The Oregon Trail part two:  From Chimney Rock

 

Based on http://www.virtualapple.org/oregontraildisk.html

 

A Story by Thelma Mary Caroline

 

 

 

The only thing to really say about Chimney Rock was that it looked like a chimney.  Perhaps it was just my 21st century-ness, but I was not impressed with a rock that kind of looked like it was giving the middle finger.

 

We rested there a couple of days.  Every evening, we sat around the fire talking.  Mostly, the brothers talked about their childhood, and the woman talked about theirs.  Memories of Christmases, plauges, diseases.  I spoke up as little as possible.  It was better to have a silent tounge than to have to keep a story straight.  After all, most of the Christmases I had spent in the far future.  I would die before I was born.

 

And who wanted to see a grave stone that read: 

 

Born 1986 in Olympia, Washington

Died 1848 on the Oregon Trail

 

I supposed I could carve something funny that predicted the future on the rock.  I could probably make money that way.  Except I didn't really know anything about the late 1800's.

 

We leave the rock June 10, 1848.  Zeke found out from a traveller that it is 86 miles to Fort Laramie.  But we still have a long ways to go until Oregon.

 

Nothing eventful happenes on the the five days it takes to get there.  Fort Laramie looks like a castle.  Both white men and Indian men ride horses around outside.  And they have tall white creatures with long ears that I can only assume are guard dogs.

 

We consider buying some food, but decide to hunt our own.  If only we can get a buffalo or something.  So we leave Fort Laramie, empty handed, but in fairly good spirits.

 

John tells me not to go after the small game when hunting.  It's not worth it.  I missed a deer that ran right in front of me because I couldn't find the trigger, and accidently shot a buffalo instead.

 

A buffalo!  Nine hunderd and ninty nine pounds of meat!  But we can only care 100 pounds back to our wagon.  It would probably all spoil before we could eat it, anyway.

 

It takes us seven days to eat it all, and I got out hunting again with the men.  I shot a deer without even trying.  65 more pounds of food. 

 

On the thirtith, Zeke gets the measles.  He must have contracted it at the fort, we decide.  But we're only a few days out from Independace Rock (I can see it in the distance), so we decide we'll rest there.

 

I go out and shoot a buffalo.  It wouldn't do for us to starve to death while caring for him.

 

Somehow, Zeke in his deleria gets lost.  It takes us three days to find him.  But we never gave up hope.  We bring him back and decide we should rest now, even though we'll reach the rock tomorrow.  We rest a total of five days.

 

I hate resting.  There's not much to do.  The others talk, but most conversations I steer away from.  I hunt a bunch instead.  And even though Zeke told me not to try for small game, I shoot a bunch of rabbits anyway.  And they are delious.

 

We reach Independace Rock on July 14, 1848.  It's not an amazing rock.  I'm not ever impressed with the milestones the other pioneers are.  Names are carved into it.  Charlie, Johnson, De Smet.  I wonder if De Smet is a person?  Is he going West to form the town of De Smet from the Little House books?   It sends shivers down my spine.  The past is now my future. 

 

Somehow, Anna becomes lost.  It takes two days to find her.  Zeke becomes distraught.  He doesn't remember being lost when he was sick, but if something we're to happen to his wife ... But all's well that ends well.  That's what he says.

 

We reach South Pass on the 26th of July.  I'm not sure what's so importaint about it.  But then I find out the trail divides at that point.  There's two trails, one to Green River crossing and one to Fort Bridger.  I suppose the difference is whether you need to go to a fort or not.  And I say we don't, I can hunt all the food we need, and we don't need any other supplies.  But still, we consult the map.

 

We decide to head towards the Green River crossing, fifty seven miles away.

 

Then a crisis happens.  We run out of food, compleatly, without hardly noticing.  And for the first time, I hunt bear, and shoot two. 

 

On August 4th, we reach the river.  It is so hot, but the river is still wide.  In fact, on one side there is a huge cliff.  I don't know how we're going to go around.  We decide to take the ferry across for five dollars.  I'm afraid that if we try to chaulk the wagon, it will tip over.

 

On the fifteenth, Zeke gets Typhoid, and we are plauged by very little water. 

 

The little water, bad water, very little grass. 

 

But somehow we reach Soda Springs, and every one plays in the water.  The date is August 22, 1848.  We rest for a while, hoping it will help Zeke (and the conditions around us) improve.

 

Again, the food runs out.  Hunting is tough, the animals few and far between.  Our health suffers.  I vow to hunt until we have 800 pounds of food, but there's hardly anything to shoot.

 

On September 17th, we reach Fort Hall.  We consider buying food.  But we only buy a wagon wheel to replace one that we lost.  There's only twenty five dollars left.

 

Almost every day, I hunt.  Some days are sucessful, but most days not.  Still, we seem to all be in good health.  Maybe it's the fresh prarie air.

 

For many days, there's not enough grass for the oxen.  But we have to press on.  We can't wait around hoping.

 

We caulk the wagon for the Snake River Crossing.  I half expect to die, just taking the chance of going across.  It's the widest river I can remember.

 

Indians end up helping us find food, but not nearly enough.  So I try and try and try to hunt something good.

 

Finally, finally I get a bear.  We can only get one hundred pounds, but at least it will last us a couple of days.

 

One oxen dies, and another is injured.  I doubt we'll have enough money to buy new ones.  Then the wagon tounge breaks, but I, with my knowledge of future ways of doing things, am able to repair it. 

 

We reach Fort Boise Novemeber 2.   But we don't have enough money for much, so we must press on.  Maybe we're almost there.  Isn't Boise in Idaho?

 

It turns cold.  It's a good thing we didn't leave later.  I doubted we'd make it as it was. 

 

On the 14th, there was a severe blizzard, and we had to stop.  Our health was poor, and I didn't think we could hold out much longer.  On the 18th, there was another blizzard.  And another on the 20th.  And yet another on the 26th.  I fear it won't end.  December 1st brings yet another blizzard.  We're going to die in the mountains.

 

Our collective health is undoubtidly very poor.  And Sarah had somehow contracted the measales.  The same day Zeke gets choleria.  And John has a fever. 

 

December 4th, Zeke dies.  No one is suprised.  It is too cold to have any real feelings. 

 

On the 6th, there is another blizzard.  The snow causes us to loose 8 days.  And Sarah dies, perhaps because of Zeke.

 

John got the measles next, no doubt from Sarah.  I know for sure now that none of us will make it to Oregon.

 

The wagon tounge breaks again, but I'm able to repair it.

 

John dies on the 23rd.

 

On Christmas, there is another snow storm.  On December 30th, we reach the Blue Mountains, Sarah and I.  But we never make it much further.

 

Though we huddle together for warmth, we still freeze to death.

 

 

 

I look around, confused.  Am I in heaven?

 

G A M E  O V E R flashed in front of me.

 

I look around.  It's two thousand seven.  Did I travel in time again?  Was dying the key to coming back to the future?

 

But slowly it comes back to me.  I was playing the Oregon Trail on the computer.  I just got a little over involved is all.  A little over imaginitive.

 

Here I am, safe and sound.

 

But it was fun, really, trying to survive.

 

P L A Y  A G A I N ?

 

YES.