a group of about a dozen men approach with torches and pitchforks and bandana’s around their faces shouting at us. The “mob” was successful in forcing us off our land and everyone hurriedly broke up the ‘camp’ they had so carefully set up a few hours before, stuffed it back into the handcarts, lit their lanterns and started off down a wilderness trail. After about 15 minutes we came to a meadow and in the dark everyone set up camp again.
The weather for day one had been fine. Fairly hot, with a little breeze now and then and no rain. The 2 boys set up a large tarp on one side of the handcart to cover the sleeping bags of the 4 girls in case it rained. The boys were on the other side of the cart out under the stars in true pioneer spirit and Dad and I between the boys and girls in front of the cart, also under the stars.
We took a few minutes to talk with our family about our ‘thorns and roses’ for the day and they got to write in their journals. My ‘rose’ was how great all the kids were and my thorn was the meal prep was so frustrating because they equipment list they gave us was really not adequate for the tasks. But in retrospect, we learned some things we would not have learned.
So with adequate sleeping arrangements in place (though a pillow would have been nice) we all went to sleep. Then at some point in the night I heard Dad say to me “Here comes the rain!” and quickly it started pouring. I scooted myself under the tarp and crammed in with the girls, Dad went under the cart, and the boys just threw their tarps over them and we all tried to get back to sleep.
Day Two: In the morning it did not take long to assess the damage from the rainstorm. The girls were mostly dry with some definite damp areas; Dad was dry; and the boys were SOAKED TO THE BONE – their clothes and all their bedding. ALL SOAKED. Note to all: When you throw a tarp over you, make sure it is over the lower layer of the tarp as well, touching the grass. The blue side there made a nice reservoir for the sleeping bag to soak up water all night.
As a side note, Kylee’s group—the Allen Family, with their massive tarps for roof and walls, and the brothers’ Boy Scout ingenuity and know-how, they had worked for hours erecting a sleeping structure that had kept them all warm and dry all night. (But they didn’t learn as much as our kids did!) As they heard everyone frantically trying to cope with the rain, they were singing and playing games (it was the middle of the night, by the way.) Their structure came to be known as ‘The AL-INN. And rightly so.
The Allen Family
Alex, Brandon, Jake, Kylee, Ma and Pa Biery, Kayla, Katie, Laurel, Daniella
The breakfast menu, Johnny cakes (sort of flat cornbread pancakes) was to be fried on a griddle. Given that we had only wet firewood, and the whole grilling thing was pretty time and labor intensive, we decided to just mix it all together and put it in the Dutch oven and make a big pan of cornbread. It turned out cooked just right, but it was very salty and very flat. We each had a taste of it but calling it breakfast would be too generous.
As we were eating and loading up all our wet stuff, it began to rain again. We got on our rain ponchos and began our trek for real. We hiked through the mud for about four hours. It was raining the whole time but there was no complaining. We all recognized that the rain was keeping us from getting too hot, and they thought all the mud was pretty fun. The trail was very difficult. Lots of hills up and down, lots of ruts and rocks, lots of uneven ground, and LOTS of mud. It took us all pushing and pulling and working together to get that cart through it all. It was great fun, which was the most surprising part to me. Our lunch break consisted of an apple, a biscuit and a stick of jerky. Even though our breakfast had been minimal, and the physical exertion great, that small lunch was perfectly adequate. And the rain had started to clear about this time.
After lunch all the boys and pa’s were taken to one end of the trail where Dad talked to them about the Mormon Battalion experience. Meanwhile, the girls and Ma’s were in another location and I talked to them about it. Once they understood that they were going to have to push the carts by themselves for awhile they re-organized the families so those like us with only 3 girls to push were loaned some sisters from the other families. After a word of prayer, we set out. It was challenging but we did just fine. The loaded carts weigh up to 1,000 pounds. You could see the satisfaction the girls felt in their efforts. After about 10 minutes we passed the area where the boys were. They had been instructed to walk behind their family cart as it passed and not to talk. It was a pretty meaningful experience for most of the boys, seeing what the girls where doing and not being able to help. Then after about 10 more minutes of following behind us, they were allowed to join in again. That reenactment was one of the highlights of the experience for many of us.
