Day 2--Martin's Cove and Oscar

We met Oscar the next morning, Tuesday. This big, white dog just appeared and started following us. Each family had a different name for him. We called him Bosco and were sure he liked the Red family best because he spent so much time with us. We later learned he had been featured in The Friend magazine; he’s a ranch dog who spends his summers trekking with groups he likes.

Oscar!

This day, we actually went into Martin’s Cove where the pioneers took refuge. Before walking there, we saw 4 statues that commemorated the sacrifice of the rescuers who gave their lives taking people across the Sweetwater. It was heart-rending and sobering to see the representations of such helpless people—men, women, children, babies—as the rescuers helped them do something they could not have done for themselves.

Can you see the baby and the child this rescuer is carrying?

As we trekked to Martin’s Cove itself, I tried to imagine what it must have looked like for the Saints. The ground would have been covered in snow from the recent blizzard; it would probably still have been snowing. But when it was clear, the pioneers would have seen vast expanses of snow-covered ground, with no end in sight. They had insufficient clothing and food, and their strength was beyond spent. I felt hopeless just thinking of their situation; how would they ever get to Salt Lake City? Sitting in the Cove, I felt I could almost see the suffering Martin Company there—freezing, starving, babies crying…what a sacrifice! I walked for a pioneer named Zilpah Jacques. She had given birth just a few weeks earlier and had a 2-year-old daughter suffering the effects of measles. She was in this cove with her family—how did they do this? She later said that though things are hard, if we trust in the Lord, our burdens will be made lighter. They won’t be removed, but will become easier to bear.

Looking into Martin's Cove

We made our way back to where we had originally picked up our handcarts—10 miles of walking this day. We got on the bus and drove about 40 minutes or so to where the Willie Handcart Company had their many struggles when the same blizzard hit their group. (These next two days, we would trek on part of the National Historic Trail where the Mormon Pioneer Trail, the Oregon Trail, and the Pony Express converge. This is what I was excited about. There are only 2,000 or so permits a year issued to walk this trail. I was going to see history! Funny enough, history looked a lot like the rest of Wyoming—sage brush and nothing but sky and mountains so far away they seemed unattainable.)

Tuesday night, we danced! I had no idea square-dancing was so much fun. Even though we’d walked 18 miles over the previous 2 days, I think most of us wanted to keep dancing while the missionaries who called the dance were tired out. I could see how the music and dancing around the campfires at night rejuvenated the pioneers.