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.

Journal of James Sherrill: It's all About the Riversl

For all that the Oregon Trail is on dry land, even etched many inches deep into the land, our wagon train is actually following a series of rivers. We crossed the great Missouri River at Council Bluffs, and then followed the Platte River as far as the Sweetwater River, which joined our trail before Devil's Gate. We stuck to the Sweetwater - a river whose pure, sweet taste matched its name - until just before we reached South Pass.

After going through the pass, we came to Pacific Springs -- not a river, but an important stop on the Oregon Trail, being the first water after leaving the Sweetwater. The water was alkali, barely drinkable for man or beast. The grounds all around the springs was fouled with manure from the oxen, and muddied from all the tramping in the damp ground. There were bodies of dead oxen laying around the springs, putrefying and making it very unpleasant for a stopping place.

We were relieved to move on, crossing a dry river, a branch of the Sandy. Next we came to the Parting of the Ways, where folks taking the easier trail through Fort Bridger to our south, and folks going farther south to Utah and the Mormon center at Salt Lake, took the left hand fork in the trail. We took the right hand fork in the trail, striking out on the Sublette Cutoff, straight towards Cokesville on the Bear River, where the Oregon Trail came up from Fort Bridger towards Fort Hall. We were cutting off the part of the trail that went along the Big Sandy River,, and then the Green River and then the Bear River.

Green River, Wyoming |Source = Christie's |Date = 1878
Author = Thomas Moran, Permission = Public Domain (see note below)

First we crossed the Big Sandy, and after filling our water barrels and every container to the brim, we set out across the forty-five waterless miles that made the Sublette Cutoff so dangerous. We started in the middle of the night, after giving the oxen and everyone a rest, and we drove on through for the next twenty-four hours, pausing again at night, to rest in the cooler temperatures.

White Rock (left), Squaretop Mountain (right) reflected in Green River Lakes.
Bridger-Teton National Forest. 2012 Photo by Julie Campbell. Credit: US Forest Service.

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work prepared by an officer or employee of the United States Government as part of that person’s official duties under the terms of Title 17, Chapter 1, Section 105 of the US Code

Although we didn't follow the Green River, it meandered so that we had to cross it right where it was swift and deep. This was near the little town of La Barge, and we took advantage of the ferries, a rare opportunity on the Oregon Trail. From La Barge we had to navigate a mountain range that was between us and Cokeville, Wyoming, where we could rejoin the main Oregon Trail. The Oregon Trail follows the Bear River from Cokeville all the way to the Soda Springs. We have heard much about those delightful geysers, and are eager to see them.

Click once to enlarge image, click again to return.

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.

Follow the Evans' Wagon Train on the Oregon Trail with this Map:

This map is similar to the one Richard Evans used to bring his family to Oregon Territory in 1852.  Follow the link to the National Park Service to see the map below in a scalable PDF file. Downloadable.

Enlarged Oregon Trail Map from the National Park Service
Section between Fort Laramie and Fort Bridger
Click on map once to see large version, click once again to return.

Mary Ann's Diary: I can see South Pass ahead of us.

 It has been one week's travel from our camp at the Ice Sloughs, and I missed all the sights, lying in the wagon with a fever. I feel weak but am able to sit up on the jockey box at the front end of our wagon.

Now I can see South Pass ahead of us. We will cross the Continental Divide! We'll be on the western side.

This is what we saw as we approached South Pass. The ascent was so gradual,
it was hard to believe we were at the top of the Continental Divide.
CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=91976

 

 

We already passed the "Point of No Return" when we left Fort Laramie. Now we have less distance to Oregon than we would have if we turned around and went back home.

The trail has changed us all, in ways large and small. We are quick to clean up after a meal and pack it all back up, getting back on the trail each morning. James and the other men are very fast at packing up the tents they sleep in, and stuffing them back onto the undercarriage of the wagons. They can hook up a team of oxen in no time! No one hesitates to pick up a buffalo chip and toss it into the fuel pile on the canvas stretched under the wagon. 

We look forward to the Indians crossing our path on the trail, now that we know they would rather trade with us for food and clothing, than do us harm. Of course they would take any opportunity to capture a horse, or even an ox, so we must be vigilant, but we don't get hysterical anymore when someone says, "Indians!" Although we are always wary - of course!

