Trek

I feel like I should start with the disclaimer that I've always thought people who are into reenactments are a little. . . special.  The benefit of living in modern day society is that I can wear comfy shoes and wicking fabrics and when I want to get away from the world I can hike up the canyon away from any cell signal (also, there are trees up there!)  I can appreciate that they are enthusiastic about the time period and want to be as authentic as possible, but it never appealed to me.

And then last December the bishop asked if we would be a Ma and Pa on trek, which is a reenactment of the Mormon pioneers who pushed handcarts across the plains to Utah.  And we said yes.  I immediately began to wonder why we couldn't re-enact my great-grandparents journey to Utah by train; and thus the murmuring began.  No surprise there, I'm quite the complainer.

This is the desert out by Magdalena, the site of our Trek.   It is on private lands owned by the Tigner Cattle Company, which has had 5 very hard years due to the drought.  Think about that for a minute, how bad the drought must be if they are having a hard time out in the desert.  

handcarts coming down the hill

5 days, 4 nights, 30 miles.  The hardest part was probably the lack of shade and the brutally hot temps.  

First pioneer dilemma, Ma's 'broken' arm

It was amazing to see the youth look after each other, help each other and be supportive of each other.  There was plenty of whining and complaining, but we all came together to work and do what was needed.  Most impressive were the 'weak' girls who insisted on pulling most of the time--without complaint!  

Family Cookie

dying after the hardest day

Lia, learning to love the shade tarps

 There is a tradition to do a women's pull, where the boys line the road and watch the girls pull the wagons up a hill.  Our girls didn't just pull, they ran up most of the hill.  I couldn't keep up with them.  (which isn't that surprising, I'm old)  That day was a rest day after the big hill, and given the chance to relax my knee decided to give up.  Getting up and down off the ground is hard on a hurting knee, and when the 'military' dose of ibuprofen didn't do doodly squat to help me I had to ride in the med van for the next  half day.    One of the med guys is a nurse in a sports medicine clinic and he wrapped me up good enough to hobble around to get camp set up, but he warned me not to walk on it.  That night at the hoedown I watched from our family blanket as the kids danced and played and had fun.  By the end of the night quite a few of the kids were on our blanket, singing and talking into the dark.  It made me feel good that the kids didn't abandon their broken Ma.

I love camping, love backpacking, love sleeping under the stars; and this trip was no exception.  I think it does the soul good to look into the infinity of stars in the sky and feel small.  Less good were the cactus waiting to spear unsuspecting feet on a midnight potty run, but I still loved the experience and would do it again.  CRAZY!

The last day the kids in the Cookie family voted unanimously to throw me in the cart for the last stretch.  I was feeling all warm and fuzzy about how we were acting like a family who care about each other until I realised that I weigh less than the gear we got to offload into the logistics van.  Oh well, at least we were together on the last day.  The ride in the handcart was the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced.  The roads were rocky and quite bumpy even for cars with a decent suspension, so just imagine the ruts and rocks hitting those wooden wheels.  With a layer of sleeping bags, sleeping pads and pillows under me it was still truly uncomfortable.  But, we made it!

I'm proud that I made it 22 miles.  Too bad I get to pay for it now.

Lookit Black Bart's beard!

Also, I gained 3 pounds on Trek.  I think Gumper really loves me.