The honor of donning the title “pioneer” is not reserved for those trekkers of the 19th century, but neither is it bestowed on just anyone who embarks on a grand journey. The distinction belongs to those who can cross the last stream.
The starting line for most trailblazers in the 1800s was ambitiously far from their destination. Of the estimated 60,000 to 70,000 pioneers who entered the Salt Lake Valley during the last half of the 19th century, some 98% came from Europe.
After leaving homes, belongings, cultures, friends and families behind, all European migrants eventually came up against a seaport and a vast ocean ahead of them. With faith, they sailed the more than 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to the New World. Though quarters were tight and some died en route, hopes remained high.
Upon entering the United States, those convert immigrants made their way to the edge of the country where modern transport could carry them no further. With wagons and handcarts in tow, they walked their way westward.
Their next hurdle, the mighty Mississippi River, was a far cry from the Atlantic but still formidable. Pioneers crossed at widths of nearly a mile — difficult, but manageable for most.
Across the plains they walked until they met the Missouri River. Despite being the longest river in the United States, pioneers crossed at widths of less than 1,000 feet — only a fifth the distance of the Mississippi.
This week we honor those who do see it through — those who cross their last stream.
Through modern-day Nebraska they continued. The elevation climbed heading into the Rocky Mountains, but moving from Wyoming to the Great Salt Lake was more or less a straight shot. Except for an unfortunate few.
The Martin Handcart Company got a late start to their journey in 1856, entering Wyoming as November set in alongside an early winter. The weary pioneers had already endured cold, heartache and pain when they stumbled up to an impossible task: crossing the Sweetwater River.
Compared to the Atlantic and the country’s two largest rivers, one could reasonably call the Sweetwater River a creek. It measured 40 feet across and a mere two feet deep. Yet this was the body of water that caused grown men to fall to their knees and weep. According to the record, it was filled with “plenty of ice and snow, so as to carve the recollection forever in the minds of all that waded that stream.” “O dear? I can’t go through that” exclaimed one man. After thousands of miles across the ocean, thousands more across the land, eight yards separated hope from total despair.
But they didn’t fail. A rescue effort arrived and three teenage boys, perhaps more, tirelessly carried those weary pioneers across the ice and water. With a final surge of determination and a helping hand, they crossed their last stream.
Truly, they were pioneers, and the lessons of that day resonate more than 150 years later. Untold numbers of teams, governments, businesses and people tout their lofty goals, but few have the tenacity, or the humility, to fight to the end. This week we honor those who do see it through — those who cross their last stream.