Only a Touch of Fever

 "Oooh, what happened? I'm so dizzy"

"Here now, Mary Ann, don't try to get up. You've had a touch of fever," Nancy replied.

"Oh mama, I feel so weak." Tears slid down Mary Ann's cheeks. 

"Now don't cry, daughter. You will feel just fine in a couple of days.  Try to drink this tea. It even has sugar in it." Nancy bustled around and set pillows behind Mary Ann's shoulders.

Mary Ann leaned against the pillows and sipped her tea. "This is so good, it almost tastes like lemonade."

"I squeezed the last lemon from Fort Laramie into the tea. With sugar, it has a sweet-tart flavor."

Posy of Wyoming wildflowers, for Mary Ann Sherrill, from 6 year old Mary Kyniston -
from BLM Wyoming Native Plants Program, see Footnote at end of page

"Did anyone else get sick, mama?"

"James was sick for two days, but he is well now, and little Mary Ann Kyniston has been sick but is well now."

"Oh no, how long have I been sick?"

"You fainted one week ago when we were camped at the ice sloughs. Your fever was very high, and it was fortunate we were camped where we had plenty of ice to help bring your fever down. Go back to sleep now, Mary Ann. When you wake up, I'll have some buffalo stew for you to try."

"Thank you mama." Mary Ann slid down the pillows and fell asleep wondering where they were now.

Footnote on "BlM Wyoming Native Plants"
Posy for Mary Ann is made up of Wyoming wildflowers:
Left to Right, the flowers are: (orange) Badlands mules-ears; (pink) Indian paintbrush;(orenge) - Badlands mules-ears again; (fading pink)Blazing star; (lavender) Fuzzy tongue penstemon

Tonight we are camped at the Ice Springs in Wyoming.

It has been five days since we left Independence Rock, and we stopped at the ice springs this evening. Men are going out with shovels and buckets to get the ice that lies a foot below the surface plants. We hear some of them talking about making Mint Juleps. We are Methodists, and we don't drink hard liquor, but I can make a nice cold minty drink without the bourbon. I still have sugar from Fort Laramie, and mint in my seasonings, and the ice in the spring is free. I'll surprise James with a cool minty drink, served up in our matching hammered copper mugs that the Thompsons gave us for a wedding present. Meanwhile, I can catch up on my entries in this diary:

We are making good time on the trail. It is mid-July, and we should be over the mountains before the snows. We see such strange rock formations on this trail, given terrible names by the travelers. We passed one such place around noon after leaving Independence Rock - travelers are calling it Devil's Gate! We could see it from the trail, but the trail went around it, not through it. Here is a watercolor of Devil's Gate, by an artist who was also on the Oregon Trail:

Watercolor of Devil's Gate, by Alfred Jacob Miller, done 1858 - 1860
[see copyright note below]

 

Yesterday we crossed the Sweetwater River five times in between hills called The Narrows. 

It was so narrow between the hill and the river bank that our wagons couldn't turn around, and as the wagon train closed up on the trail behind the fords, which could take only one wagon at a time, we were in the most dreadful situation. The horns on the oxen were prodding any animals - horse, oxen or mule - that was being driven or ridden through The Narrows. The rearmost wagons came relentlessly onward, for they couldn't see around the bends in the canyon. They didn't know we were nearly stopped because of the many tight crossings, several of them very deep. Added to our misery was the sickening smell of many dead cattle, and there was no place to drag their bodies away, like we did on other parts of the trail. [Adapted from James Evans see Copyright Notes at the End]

It could have been a picturesque place, but I remember it with a shudder of fear. It seemed as if we would never get out of there! I started thinking of Psalm 23, "Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me". Knowing that our Lord God is with us is all that gives me courage to keep going at times like this.

Artist James Wilkins sketch of the Narrows, 1849. From his book,
"An Artist on the Overland Trail". [See Footnote on copyright]

From Register Cliff to Independence Rock in two weeks.

Mary Ann sat near the campfire at Independence Rock, and reviewed her diary for the past month. She was amazed to realize they had come over twice as far between Register Cliff and Independence Rock, as it was between Scotts Bluff and Register Cliff. That clever little wooden odometer on the back wheel of their wagon would tell her the mileage they traveled, even if they didn't have Richard's journal on the Oregon Trail from his first two journeys.They had seen so many marvelous sights, but the greatest thing they had done was to ford all the creeks, streams and rivers from the start of their long trip on the Oregon Trail. Some were shallow and easy, others were deep and swift. One way or another, they got over all of them, and very few of them had bridges, or even ferries.