After a few more miles of trekking and a snack of raisins and a granola bar we reached our second evening camping area. They were grateful to pass 4 porta-potties as they entered into camp—which was a Boy Scout requirement for a group of our size. Thank you BSA. But during the day Kylee and others did have the unique experience of using the woods for a latrine.
Now we scoped out another area to set up our family’s camp. Half of us worked on getting the sleeping bags and tarps set up, and the other half were to get a fire going and get dinner cooking. Both teams had nearly insurmountable challenges. My team discovered through the course of the day the wetness in the cart had dampened more of the sleeping bags. We determined we had 3 mostly dry ones for the 4 girls to share, Dad and I gave up one of ours to the boys to share and we took the other one. After an hour or more, the shelter we built was pitiful but hopefully barely adequate. And with only damp wood to work with, Dad and the fire team still had not made fire. And then it started to rain. Not only rain, but thunder and lightning. The tarps and bags began to take on a little more water from either below, above, or from the sides. Some of the fire team held tarps over the head of those trying to start the fire. If I could characterize our little family, I think I would say we were discouraged but uncomplaining. Pitiful, but determined. It was a low point but we were not in the depths of despair. That was amazing in and of itself. These youth, amazing! Everyone just kept on trying. I wouldn’t say any of us were cheerful, but definitely determined. The leaders were even discussing bringing in some Coleman stoves so the families could make dinner. We considered forgetting the beef and eating the potatoes and carrots raw. As the lightning continued Dad and I become very concerned. We stepped off to quiet area for a moment and he offered a prayer that they Lord would please protect all of us from the lightning—and he added that if He would like the cause the rain to stop that would be nice too, but we really just wanted them to be safe. It seemed to me that in the next five minutes it poured really hard and then just stopped and the sun came out! I guess the clouds just dumped whatever they had left and moved on. We went back to our spot and offered a prayer of thanks. I’m sorry we hadn’t stopped and gathered all the kids with us for both those prayers. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it, but we missed a teaching moment.
For the next two hours we tried to assess the rain damage to the sleeping quarters and reconfigure the beds. All of the sleeping bags now had some level of dampness to them. It was decided that the boys would have a dampened bag on a tarp under them and a tarp for a blanket, and Dad and I would have the same. The girls were still situated with a tarp under and over them and 3 dampened bags to share.
Our bed
We finally got our fire going and invited the two families next to us just to bring their pots and ingredients over and we made one big beef stew with carrots, onions and potatoes to share. No one had the energy to make the biscuits so we did without, and were satisfied.
After dinner everyone gathered for some singing and a wonderful message about William Clayton and the circumstances under which he wrote “Come, Come Ye Saints.” They had had rain 52 days in a row, but it was cold and freezing rain and they were never dry. They woke up with their clothes and bedding wet and frozen. They had been in mud for weeks on end pushing tons of equipment and had made very little progress along the trail. But he had received word that his wife, still in Nauvoo and just given birth to a healthy boy. He retired to the trees and wrote the song “All is well, all is well.” We could all relate to that story and I imagine everyone felt as grateful as I did that in spite of the rain, we were not cold. And we knew that tomorrow night we would all be showered and in our own beds.
There was some general sense that there would be no rain during the night, which I think was just optimistic thinking rather than revelation, but it turned out to be the case. Before going to bed I put on my dry shirt, skirt and bloomers, shoes and socks, although my underwear was still wet, I definitely felt almost human again. Dad’s ‘dry’ shirt was really not that dry and so changing his shirt didn’t make much difference. We gathered our kids around us for some family prayer etc and talked about the day’s experiences and our thorns and roses. The kids all love the trekking part, all the mud, all the rain, all the pushing and pulling, all the laughing and working together, as did Dad and I. That was the rose for me. The thorn was wondering if I could have done more to help keep their things dry. I wished I had had more foresight in that regard.
