Continuing the series begun in February, here:

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TREK 2016
Ensign and Emigration Stakes, Salt Lake City, Utah
March

“… do these things with thanksgiving, with cheerful hearts and countenances …
with a glad heart and a cheerful countenance.”
– Doctrine and Covenants 59:15

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Life on the Trail

The pioneers’ day started before daylight: As early as 4:00 a.m., a bugle or bell or rifle shot was sounded to waken the people and start them to work. Men and boys built fires, and brought in the cattle that had been grazing under the watchful eye of camp guards, and milked the cows if they had them. Women and girls prepared breakfast; usually breakfast consisted of bacon, and cornmeal porridge, or biscuits baked in a camp kettle. Families held prayer near their own wagons.

By 6:00, the people were taking down tents and washing the breakfast dishes, and packing everything back into the wagons. Teamsters put yokes over the shoulders of the oxen, and fastened wooden bows around their necks, and hitched them to the wagons. In the handcart companies, the youngest children and oldest adults, and anybody else who couldn’t walk fast and who might slow down the company, started on the road. Later in the morning the rest of the handcart company would catch up to them.

Sometimes a few men on horseback would ride ahead of the wagons, carrying shovels and other tools to improve the road if it was badly rutted, or if a summer storm had washed rocks onto the trail.

By 7:00, the pioneers started traveling. The order of the wagons changed from day to day, so that everybody got a chance to be near the front of the train, and nobody had to always be at the end of the train where they choked on the dust from all the wagons ahead.

They “nooned” for an hour or two, eating cold food for lunch and letting the animals rest and graze. Sometimes, if they were behind schedule or if they were a long way from water or a good camping ground, they would cut this break short and push ahead.

Pioneers tried to travel until about 5:00, but that time varied according to conditions: They needed wood, water, and grass for a decent camping ground, so they might stop early or push on until much later, depending on trail conditions.

When they camped, they pulled their wagons into a circle. Cattle were turned out to graze, if everything seemed safe, or herded in the center of the circle if leaders thought it was necessary. The first hours in camp were very busy, as pioneers unpacked tents and bedding and cooking utensils, hunted for wood or buffalo chips to burn, brought in water, and prepared supper. Supper wasn’t much different from breakfast: bacon, beans, stewed fruit (most pioneers brought dried fruit in their supplies), and only rarely fresh meat, if hunters were able to find game.

After supper there might be a camp meeting where leaders gave instructions, preached sermons, and made assignments. Watchmen were appointed to stand guard during the night. Sometimes, especially early in their travels, the pioneers would dance to fiddle music. The company prayed together in their camp meetings, and again as families when they returned to their own wagons.

By 8:00 the camp was quiet. Most of the pioneers had gone to bed; others might linger around the campfires for a little while longer, talking about their day, or about the people they had left behind, or about what they hoped to find in their new homes in the West. One by one the fires were extinguished, and eventually the only movement in camp would be the regular rounds of the night watchmen. Another day was over.

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Two Days on the Trail, 1853

This excerpt from the camp journal of the 1853 Arthur wagon company illustrates the daily pioneer schedule:

July 23 Saturday. Started ¼ to 8 [7:45.] Rolled on 10 Miles, rested 2 Hours for dinner and rolled on 10 Miles more. Very good Sandy Road. Camped 8 o clock. Plenty of Wood. (Bros Chatfield and Jones on Watch)

July 24 Sunday. Camped all day. Many of the Sisters in the Morning Baking & cooking. Some of the Brethren fishing. Some gathering Wood. The day was very fine. In the afternoon 4 o Clock a meeting was called by the Blowing of the Horn. Brothers Lyon, Waddington, Gates addressed the meeting – Bro Lyon exhorted to general obedience, and supplications to God. Bro Waddington said he could lie down happy because he felt He had done his duty. Bro Gates observed that we was amongst the Pawnee Nation – exorted us to watch and not to be far away from the camp – no[t] to whip our cattle to much – and pray to God to combat the elements for us. He said we had improved more than he expected – in driving – and general knowledge of our duties – remarked we should have Buffalow meat soon – he wanted to eat his dinner the fifth of October in the valley. Lyon closed meeting with prayer.

“Hunting Rabbits” and
“Picking Wildflowers”

On the overland trail there were no bathrooms, of course – no outhouses, no port-a-potties – so, where did the pioneers go when they had to go?

At the beginning of the trek, leaders designated one side of the trail for the men to “hunt rabbits,” and the other side of the trail for the women to “pick wildflowers.” That way, even though you were probably still in the open, with maybe a bush for cover, at least you could preserve a little modesty by not running into each other.

Groups of women and girls tended to go together, especially when there was little cover to shield themselves from view of the handcarts or wagons. While some women were busy, other women stood side by side facing the trail, holding their skirts out, to create a privacy wall.

There was no toilet paper, of course. If you were a pioneer, you used leaves or handfuls of dried grass or any other natural material if it was available. And everybody – man, woman, adult, and child – also had a personal rag. When your rag wasn’t being used, it hung from a nail on the side or bottom of the wagon or cart.

