{No Turning Back-part XXV}
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| Summit Meadows |
October 1st, 1847
Today we had to cross the Deschutes River and climb a hill right after. The hill was muddy from the wagons coming wet out of the river, and one wagon slid and broke the ropes, crashed down the hill, and fell into the river. It's pieces just floated downriver, and we couldn't do nothing about it. The family that owned it is walking the rest of the way.
October 3rd, 1847
Yesterday we came to the Dalles and started down the Barlow Toll Road. It snowed kinda heavy, and the Columbia was swelled. Pa said he didn't want to risk it, and since the road was built we might as well take it. If we'd come a year earlier, we'd have no choice but to build a raft and float it down the Columbia. Pa says he's seen many men die on it that way.
October 4th, 1847 Summit Meadows
We came today to what they call Devil's Half-Acre. This begins a real steep climb up the Cascades. The trail was a little slippery from melting snow. Five oxen died today on the climb. We left two more wagons behind, because there were no more oxen to pull.
Viola and Carl have given up their wagon to a family with six young'uns. They kept a few personal things and packed them in a back-pack of sorts. Viola keeps Westly warm at night by wrapping him in a thick quilt and having him sleep between her and Carl.
We passed over the Cascades today and are camped in Summit Meadows. I don't know where he found it, but tonight Clint brought me a small wildflower. I pressed it in these pages.
October 5th, 1847
A baby girl was born in the middle of the night. She seems healthy enough. Her parents are calling her Cascadia Ann.
Came down Laurel Hill today. Nothing serious besides Miriam skidding down a bit. She cut her hands and legs trying to stop. I rubbed some salve on them.
We're so near the end of the trail I can feel it. It seems almost sad, though. We have to go back to living in a house, out of the wilderness.We can't spend our nights under the stars anymore.
October 7th, 1847 Willamette Valley
We had to pay to cross the Sandy River Toll Bridge. It cost a whole fifty cents per wagon. We've reached the Willamette Valley. Pa's says we'll be in Oregon City before nightfall tomorrow.
I'm 'bout run out of pages in this journal already.
Today we had to cross the Deschutes River and climb a hill right after. The hill was muddy from the wagons coming wet out of the river, and one wagon slid and broke the ropes, crashed down the hill, and fell into the river. It's pieces just floated downriver, and we couldn't do nothing about it. The family that owned it is walking the rest of the way.
October 3rd, 1847
Yesterday we came to the Dalles and started down the Barlow Toll Road. It snowed kinda heavy, and the Columbia was swelled. Pa said he didn't want to risk it, and since the road was built we might as well take it. If we'd come a year earlier, we'd have no choice but to build a raft and float it down the Columbia. Pa says he's seen many men die on it that way.
October 4th, 1847 Summit Meadows
We came today to what they call Devil's Half-Acre. This begins a real steep climb up the Cascades. The trail was a little slippery from melting snow. Five oxen died today on the climb. We left two more wagons behind, because there were no more oxen to pull.
Viola and Carl have given up their wagon to a family with six young'uns. They kept a few personal things and packed them in a back-pack of sorts. Viola keeps Westly warm at night by wrapping him in a thick quilt and having him sleep between her and Carl.
We passed over the Cascades today and are camped in Summit Meadows. I don't know where he found it, but tonight Clint brought me a small wildflower. I pressed it in these pages.
October 5th, 1847
A baby girl was born in the middle of the night. She seems healthy enough. Her parents are calling her Cascadia Ann.
Came down Laurel Hill today. Nothing serious besides Miriam skidding down a bit. She cut her hands and legs trying to stop. I rubbed some salve on them.
We're so near the end of the trail I can feel it. It seems almost sad, though. We have to go back to living in a house, out of the wilderness.We can't spend our nights under the stars anymore.
October 7th, 1847 Willamette Valley
We had to pay to cross the Sandy River Toll Bridge. It cost a whole fifty cents per wagon. We've reached the Willamette Valley. Pa's says we'll be in Oregon City before nightfall tomorrow.
I'm 'bout run out of pages in this journal already.
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