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Pioneer Trek — 1989


Our Stake summer youth activity during 1989 involved participating in a BYU-sponsored “Pioneer Trek”.  We in our ward had some uplifting experiences even in preparing to go on the Trek and in encouraging our youth to participate. Several of our youth made significant sacrifices and schedule changes to come.  Our experience with one young sister was particularly poignant.  Myself and the other counselor in the bishopric told her just three days before the Trek that we would sorely miss having her on the Trek and hoped she could arrange to come.  She told her mother later that night how good it felt to be “wanted”.  I was delighted to see her come.

Thursday morning, July 27, dawned beautifully and we all met at the chapel dressed in our pioneer garb.  Spirits were high and smiles were broad despite the forecast of rain for the coming days.  The women were very becoming in their long dresses, bonnets, bloomers, and aprons.  We headed on our way to the trailhead and two mandatory ‘7-11’ stops were made, and much good humor was exchanged.  Smiles were replaced with somber expressions as we viewed the trail ahead, divided into “families”, and met our “Ma” and “Pa”.  We were told that the primary purpose of the Trek was to have fun.  No other persons from our ward were in the family I was assigned to, but I did know one sister from the 1st Ward.  I soon became close friends with the other adult leaders in our ‘family’.  After introductions, prayer, and general instructions , we faced our first challenge — carrying our duffel bags two miles to the handcart assembly area.  We also had our belongings searched for illegal contraband (candy, toilet paper, deodorant, etc.).  One of the adult leaders in our ‘family’ had many articles confiscated, much to his dismay and our entertainment.

We assembled and loaded our cart and prepared to embark.  Our somber faces soon turned to frowning faces as dark clouds lowered and a tremendous downpour of rain and hail started.  This cloudburst lasted about 30 minutes and we found ourselves drenched, cold, and muddy.  The road turned into a river of mud.  One of my friends in the stake reported a lightning strike no more than 50 yards from his handcart.  Fortunately the storm abated, and much to our delight, we pulled the handcarts in cool, cloudy weather for the remainder of the pull.  The pull was incredibly difficult, both physically and emotionally.  We started at 3 pm and ended the next morning at 2 am.  We endured steep hills, steep declines, rain, fatigue, exhaustion, and the “woman’s pull”.  The “woman’s pull” was this: as we approached the steepest part of the pull, we men were told to step away from the handcarts, to not pull or assist with the carts in any way, and simply to encourage and support the women as they pulled.  We were also told to maintain strict silence.  This went on for one and one-half hours and it was backbreaking for the women.  We could only dab them with cold bandannas, fan their faces, or move rocks out of their way.  No verbal communication was allowed.  I felt helpless, frustrated, and empathetic as I watched the women of our family struggle.  Myself and an ENT surgeon that I knew well were the only physicians on the Trek, and were thus called on to assist those who faltered.  By the time I had seen the 7th or 8th woman with heat exhaustion, I was beginning to question the wisdom of the “Woman’s Pull”.  One young lady was particularly ill with markedly increased heart rate, increased temperature, prostration, and dizziness.  We needed to start an IV line for her and hydrate her with intravenous fluids. Unbelievably, the ‘sponsors’ of the Trek felt that myself and my colleague were overreacting and told us that the young woman would be ‘just fine’ if allowed to rest. We also became extremely concerned with a 60 year-old sister who became disoriented and overheated.

We reached the summit of the canyon at about 11 pm and stopped to sing hymns, but due to the lightning strikes all around us, the decision was made to pull on.  A remarkable story was related by a young woman on the trek.  She has night blindness and is extremely hard of hearing, and thus her parents were very concerned about letting her go on the trek, but after many prayers and with much faith, they let her go.  This young woman related that after it turned dark and we were still pulling our carts, her long-deceased great grandmother held her hand and guided her for several hours until we reached our first camping spot.