You washed it as often as possible. There were rules about washing personal rags in camp – it had to be done far out in a stream where the water ran fast, and downstream from where the company drew its drinking and washing water. That became difficult late in the summer when streams became narrower and slower. Still, it was absolutely vital to follow the rules. When a pioneer camp had cholera or typhoid or dysentery, it was almost always because someone broke the rules and germs got into the drinking water.

So now you know.

Oxen on the Trail

Every pioneer company included wagons pulled by oxen. Even the handcart companies had a few wagons to carry their tents and other heavy supplies. Many pioneers, especially those who came from Europe or from large American cities in the East, had never been around oxen before.

Josiah Francis (called “Si”) Gibbs was just 11 years old when he crossed the plains in 1857. He watched the adults struggle to work with the oxen. “Gee!” told the animals to turn right; “haw!” told them to turn left; “whoa!” meant to stop. He thought it was funny to watch people yell at the oxen in Danish when the oxen recognized only English commands.

He felt sorry for the oxen who had to pull heavy wagons during hot days, their eyes and noses choked with dust from the wagons ahead of them:

“Often great clouds of dust rises from the road and envelopes the slow moving caravan. Ever onward towards the west, those ever patient cattle toil laboriously with their heavy loads. From the heated earth arises dust that clogs the nostrils of those patient brutes, and fills their blinded eyes until almost human tears course down their drawn and wrinkled cheeks. Dust covered tongues protrude from mouths parched with thirst, the cruel bows sink deep behind the shoulder joints, yet onward through the dust and heat they toil with no murmur of complaint at their hard lot.”

Si also remembered stampedes among the pioneers’ cattle:

“There was a mysterious something in the air of the great plains that affected even the tired and gentle oxen and caused them to be extremely sensitive to unusual sights and sounds. The crack of a rifle, the distant bellow of a buffalo or the muffled roar from a herd of thousands of those “monarchs of the plains,” the bark of a coyote, and often without visible cause, I have seen them start and with tails and heads high in the air race madly for miles. At other times as if each animal were touched with a live wire they would spring into their yokes and dragging the heavy wagons stampede in every direction. One scene of a stampede became our camp-ground. A bleached buffalo skull bore in lead pencil the sad history and, so far as my memory serves me, read as follows: ‘Captain Jesse Martin’s train of 42 wagons camped here July 27th 1857. As we were driving into camp the oxen stampeded killing a mother and son.’ A couple of freshly made graves with buffalo skulls for headstones bore gruesome evidence of the tragedy.”

Making Camp

11-year-old Rachel Emma Woolley remembered what it was like when the Brigham Young company made camp in 1848:

“While travelling, there was always someone sent ahead on horseback to search out the best place for a camp. Then when it was reached, the wagon at the head of each line would stop, and the next one would drive just as close as possible to it, then the next and so on until they were all in each row formed into a semicircle with an opening at the beginning and end. These gates or openings were left so the animals could be driven out and in. There was a guard placed both in the corral and out and I often think of the cheery call of the guard when all was quiet in camp. It was in this wise, ‘Twelve o’clock in the corral and all is well.’ Then the next would take up the call, until each one of the guards had given the hour.

A Practical Joke

Zebulon Jacobs crossed the plains many times, first in 1848 when he was 6 years old, and later as a missionary and as a teamster helping bring in other pioneer companies. In 1861, when he was 19, he recorded this:

“Saturday, August 17. As we woke up in the morning all hands began laughing at each other, as our faces were besmeared with tar and wagon grease. Some of the boys from the other camp had paid us a visit and left their compliments upon our faces.”

Around the Campfire

Betsey Smith, age 13, traveled with the Willie handcart company in 1856:

“Around the camp-fire we had very good times. There was Brother Alexander Burt, Brother David Anderson and others, and our girls who sang the old songs and hymns that warmed our hearts.”

“We Merry Mormons”

The trail was an adventure to 13-year-old Ruth May in 1859.

“A small tent, just large enough for five of us to sleep in side by side like sardines in a can was strapped to the wagon each morning and set up every night. Our train consisted of about sixty wagons, ten of them belonging to English speaking people, while the other emigrants were from Scandinavian countries.

“We traveled early and late, sometimes short days, sometimes long ones, under our Captain’s directions, as he was supposed to know where we might find the best camping places and where we might find water. This did not always happen.

“One crack of his whip on the tent or wagon cover, whether at 3 a.m. or 5 a.m. meant ‘roll out.’ Killing snakes, plodding through the burning sands, wading streams, climbing mountains, sickness, sore feet, and a snow storm at South Pass, were trifles. One baby was born, and there was one sorrowful occurrence when a young man was accidentally killed by a stray shot. But we could still sing:

We may get wet a little
When we have a shower of rain;
The heat may skin our noses,
But they’ll soon get well again;
And when we think of Zion’s land
We’ll forget the wet and pain.
So get up my lads, gee, whoa,
Push on, my lads, hi, ho,
For there’s none can lead a life
Like we merry Mormons do.

