A Brief History Lesson 101

"At their marriage they headed westward as did all adventurous spirits and homeseekers of that time. They crossed the northern part of Missouri with ox team and covered wagon."

-my great grandfather Benjamin Mears speaking of his parents, Harrison Cheaton Mears and Mary Cathern Price. From his memoir My Oklahoma.

SETTING OUT Dave and I chose a route most conducive to our destinations, it just happens a good portion of that planning followed a course that had been used for almost 200 years. Sure towns have popped up and asphalt laid, but as we drive through valleys, over mountains, and along side rivers, it occurs to me how much this part of the country hasn't changed. The West has always been rugged and raw, ranches and homesteads, wide expanses both above and below. It is Absolutely Beautiful!
The route we used was discovered in 1812 by a team of furriers returning East from Astoria, Oregon. Sadly war broke out that same year and all thoughts of travel along the Snake, Bear & Green Rivers, via South Pass to the Platte River was forgotten. Twenty years later a young captain in the US Army took a leave of absence from his frontier post, of plains and Indian country, to explore the western outback. Captain Benjamin Bonneville, you may recognize the last name... hint: it's a dam in Oregon, believed the Continental Divide coub be safely crossed using wagons to reach the Columbia River. Following a similar route as the fur traders, only in reverse, Bonneville successfully reached the Columbia River with wagons in toe opening up new possibilities for adventurers and settlers. Familiar with this region out of work fur trappers and mountain men now hired themselves out as trail guides, escorting emigrants West as early as 1836. Men such as Kit Carson and Jim Bridger.
At first only a few families chanced the crossing, but by the mid 1840's the "Great Migration" was on as thousands of steadfast missionaries, settlers, gold hounds, and explorers followed their dreams West into Oregon, California, and Utah. It wasn't until the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad, in 1896, that transportation West changed. The wagon trains slowed to a trickle as more travelers favored the "Iron Horse" to convey them to their western destinations.

BOTH US30 and Interstate 80 are descendants of the dusty Oregon-California Trail, often laying directly on or near the original wagon ruts. Passing the "Point of No Return" Dave and I rolled into Soda Springs Idaho elated the repairs on Gutless Wonder had held. Soda Springs had been part of a shortcut off the main route to Fort Hall, now located a little ways out of Pocetello Idaho. The springs were something of a phenomenon to the emigrants having never seen geysers, gushing water over 150 feet in the air or bubbling pools of effervescent water popping CO2. It was said that travelers added sugar to the water making frontier soda pop. The only "frontier soda" Dave and I picked up was the kind we found at the local grocery store when we stopped for supper supplies.

Idaho's historic byways are clearly marked on their state road map. Little dotted lines, broken by X's and O's and the occasional dash indicate the variety of routes taken through what was once considered Oregon Territory. Despite our earlier setbacks I was excited we'd chosen to follow the Bear River Valley route eastward. Running between Soda Springs and the Wyoming border everything about this area is seeped in history, from the roadside "points of interest" to ranches, farms and small communities that freckle this underpopulated country representing the true rural West of America.

It is easy to imaagine ourselves as young settlers, a farm wagon loaded with our small cache of belongings plodding along the well worn dusty trail. To the right Bear River sparkling and welcoming in the afternoon sun, surrounded by Quaking Aspen and vinilla scented Ponderosa Pine. All around open fields lush with wild grasses of Blue, Indian, and Rye dance in the soft summer breeze, while Monkshood, Columbine, and Larkspur dot the hillsides. Yellow spears of Verbascum thapsus, mixed with pinks and blues of Epilabium angutifolium, and Linm usitatissimum (Mullen, Fireweed and Flax) become roadside indicators, marking the passage of wooden wheels and later well traveled byways. To be a bird looking down across the mountains onto the patch-worked land would be a glorious thing. once again I reflected why emigrants continued West. Everything they needed was here, fresh water, grazing land, and timber. By this time these travelers had already walked over 1000 miles, why not stop? Would we given the choice?

CROSSING THE valley was easy for Gutless, we left the steep climb behind us and now the road had become relatively level. It is along this tributary that Dave and I discover Clover Creek, outside Georgetown. Here travelers watered themselves and their cattle, gathered plants for both healing and seasoning and rested their tired bones. For us we just pulled a cold a cold water bottle from the cooler and continued along our way. It is not far from Clover Creek that we pass a wooden plaque with "Smith Trading Post" carved into its header. Established in 1848 by former mountain man Thomas L. "Pegleg" Smith the historical marker points to the area where the short lived rustic outpost possibly stood. Built beside the river shaded by Cottonwoods, Alders, and Willows this would have been prime real estate for an ambitious business man. Drawing closer to the Wyoming border the grade begins to increase and the river pulls away from the highway. Dave points out a huge prominent hill seen silhouetted against a broad blue of sky. It is later we learn this ridge was a wagon's nightmare. Big Hill was journaled to be one of the steepest and longest hurdles the slow moving oxen had encountered after leaving Missouri.

Sometime after 3:30 pm we crossed into Wyoming, finally out of Idaho and closer to Colorado. The more I read and experience the westward movement I realize the motivation and spirit of the adventure still drives the passion to be off exploring and discovering today. The early settlers wanted a better life for themselves and their families, to begin fresh in new territories where opportunities were for the taking and not for the faint of heart. These were people willing to weigh their faith, determination and hard work against countless dangers, uncertainties and even their lives. I am proud to have their blood run through my veins.

Wishing you all well
D & V and Sackett too.