I took 2 turns in the “yoke”, pushing on the metal bar of the cart.  This was grueling work because of the need to push down on the bar as well as forward.  The last 2 hours of the pull were agonizing, with pitch-blackness, muscle fatigue, hunger, and extreme thirst.  We did, however, gain the satisfaction of enduring to the end with fortitude.  Many folks had to drop off the carts and be assisted the final miles of the pull.  Our women were proud of the job they had done on the women’s pull, as were we.  I have never been so happy to see a welcoming campfire as the one that marked the end of the evening’s pull.  Our repast was 1 cup of thin broth and 1 roll.  They tasted wonderful.  We slept under the stars for about three hours on bedrock meagerly covered with dirt, and then had breakfast consisting of 1 cup of yellow wallpaper paste cleverly disguised as corn meal mush.  We then had a family meeting in which we were all asked to describe our feelings about the pull of the previous day.  We were told that we had pulled 14 miles in 9 hours, and we contemplated what the pioneers endured to do this for 1300 miles, lasting 2 to 3 months.  My heart swelled with gratitude for these stalwart and faithful saints.  We were reminded that the pioneers were mainly city-folks, unaccustomed to rigorous exertion and outdoor exposure.  I thought of my ancestor who walked the entire 1300 miles as an 8-year old boy.  I thought of the ill-fated Willey and Martin handcart companies and countless other souls who perished for their religious beliefs.  The blessing of living in days of luxury and prosperity came into clear focus.

Another 3-mile pull brought us to our base camp, where each family chose a campsite and set up rain shelters.  Another downpour ensued as we finished setting up our camp.  By this time a spirit of camaraderie and unity was prevailing in our family, and I enjoyed watching the interactions between our ma, pa, and the “kids”.  Our ma was lacking in eloquence, maturity, and tact, but she overflowed with enthusiasm and sincerity.  Our lunch that day was an apple and dinner was vegetable stew.  The stew, which everyone had greatly anticipated, was over-peppered by one of our “kids” (he dumped an entire box of black pepper into the stew) and it proved to be inedible.  Our evening fare was then ash cakes and water.  The over-zealous pepper applier was almost sacrificed to the hunger gods in retribution for his vile deed.

A fitful night’s sleep was followed by a very enjoyable Saturday.  Breakfast was again wallpaper paste, this time disguised as oatmeal mush.  We spent the day in workshops such as taffy-pulling, pioneer games, black-powder rifle shooting, candle making, and hair washing.  I enjoyed taking pictures of our youth and leaders in the various activities.  Lunch was a piece of beef jerky.  Each family caught and slaughtered a turkey for dinner.  This proved to be an enlightening and sobering event as we proceeded from a discussion of the sanctity of life to killing the turkey to dressing and preparing the meat.  Turkey McNuggets didn’t sit well with me but desperate hunger forced my hand.  The one cob of corn I was able to procure was heaven-sent.  The youth enjoyed a hoe-down and sing-along that evening.  Our daily rainstorm commenced at sundown and lasted two hours.  Fortunately I was able to keep my bedding dry at this point and slept in relative warmth.  Sunday was an uplifting day.  Our breakfast of 1 cup of whole wheat cereal was delicious but woefully inadequate.  We then went on “THE SCAVENGER HUNT”, wherein we were blindfolded, put on silence, and told to find 5 objects — something smooth, something rough, something alive, something dead, and something yellow.  We were then to sit down and wait for further instruction.  Being the pragmatist that I am, I found my 5 objects in short order and sat down.  Soon I heard singing in the distance.  Many people were stirring around me.  I subsequently learned that I was supposed to considered the warmth and allure of the music to be the “something yellow” and move toward it.  This was a slightly strained and overdone dramatization of the principles of obedience and love and unity.  Private time for soul-searching and scriptures study followed, but I was so pestered by insects and a porcupine that I had a hard time concentrating.

Our pull back to civilization the next day was uneventful, but I have never been so glad to see cars and my wife as that day.  I learned much, experienced much, and felt much on the Trek.

P.S.  As a very sad postscript to this Trek, I must mention that our Stake Young Women’s President fractured her ankle on the Trek.  In the weeks that followed, she developed deep venous thrombosis as a complication of the fracture.  She then suffered a fatal pulmonary embolism.


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