Today I have been reminising about the pioneer trek and all that has happened since then that I believe is related to the fact that I agreed to go. I found the photo gallery that someone created and spent an hour (at least) browsing through the 2600 photos taken of those 3 1/2 long days.

This is Curtis with his family. He was afraid to go because he thought he was going to be placed with "stupid people," but he fell in love with his family and they have had several parties since the trek. :)


This is the amazing Mac trek Fam. We seriously had a super great bunch of kids in our family. They were fun, hard workers, didn't complain, and personlaities all seemed to fit together perfectly! Our group had all of the best, most innovative ideas. Leaders...

There were some fun times. They gave us a whole afternoon to play pioneer games, rest, square dance, and just enjoy simplicity and nature. Here is Curtis playing checkers. They also had stilts, stick pulling, stickball, archery, and a trading post.

The Mac Fam men, hard at work.

Arielle only came for half of the trek, but she was "lucky enough" to experience the silent women's pull...It was soooo hard!

Here I am, trying to get that dang handcart up the steepest part of the whole trek during the women's pull. I must have pulled the best faces, because they put several lovely headshots of me looking like I was in pain on the photo gallery. I am choosing not to post them here... :)

The Mac Fam women, bringing up the rear. Our girls were really strong and had a great rhythm.

Curtis makes a preppy pioneer.

Arielle with her family...

Quite a group!

I just think this is a great shot of the Mac Boys!

This was the greatest site ever!!!

The trek is just one of the many things that I said I would never do that I have actually found myself doing in 2011. I believe that I am being prepared for something...I'm not sure what...but I am thankful that I have had to turn to my inner strength and to the power of God so that I can be ready for whatever is in store.

It is interesting to me that tonight, as I was pondering this blog post, I looked on facebook to see that my sister, Dani, had posted a true pioneer handcart story that she found http://lds.org/ensign/1972/10/an-evening-of-historical-vignettes?lang=eng&cid=facebook-shared that included one of my ancestors, Elizabeth Xavier Tait. She was part of the Willie Handcart company that endured so much:

I am Elizabeth Xavier Tait. I was born in Bombay, India, in the year 1833, raised in wealth and aristocracy. I was educated in the best schools in India, graduated from college at age 14. My family in India was displeased with my joining the Church. They begged me to forsake my husband, William, and my church and remain with them in India. But after my young son died suddenly of cholera, I knew I must not heed the pleading of my parents and friends. My husband left for Zion before I did; I was to follow after because my health was too frail to allow me to go with him at that time. At my departure, I was disinherited by my family. It was while traveling to England that I faced one of my hardest trials. My baby girl, the last of my children, took sick and died while I stood helpless. After I arrived in America, I found myself a member of the fourth, or Willie, handcart company.

Many of the carts were tastefully painted to suit the fancy of the owners, while here and there appeared inscriptions such as “Truth Will Prevail,” “Zion’s Express,” “Blessings Follow Sacrifice,” and “Merry Mormons.” Snatches of the marching song “Some Must Push and Some Must Pull” served to lighten the monotony of the daily routine.

Fall came early with a frosty night. Aspen groves turned yellow on the mountain slopes, and crimson patches of oak held forebodings of approaching winter. Far down the plains of Wyoming the Martin company moved hopefully up the Platte.

The daily rations were cut again with a prayer that help would come on the morrow. But the morrow, instead, brought death—first one, then another, and another. Life went out as smoothly as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil is gone.

(The men's) shoes were so worn that they finally fell from their feet, and they bound them up with pieces of gunnysacking and strips of canvas and cloth. In spite of this, their feet were cracking and sore and bleeding so badly that tracks of blood were left on the snowy trails.

Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sunburnt cheeks, and little children fairly danced with gladness.

WILLIAM TAIT:
I knew Elizabeth was in the company, and as the time approached for the appointed arrival of my wife, I grew both rejoiceful and anxious at the thought of our reunion. My anxiety mounted to near panic as the winter of that year came unseasonably early and severe. I volunteered as a member of the rescue company to meet my beloved wife. I cannot tell you of the fear and helplessness I felt while en route. Would we get there in time? Would she be alive? By October 31, 250 teams had been sent to relieve the sufferers. On October 20, the first of our relief wagons came into sight of the Willie company.

This is an awesome story, and it seems much more real knowing that it was one of my direct ancestors AND because I sort of understand in a small way what the experience was like. I guess it is time to storybook Elizabeth Xavier and William Tait's story...