Approaching the Rockies

After about eight weeks on the trail, or three and a half days in our case, the emigrants were about to leave the easy bit behind.  They had sauntered by the Big Blue, the Little Blue, and the Platte.  There was abundant water and usually feed for the animals.  But this was about to end.  The country grew rougher and the scenery more spectacular as they rumbled past Chimney Rock and Scotts Bluff.  As they crossed into what would become Wyoming, the rubber was about to hit the road--although rubber hadn't yet been invented, but you get the idea.  One of the first of the milestones that would tell them that they were in a new phase of their journey was Fort Laramie, and that was our first stop too.

We didn't quite see it like this

Part of what we saw was this.  The old barracks have been re-built and the Indians are gone

When Joe B stopped by in 1841, the fort was a simpler privately run affair, more like the picture at the top.  By the time he made his last crossing 13 years later, buildings like the one below were beginning to be built by the new owners, the US government, though life was very colorful, as described by one visitor, 'We were visited by about two hundred Cheyennes and Sioux, who danced a little, stole a little, eat a great deal, and finally went their way rejoicing.' 



The next stop after Ft. Laramie was about 10 miles up the North Platte, where many of the emigrants stole away from their chores for a few minutes to carve their names in the soft stone face of Register Cliff, for posterity and for friends who might be following behind, letting them know they were still alive. 

Joe B, is that you?

 They were still in pleasant country, and some of the emigrants even took some time to visit another natural wonder, even though it was about a mile from the trail, the natural stone bridge spanning a nearby creek.

There were a number of hard miles to be crossed before the emigrants could tick off another marker.  It was Independence Rock, first named by trappers because they camped near it on July 4.  In the following years, if emigrants made it there by Independence Day they celebrated by carving their names in the rock, reading the Declaration of Independence and having a few drinks.  So many did this that they began running out of space.  One emigrant in 1852 complained, 'Came to independence rock about ten o'clock this morning I presume there are a million of names wrote on this rock'.  

The wagons are on the site of today's visitor center, waiting for it to open

The emigrants could enjoy the Sweetwater River for the next few days, but they were now venturing on the way to South Pass and the country was turning into something that was unlike anything they had seen before.

We enjoyed a walk around Independence Rock, until we got to the back side and a squall hit--then we got a little taste of pioneer 'suck it up' medicine--and some damp clothing in the bargain.

As we stopped for our umpteenth roadside information board, I was struck by the number of mentions received by the Pony Express--so here's a little rant:  About the Pony Express--they get a lot of attention, some might say an inordinate amount of attention, in this part of the world.  Their entrepreneurial effort to deliver express mail to California from St. Joseph Missouri in ten days by using young men riding in relays on good horses as fast as they could is the very stuff of cowboy adventure.  Very romantic and colorful, but it only lasted from  April 3, 1860 – October 24, 1861, before going out of business with the arrival of the transcontinental  telegraph in 1861.  Yet on a plenitude of wayside plaques its ephemeral existence is celebrated from St. Joseph to Sacramento.  Without wanting to be too curmudgeonly, let me put this into context.  'The Pony' lasted about 18 months on the trail between the Missouri River and Sacramento.  Joe B Chiles, in seven crossings of approximately four months each, spent 28 months on the trail betwen Independence Mo. and California.  So take that, Pony Express.  He wasn't as romantic, but Joe B knew how to walk and navigate and negotiate with the people he met on the trail.  And where are his wayside plaques?