So we all went to bed—and I use the term loosely. The girls seemed adequately comfortable and I believe fell asleep pretty quickly. Brianne’s brother, with only a tarp under him and a tarp over him snored the whole night! Well, someone got a good night’s sleep! The boys talked for a few hours and I think eventually got some sleep. Dad and I just laid there feeling the dampness more and more each minute. The dampness from underneath was seeping through the tarp and through the sleeping bags. The 100% humidity was leaving condensation on the underside of the tarp we were using as our blanket. We were getting wetter and wetter. The tarp made a loud crinkly noise every time we moved. We judged it to be about midnight. Due to the long lines to the potty and the busy-ness of the night I had forgotten to take care of that detail. It could be delayed no longer. I looked around for some ‘private wilderness’ close by, but it was not to be had, so with my ‘emergency flashlight’ I trekked slowly and quietly through the mud and everyone’s campsite and down the hill to the potties. (It was worth it.) And I noticed how nice the temperature was outside and I was grateful—oh SO grateful for that, and that the rain had stopped and that we hadn’t been bothered by many bugs. It was really an example of the glad game. I was truly able to think of all the things I was grateful for. But trying to get to sleep was really out of the question. All through the night I would look up to the sky for any sign of morning; I would try to guess what time it was and how many more hours I had left. As the hours went by, with everything so wet it did get a little chilly. I was able to get a little bit warmer getting closer to Dad, but considering we were pretty soaked, it was only a marginal improvement. Finally the sky seemed to be a little lighter. I could still see the moon, and the birds weren’t singing yet, but it seemed that morning was finally on its way. I got up and Dad soon joined me. As far as we could see, we were the only ones up, but I’m sure we were not the only ones awake. We stirred our coals and noticed there was a little bit of red in them from last night. While he scouted around for some dry sticks, I used toilet paper for kindling and with minimal effort we were able to get a grand fire going. About that time we heard a rooster crow; people were starting to emerge. Within 10 minutes of standing around that fire I felt dry and warm and fine. Dad and I agreed that it was the MOST miserable night we had ever, EVER spent. But at that moment I recognized that compared to the good stuff, the misery is but a small moment---in the trek, in our lives on earth and then ultimately in the afterlife. This too shall pass. There will be joy in the morning. So with the misery of the night just a memory, and of no consequence except the good lessons learned, we prepared for the last day.
Day Three: Breakfast was oatmeal and biscuits. Again, our three families shared a big pot of oatmeal and we chose not to bother with the biscuits. We loaded up and were on our way for our final leg, our entering “the valley.” We gathered together for instructions and Dad shared with the group the story of the Sweetwater crossing where three 18 year-old young men carried the fragile and near-death Willie and Martin handcart pioneers over the frozen river. All of us felt the solemnity of the moment. He explained that in a few minutes we would need to cross a creek with water about knee deep and those young men and young women who wished to participate in a Sweetwater reenactment could do so. About 40 young women stayed behind while all others pulled the handcarts through the water. Then about two dozen young men went back across and working in pairs carefully carried a young women across the unstable, rocky riverbed until all were safely across. Although there were a few humorous moments and cheering for their friends, and notwithstanding that we were warm and healthy and the creek was cool and refreshing, it is safe to say that everyone appreciated the symbolism of the experience. It was a grand sight to see the determined faces of the young men and the cautiously optimistic faces of the young women as they crossed.
After another hour of trekking in the hot sun we appreciated even more the blessing of the previous day’s rain. Our snack break was just eating up anything we had left over—for us, one apple, raisins, a little jerky, one granola bar and then the youth were each asked to find a spot in the meadow away from anyone else and take their journals and their scriptures and spend about 45 minutes in quiet contemplation. I think most were grateful for the opportunity to reflect.
We were now nearing the end. Our horse, which we had on occasion hooked up to the back of our cart to help slow us as we made a steep decent, was hooked to the front of our cart; and with Brianne riding her in, they joyfully pulled our cart with the other kids walking beside as we made our grand entry into ‘the valley.’ We all then gathered for a wonderful testimony and a feast that had been prepared for us. It was a grand and wonderful experience and I am so glad I did it. Would I want to do it again in four years? I don’t think so, but I might be willing to take charge of the hoe-down so I could hang around long enough to enjoy some of that wonderful trek experience again.
Here are some principles I took away from the experience that I hope will be lasting:
The things I worried most about didn’t happen.
Moral: Things tend to work out.
We all have great capacity that can be more fully tapped in difficult times.
Moral: I can do hard things!
Being physically miserable isn’t that big of a deal. And you learn a lot.
Moral: Misery is only temporary, joy is forever.
Happy but dirty pioneers
THE END
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