“One little picture that may be interesting. To make camp by a stream of water was one of the luxuries of the plains. This could not always be done, and occasionally there was great disappointment when we found a creek but no water. Whenever the Captain was fearful of such a result we were told to carry some water with us from our last camping place. One day we camped a short distance from a river, and we girls were sent for water. Apparently we stayed too long. While we were gone, Father had unyoked the cattle and being very tired had thrown himself on the ground to rest. One of the brethren came along and asked, ‘Brother May, how are you?’ The answer came back, ‘Oh there isn’t much the matter. I have a sick wife, two sore heels, and two dummies.’ I was one of the dummies.”

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“It Was Too Late”

William Henry Nichols was 25 when he crossed the plains in 1861. He wrote:

“One night, being on guard toward morning, there was something dodging around the wagons. A man on guard with me said it is a woodcock. I was going to shoot at it. My mate said, ‘You will alarm the camp. Don’t shoot.’ I picked up a club and chased it a considerable distance from the camp and killed it. The man on guard with me came running up to me and said, ‘It’s a skunk.’ But it was too late. The mischief was done.

“The fact of the matter I was completely smothered. I had to change all of my clothes. I could not afford to throw my clothes away. I made a bundle of them, and put them in the river until we started out again.

“Although I changed all of my clothes, at breakfast Mrs. Falkes said, ‘Henry, do go away and take your mush with you.’ I complied and went a distance from the camp and ate my breakfast alone. I felt quite sick.

“One incident makes me laugh when I think of it was when we were getting ready to start out. I took the bundle of clothes from the river and lashed them under the wagon. The old fellow knew nothing of this circumstance. When we had traveled a couple of miles the sun became warm. It affected the bundle, and the old Fellow said, ‘Where does that smell come from?’

“At night I would put my bundle in the river again and in the course of a few days they got to a normal condition again. I had to take several baths before I was properly sterilized.”

“We Enjoyed Ourselves Evenings”

Fanny Fry was 16 when she helped to pull a handcart across the plains in 1859. She wrote:

“There were fifty-eight handcarts, with an average of three to a cart. Our rations when we started was a pint of flour a day, and we had some bacon and soap. We had to take a cold water wash for the want of a vessel to warm the water in.

“At the Elk Horn River, my feet were so swollen I could not wear my shoes. Then when the swelling went out, my feet were so sore from the alkali that I never had on a pair of shoes after that for the entire journey.

“After a while we recovered our usual spirits and enjoyed ourselves evenings around camp visiting each other, with singing and other amusements. There was one song we would sing which would make the shivers creep over me:

Do they miss me at home? Do they miss me?
It would be an assurance most dear
To know at this moment some loved one
Were saying, “I wish he was here,”
To know that the group near the fireside
Were thinking of me as I roam.
Oh, it would be joy beyond measure
To know that they missed me at home.

“I recollect one day the captain put me to a cart with six people’s luggage on and only three to pull it – a woman, a lad of sixteen, and I, seventeen. All grown people were allowed twenty pounds of luggage apiece and their cooking utensils besides. That made quite a load for us. I know it was the hardest day’s work I ever remember doing in all my life before or since. We had to pull up quite a long hill, and part of it was steep. In climbing we got behind one of the teams for the oxen to help us, for it was all we could do to keep it moving.”

The Handcart Song

The pioneers sang this song, written by John D.T. McAllister, beginning in 1856, the first year of handcart use. These are the original words, which are quite different from the words sung today in Primary. The original words reminded the pioneers that they were leaving “the wicked world” behind and were going “home” to Zion.

Ye Saints who dwell on Europe’s shore,
Prepare yourselves for many more
To leave behind your native land,
For sure God’s judgments are at hand.
For you must cross the raging main
Before the promised land you gain,
And with the faithful make a start
To cross the plains with your handcart.

For some must push and some must pull
As we go marching up the hill.
So merrily on our way we go
Until we reach the Valley-o.

The lands that boast of modern light
We know are all as dark as night,
Where poor men toil and want for bread,
Where peasant hosts are blindly led.
These lands that boast of liberty
You ne’er again would wish to see,
When you from Europe make a start
To cross the plains with your handcart.

For some must push, etc.

As on the road the carts are pulled,
’Twould very much surprise the world
To see the old and feeble dame
Thus lend a hand to pull the same.
And maidens fair will dance and sing,
Young men more happy than a king,
And children too, will laugh and play,
Their strength increasing day by day.

For some must push, etc.

But some will say, it is too bad
The Saints upon the foot to ‘pad,’
And more than that, to pull a load,
As they go marching o’er the road.
But then we say, it is the plan
To gather up the best of men,
And women too – for none but they
Will ever travel in this way.

For some must push, etc.

And long before the Valley’s gained
We will be met upon the plains
With music sweet and friends so dear,
And fresh supplies our hearts to cheer.
And then with music and with song,
How cheerfully we’ll march along,
And thank the day we made a start
To cross the plains with our handcarts.

For some must push, etc.

When you get there among the rest,
Obedient be and you’ll be blest,
And in God’s chambers be shut in
While judgments cleanse the earth from sin.
For we do know it will be so;
God’s servants spoke it long ago.
We say it is high time to start
To cross the plains with our handcarts.

For some must push, etc.