From the Pen of Mary Ann Sherrill at the Bear River

 

The Bear River, Wyoming, (Public Domain Image)

What would this journey of ours be like without the many rivers and streams? Simply impossible. The rivers water our stock, grow grass for their feed, grow timber for our cook fires, give us drinking water and washing water for laundry. We complain about the difficulty of steep or muddy river banks, the quicksand on the bottom, the swift currents, but the rivers are essential to making this trip possible.

 

Diary of Mary Ann Sherrill - at Cokeville, Wyoming

We have made it through all the obstacles on this portion of the trail. We crossed the Big Sandy River, survived the dreadful Sublette Cutoff, and took the ferry over the deep Green River at La Barge.

Green River Cliffs, by Thomas Moran, 1900, in Public Domain

Then we crossed a mountain range before arriving in Cokeville. Next we cross the Bear River and accompany it for about four days until we arrive at Soda Springs in Idaho. The landscapes, the rivers and mountains, even the sky and the clouds, all seem to me to be larger than life. Sometimes I feel like an ant, it is all so big and makes me feel so small.

Pandababy Blog will Return by Tuesday Feb 7 2023

 Don't give up -- James and Mary Ann, and the whole wagon train ensemble, have many adventures to come. We beg pardon for the sudden 'time out' and will return tomorrow.

Romance on the Oregon Trail

Marriage never looked so good! In 1852, a white male citizen 21 years of age or over, qualified for a grant of 160 acres. If married, their wives were entitled to a like amount - held in their own name! In 1853 provisions were added to the law to recognize a widow’s right to a land claim. 6 The law was further amended in 1854 to grant Donation Land Grants to orphans. James Sherrill and Mary Ann Evans were among many who married before leaving on the Oregon Trail, and expected to have a honeymoon on the trail. It was a romantic view which they quickly learned did not match the reality of the dangers, illness and grubby conditions prevailing on the Oregon Trail.

Others met their future spouse on the journey, and married as soon as they arrived in Oregon. One such bride was Amelia Caroline (Evans) Parker, who was in the same wagon train with the Sherrills and Evans families. She traveled with Jacob Thompson and his wife Rhoda (Evans) Thompson, and was probably a niece or younger sister of Rhoda. Amelia was only sixteen. James Parker, a single man twice her age, was also on the wagon train. When they reached Oregon, they made arrangements to get married, on December 30, 1852. They lived on their Oregon Land Grant in Marion County the rest of their lives, and raised their family there. Below is an image from the Bureau of Land Management of their 123.12 acre land claim. One South and Eight West in Section 24 is just south of Silver Falls Highway, and west of the falls, north of the town of Sublimity.

Amelia Caroline (Evans) Parker and James Parker had this land grant
of 123.12 acres in Marion County. Image in Public Domain (a Government Document).
Click once on the image to enlarge, once more to return to blog. 

Many of the families who emigrated to Oregon were, like the Evans and Sherrills, traveling with relatives. Most often they claimed their land grants in adjacent plots. If you follow the link to the 1852 Wapello County wagon train, you will see a graphic there showing where Richard Evans, James Sherrill, Jacob Thompson, Edward Evans and others located near each other and next to the Willamette River.

Edward Evans Speaks Up: short and brutal or long and safe?

Eighteen miles after we crossed the Continental Divide at South Pass, we came to a crucial decision: short and brutal, taking the Sublette cutoff, or long and safe, going to Fort Hall by way of Fort Bridger.

Most of the people on our wagon train were in favor the cutoff, and dismissed the dangers of forty-five miles with no water and little grass. All of us in the Evans section were in favor of taking the safer, though longer, route. We were voted down. My dad Richard was so disgusted, we thought he might insist on leaving the wagon train and going the longer route on our own. He spoke with the deep feelings of a reticent man who is forced by circumstance to declare himself. He reminded people of the value of even a single trained oxen, and added that it wasn't fair since they would do most of the suffering but they had no vote in the matter.

Snippet from: Oregon Trail Map; Encyclopædia Britannica;
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Oregon-Trail#/media/1/431743/6781;
access Date: Jan 24, 2023.  Click on image for larger font.

I have increasing respect for my father, as I observe his wisdom and kindness every day on this journey. But I am a young, single, man on this train, even if I do have my own wagon.  I already spoke out once.  It's too bad others on our trip have not learned to value him properly. He recommended everyone add an extra barrel or two of water, strapped on the sides of the wagons, and reserved for the oxen.  He held out for starting each day of travel in the middle of the night, to spare the animals the heat of the day.

Two men with lanterns walked at the head of our wagon train during those nights we traversed the fort-five mile sagebrush desert. A more disgusting portion of the trail I hope to never see. There were so many dead oxen, mules and horses, that we were hard put to avoid their carcasses and stick to the trail. The dust was deep and tainted, making me wish I didn't have to breathe. [See John Steele, July 15th, 1850, cited in WyoHistory.org]

Our animals began that section in better shape than most, and all of them came through in good health, ready to pull our wagons the rest of the way to Oregon. Not so with some in our train. Haste truly does make waste. and they had to replace their trained oxen with half-trained, and more expensive, animals at Fort Hall.

At Fort Hall we said farewell to those in our wagon train who were going south to California, to seek their fortune in the gold fields. We preferred the black gold of the rich and fertile earth in Oregon, and we each likely thought the other was making a big mistake. As mother would say, "Time will tell."

Diary of Mary Ann Evans, On the Oregon Trail:

Leaving South Pass, we are on the west side of the Continental Divide. Rivers flow west to the Pacific Ocean. Whether fast and dangerous or slow and deceptive, each river crossing is the potential for disaster. We cross rivers with steep banks leading into and out of the water, rivers with quicksand, rivers with sudden deep pools. Only two had ferries, none had bridges since the second day out from the Missouri River. Water is life to our livestock and to us, but to those who have had all their possessions swept away, or even had a family member drown, the rivers are loss, and even sudden death. Starting on this journey, I could not have foreseen what danger we would find in crossing all these rivers. They look so pretty, and even peaceful.

It is ten days of travel to arrive at Fort Bridger, where they have a blacksmith and supplies of food and clothing. But our wagon train has voted to take the Sublette Cutoff to Fort Hall, skipping the detour to Fort Bridger. Many who are planning to go on to the Mormon center at Salt Lake City, and others who want to the easier trip to Fort Hall, left us at the Parting of the Ways, and went south. We headed west across the dry lands of the Sublette Cutoff, straight towards Cokesville and the Bear River.

We have seen fur traders, and soldiers, and even small wagon trains heading east, back where we are from.  They have their reasons, but today we met an eastbound wagon train which was all women and children.Their husbands and fathers had all died of a fever, and they were going back to their families in the east -- all of them widows. I burst into tears when I heard their story. God have mercy on them.

Albert Bierstadt - Oregon Trail - 1863

Yesterday we had Indians visit our wagon train camp -- again. This has happened often on our trip. They come for food, and to trade their ponies for guns. We don't give them guns, but some people have done so.They were from the Cayuse tribe, and were friendly, because they wanted to trade for our horses, which are larger and stronger than their ponies. Not wanting to let our horses go, we gave them a meal and tobacco to keep the peace with them. I shudder to see long black hair dangling from scalps tied to their lances.