Granted, five hours and 15 miles does not a pioneer make. But riding 15 miles over mostly graveled roads in a springless box wagon gave me a great appreciation for what my pioneer ancestors went through in their exodus from Nauvoo, Ill., to Salt Lake City.
I thought my insides were going to be shaken out - and that was just from a farmer's front lawn to the dirt road in front of his home. It was an inkling of what was to come. There was a lot of hard bouncing and jerking about, but what a choice experience it was.I hated for it to end, and I would do it again in a minute.
My daughter, Diana, and I caught up with the wagon train several miles west of the old Mormon town of Macedonia in southern Iowa, where it had stopped for lunch. There we boarded the wagon of Dean and Helen Wilkins of Wilcox, Ariz. The wagon, a replica of the wagons used by many of the pioneers in their 1846-47 trek "across the Plains," was rebuilt in Nauvoo by LDS missionaries serving at the Webb Blacksmith Shop. The shop was where many of the original pioneer wagons were built.
That, alone, gave us a sense of nostalgia. We were not only riding along the pioneer trail that our forebears had traveled, but we were also in a wagon that was rebuilt in the same shop in which perhaps their wagons had been built.
Thirteen wagons were in our procession, and we were about in the middle. We could see other wagons ahead of us as well as behind us. It was a beautiful sight. In our minds we had a minute glimpse of what it may have looked like in 1846 as thousands of wagons were on the trail.
We even sang "Come Come Ye Saints" as we rolled over the endless green hills of Pottawattamie County. As far as we could see in any direction, fields of corn and soybeans greeted our eyes as we went over one hill and then another, and then another. The false idea that southern Iowa is flat was quickly dispelled. It is easy to understand why the Iowa portion for the Mormon pioneers was so difficult; in fact, it is said that it was the hardest part of the entire trek. Up hills, down hills, up hills, down hills - the never-ending hills that had to be traversed. And they did it in inclement weather. Our weather was delightful and cool. I almost felt guilty for enjoying it so much.
Many on the wagon train had been traveling for three long weeks over a distance of 300 miles. They felt a great sense of accomplishment and fulfillment as they neared their journey's end on the campus of the Iowa School for the Deaf.
"We made it all the way," many yelled as they were cheered by waiting crowds at the campus.
Diana and I felt not accomplishment, for we had not earned that, but appreciation. We paid a small price to more fully appreciate the sacrifice of our ancestors.
That made the bouncing and jarring worth it.