Independence Rock by William Henry Jackson, 1929,
Courtesy of J Willard Marriott Digital Library at the University of Utah

Next, they had ten days travel ahead of them to South Pass, the wide valley on the Continental Divide. From South Pass going west, all rivers emptied into the Pacific Ocean. 

Mary Ann was thankful for the Sioux moccasins she bought at Fort Laramie for herself and for Mary Jane. Her little niece toddled bravely along beside her for short stretches every day on the trail. When Mary Jane started to stumble, Mary Ann put her in the wagon for a nap. She felt like having a nap herself, but she couldn't add to the weight the oxen were pulling. She couldn't risk them failing from exhaustion before they reached their destination.

Camping tonight at Register Cliffs: Mary Ann's Diary

We left Fort Laramie behind this morning. Our wagon train drew lots for the third train to leave today, since we were too many wagon trains to all leave at once. The clever wooden odometer on our wagon wheel tells us we have come eleven miles from the fort to Register Cliff, where we will camp tonight. I am so glad for the monuments and mileposts of the trail, as it gives us all something to look forward to, and a feeling of accomplishment as we pass the mileposts one by one.

Register Cliff, Wyoming. Public Domain Image.
Click once to see large image, once more to return to blog.

My father took my brother Edward, and James and a few other men, to see the cliff up close. He didn't tell them beforehand that he was going to show them where he carved his name and date on his first trip to Oregon in 1850. Our family knew, of course, from his stories when he returned in 1851. I wonder if they will do any carving this afternoon. I hope James will carve our names and the year.

Register Cliff close-up snippet: Copyright Creative Commons
Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license. By Chris Light

 

We stayed so many days at Fort Laramie, that we will have to be back on the trail first thing tomorrow morning. Tonight there will be folk dancing after dinner, and singing before lights out. I love it when we all sing the old hymns together. My favorite is "Abide With Me". It only came out a few years ago, but everyone knows the words already.

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.

 

I am very young but I have learned that Jesus will help us in the little things if we but ask Him, and not only in the great concerns of life. It truly is like the new hymn we learned back at Fort Laramie - we do have such a friend in Jesus.

West of Fort Laramie: Back on the Trail

James was guiding the lead oxen, as usual, and Mary Ann walked beside him on the first morning after leaving Fort Laramie. They were talking about the tent meeting, when Mary Ann suddenly dashed over to the side of the trail, and bent over, sick to her stomach. James left the oxen to guide themselves and ran to her side.

"What is the matter Mary Ann?"

"Don't worry James, I don't have a fever or anything bad. It's the baby. My mother explained it to me, how in the first months women can be queasy after a meal."

"I never noticed my mother or sisters having that problem, dear."

"That is because you were in a civilized place where women had privacy for moments like this."

"Oh - am I in your way?"

"No," she smiled up at him,"it comforts me that you care. Just don't worry. Nancy said this would pass in a couple of months."

"Months!"

"Yes, months, James. It will be seven months more before the baby is born, and only the first part is so uncomfortable."

"Mary Ann, I want you to take a rest, and ride in the wagon this morning, you and Mary Jane. I'll watch after Mary Kyniston."

"I think I'd feel worse with the wagon rocking over ruts and rocks. Please, James. I'll be fine. I like walking - just don't hover over me."

"You know yourself best. You must take care for two now, though."

"This is our honeymoon adventure, James. Let's enjoy it." James laughed and walked back to the oxen, which were plodding along behind the Thompson's wagon as if he had never left them.

Gilmore Callison Preaching at Fort Laramie

Gilmore was still preaching from John chapter 3:
"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and Only son,
that everyone who believes in Him shall not perish,
but have eternal life.
For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world,
but to save the world through Him.
Whoever believes in Him is not condemned..."

