Are we there yet?

On the trail again. . .

Do you suppose the children of the early pioneers questioned along the way "Are we there yet?" Every five minutes a repeat of the refrain, "Are we there yet?" An ever nagging, whiny "Are we there yet?",  "Are we there yet?",
"Are we there yet?"

via Google Images

Needless to say, the mode of travel was not by air conditioned automobile, camper or RV. Instead, it was by crude wagon, horseback or on foot. A grueling 2000-mile journey across western plains and mountainous trails would last five months. Conditions were harsh plagued with accidents, illness, raging river crossings, mud, dust, monotony, and often terror. In spite of unimaginable, unforeseen circumstances, they trekked onward ... onward toward a dream, hope of better times in a land to the west. 

via Google Images

The shadow of fear loomed endlessly regarding the possibility of encountering native Indians who had been reported as being savages. Can you imagine traveling into a territory where it was known for men to be killed and scalped while women were taken prisoner? That, of course, would indicate the women witnessed the brutal slaying of their husbands. While many of the women were eventually saved, it was reported they went insane and lived only a short time after being rescued from captivity. They had nothing left, their husbands were dead, more than likely the children too, wagons were burned and all possessions taken from them. They were stripped of everything in life they had ever known or owned.

Pathways of Pioneers: Massacre Rocks

Had it not been for the determination and perseverance of these early pioneers the west would not have been won. Winning, however, came at a high price for both the white man and the Native American Indians who, by the way, were not all savages. But, that is another story. . .

So, back to our initial question: "Are we there yet?" I do fear had one asked that question he or she would not have been brave enough or in the condition to ask it again! What do you think?
 

Long dresses, trousers with jackets, hot sultry weather, & tumbleweed were commonalities along the trail.

Hardy Pioneers

After taming the eastern seaboard, crossing the Western Frontier
proved to be just as treacherous as crossing the Atlantic.
This, however, did not impede the push westward
as hope, faith, and courage continued to prevail.

By crude wagon they traveled

With limited communications

Across the Mississippi

Westward to the Appalachians

Walking beside the wagons

Eased the bumpy trails

But not the loudly clanging

Utensils and pails

 

Fetching water from a stream

Collecting dried buffalo chips

Shaking out dusty blankets

Were never regarded as quips

Days were long and grueling

Under the sweltering sun

Dusk welcomed time to rest

Once chores were finally done

Gathering around the campfire

With smiles and laughter perchance

Lessened the pains of their labors

As they enjoyed song and dance

With new land in sight

After months on the trail

Labors did not end

For bodies thin and frail

Shelters needed building

Fields hoed then plowed

Candles dipped for lighting

To unveil the shroud

 

Without modern tools

Hands aching to the bone

Time for rejoicing

In a place to call home

 

Sod shanties, crude cabins

Canvas stretched across dirt floors

Muslin on the ceilings

Kept grime from falling indoors

 
But, in spite of it all
Smiles of joy would beam
It was a place called home
A part of their dream

©2013 Awakenings
Sharla Lee Shults