The Historic Oregon Trail
A Glimpse of Early RV Life
By BRENDA-LEE THOMPSON
www.writeslice.com
My feet are killing me. T e low sage branches have ripped the hem of my calico dress, and my face is gritty with dust and sweat. Worst of all, aſt er yesterday’s funeral, I can’t stop thinking about who we will bury next along the trail. I thought the life I leſt a month ago in Missouri was hard - but this feels too much to bear. T e hours of walking every day are grueling and I’m starting to feel sorry that I ever leſt home. When we started this journey, I set out with a picture in my mind of the promised free farmland. T is picture was of a lush green valley, but as the weeks pass, the colours are fading. Today I’ve been carrying one of the small children who couldn’t keep up with our walking pace. Our horseback guide just fell back to tell us that we have a high pass to cross before we can stop to set up camp tonight. . . It’s here in my dream that I snore myself awake from my nap. I am relieved to
fi nd that it is not the year 1850 and I am not walking the Oregon Trail. Rather, it is October 2010 and I am driving the Oregon Trail. My husband, Adrian, and I leſt Canada a few days ago and are heading south with our RV for the winter. We’ve just passed through Pendleton, Oregon headed for Jackpot, Nevada on Route 84. With Arizona as our destination this year, our travels take us through Oregon, Idaho
and Nevada. Out of curiosity, we fi nd ourselves stopping at several of the roadside rest areas to read the Oregon Trail information posted at the monument sites. T e monuments are open-air structures with displays including stories, pictures
and journal excerpts from people who trekked this way in search of a better life. I found their accounts very touching. Aſt er visiting a monument, and as Adrian and I returned to our vehicle to continue our travels, we took these people and their accounts with us as our companions. We oſt en drove in silence as we thought about
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what we had just read, about how this leg of our RV journey is very diff erent than these travelers of long
ago...the original RVers. In a small way our motivation to travel
is similar to the pioneers in that we are both escaping harsh winters; however we are escaping for recreation and they, out of necessity, were escaping for the sake of life and prosperity. Along the road beside us roll endless foothills with gnarly sage scrub as far as the eye can see. I tried to imagine what my travels would have been like if I had been part of this historical caravan. Instead of air-conditioned comfort,
I would ride in a wagon with nothing between me and the elements but a canvas cover. T at is, of course, if I were lucky enough to ride in the wagon. T e end of my travel day would have entailed gathering wood for a fi re, opening trunks and barrels to procure ingredients for dinner, and fi nding a source of water so that we could boil coff ee and do the dishes. T e ultimate fi nish to the evening would be to sleep on the ground with my well-worn and dusty blanket. T is is a far cry from now, when I will end the travel day with the convenience of a restaurant meal and all the comforts needed for a good night’s sleep. Because of the need for water and
fi rewood, the route for the pioneers followed the main rivers and streams along the way. T ose brave souls striking out would have leſt home in Missouri (maz-urrah, as the locals would say) in the spring, around April or May, as soon as the trail would be dry from the spring runoff and the grass was starting to grow to fuel the animals. T ose making the trek in one season would spend four to six months covering the 2,000 miles from home to the promise of free farmland in the Willamette Valley. T e perils of their journey speak to us
in the names of certain areas of the trail, such as Poverty Flat Road and Dead Man Pass. T e trek was fraught with dangers, including risk of exhaustion, hunger, native Indian attacks and accidents, such as drowning in the attempt to cross rivers. However the worst threat, which claimed the most lives, was death by disease. Many, many families arrived at their destination short a husband,
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