The preacher was still talking, but James was already caught up, thinking of the words he heard: "...that everyone who believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." Was it this simple then? Just believe that God sent Jesus to be his Savior? Preacher Gilmore had much more to say. Now he was quoting from another book in the Bible, Romans, chapter 5:
"But God proves His love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

James was thinking hard. 'But I am only twenty-two years old. What have I done that is so bad? I don't feel as if I need saving.' The same hymn they sang in the beginning was starting up again, and Gilmore asked anyone who wanted to declare their need for Christ their Savior to come right now, up to the front. He would pray for them and give them a New Testament Bible. Something was tugging at James to get up, and go up there with others who were walking to the front of the tent. He resisted. This was just a desire to conform to what others were doing, James told himself. He would not be led about like a sheep. He kept singing, the last verse was next:

"Are we cold and unbelieving,

Cumbered with a load of care?

Here the Lord is still our refuge,

Take it to the Lord in prayer."

Thankful the service was done, he escorted Mary Ann back to their wagon. Richard and Edward went to check on their oxen. Nancy was walking on the other side of Mary Ann, asking if she was sleeping well at night.

"No, mama, it is so noisy here. People up all hours talking and laughing, I don't see how anyone can sleep."

"It will be better when we are back on the trail," replied Nancy. "There's just too many people here."

Fort Laramie by William Henry Jackson.
In the Public Domain, (Authors life plus 70 years).
Picture taken by Paul Hermans

Fort Laramie: A Tent Meeting

Their wagon train was still at Fort Laramie Saturday night, as the wheelwright was finishing up the last of the repairs for their wagons. Several wagon train leaders at the fort decided to stay over on Sunday, and then leave on Monday at staggered intervals, to keep from bunching up on the trail.

Richard heard that a preacher, who was on one of the wagon trains, would be holding a tent meeting on Sunday. He persuaded James and the rest of the husbands and fathers, to bring their families the next morning.

It was sunny on this Sunday morning, and the singing drew them to the big tent pitched outside the fort.  The preacher was teaching the congregation a new hymn of such sweetness that they all hurried to get seated and join in.  The lyrics seemed almost instinctive, fitting their experiences so well.

"What a Friend we Have in Jesus

All our sins and griefs to bear

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in Prayer."

The third verse was so right for this journey of theirs:

"Have we trials and temptations,

Is there trouble everywhere?

We should never be discouraged

Take it to the Lord in prayer."

The preacher was telling them how his friend, Joseph Scriven, had written this hymn to comfort his mother when his father died. Unable to get there for his father's funeral, he mailed his newly written hymn, with the musical notations, to his mother in Ireland. It was just two years ago, and not many had heard the new hymn yet. James sang it softly in his fine baritone voice, and Mary Ann's alto voice harmonized with him.

"Folks, my name is Gilmore Callison", said the preacher in a familiar Kentucky drawl. "The text for this morning is in the book of John, chapter 3. verse 3: Jesus replied, Truly, truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again."

James sat up straight and took a deep a breath. This must be it - the secret he was looking for.

to be continued

 

Fort Laramie on the Oregon Trail: Shoes for Oxen, Wheels for Wagons

"I'll be gone this morning with the oxen, Mary Ann. It's our turn at the blacksmith's shop. He's charging a fair price for the oxen - one dollar per hoof, same as for the horses, even though he has to put on two separate plates, one for each half of the split hoof on the oxen. I'm having the four oxen on the spare team shod also. They aren't pulling much of the time, but they will have the same distance to go and they need to be ready to replace our best team if necessary."

"Thirty-two dollars sounds like a lot of money, James."

Ox shoe for one half of the cloven hoof, by Justlettersandnumbers
Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication

"Don't worry, Mary Ann. We planned for these expenses. Our wagon and wheels don't need repair, so it is less than is set aside. Would you like to see if there is a new sunbonnet, or perhaps moccasins, that you'd like to buy?"

"Thank you James, I'll look for moccasins. My shoes are so worn already. Is there anything you need from the store here?"

Moccasins by Santee Sioux -
maybe similar to the pair Mary Ann purchased

"I'm getting another pair of boots. We have over fourteen hundred miles left to go, and I didn't bring an extra pair when we left home. At least the leather goods here are a reasonable price."

"I'm going to buy moccasins for Mary Jane too. She will be walking everywhere before we get to Oregon. I wish Eliza could see her now. She'd be so proud of her."

"I know you miss your sister, Mary Ann. I wish she could be here too. We'll just have to love Mary Jane double - once for us, her aunt and uncle, and twice for her mother being gone."