commitment, sacrifice and faith

as sarah steed returned to her tent, her frost bitten feet barely moving the frozen snow, she shuffled forward, her little hands wrapped in canvas, she could no longer feel the small sticks and piece of sagebrush she had been able to gather for what surely would be her last night on earth.

Many of Sarah's companions had left england with such high hopes, their boat had been delayed in Liverpool as supplies were hard to gather, rough seas had slowed their voyage another week, arriving in Boston's harbor on June 30th. They hurried to the train station to catch the next train to Iowa, there they would meet up with other saints who had answered the a Prophet's call to gather in the Rocky Mountains.

sarah's family had heard of a new gospel of Jesus Christ, one that professed to have a modern prophet who had talked to God the Father and his Son, he translated a golden record of ancient scripture, the Book of Mormon... another testament of Jesus Christ. Her mother and father had read the book, had felt the conversion power of the Holy Ghost and desired for their family to live among the saints.

They were a poor family, not able to afford all the provisions and transportation costs, but had prayed and determined they could save enough to send one child each year, geoff her brother went last year and now it was sarah's turn. Mother and father would come next year and oh what a reunion that would be.

Arriving in Florence the middle of August, she had expected to see a town busy making wagons, loading supplies and alive with anticipation of the journey west. To her surprise, the town seemed deserted, many of the 500 log cabins empty, the sod huts which had once housed so many, barely visible having been turned into a corn field soon after the vanguard company had left in mid april.

there was a great amount of discussion about this set of emigrants and missionaries who had just arrived expecting to join one of the companies of mormon pioneers in their trek west. It was much too late to send anyone in late August they argued, you need to be to gone by July 4th, at the absolute latest, to have any chance of arriving in the valley before the snows came.

that night they had a meeting. a captain Willie and captain Martin seemed to be in charge, they were saying they could get them through, but would have to leave soon. All in attendance were anxious for the final vote to be taken when a Br. Savage, one of the missionaries returning from england spoke, he said they should wait, that yes, God would watch over them, but that God expected them to use good judgment... winters can be harsh across the plains, provisions were few and handcarts hand been made out of green timber, and they would be lucky if the carts would be able to hold up to the rigors of the journey. He suggested they wait through the winter and leave in the spring when conditions and provisions would be more favorable.

Captain Martin wanted a vote, each hand went up in favor of leaving now. God would provide, they had responded to the call of a prophet and were anxious to be numbered with God's saints, build his temple and receive his blessings. they would go, all would be well. Surprising, Br. Savage didn't hang his head, he said he would go, share in their labors, and die with them if necessary.. if that was the vote of the people. It was.

sarah was assigned to a Smith family, each handcart was to provide for 5 people, they were a sweet young family of 4, they were happy to receive her and said she could help by caring for their two small children, and gather wood for the fire at days end. this was great, sarah was lonesome for her family back in England and now she had a family here in America. Sarah had heard they were relatives of Joseph's brother Hyrum, they seemed like nice people and she looked forward to getting to know them better and taking care of their children as they journeyed across the plains.



They left on August 25th, nearly two months later than was recommended. with a prayer for an indian summer and a shout hurrah they were off.

All seemed to go well as they traveled across. the trail was well marked, worn and dry. they did experience equipment problems as the hastily thrown together handcarts, struggled over the rough terrain. Many needed repair along the way, a few of the 500+ who started with the martin company turned back, or would stop in settlements along the way, those going ahead would transfer their belongings to the better carts leaving the worst behind.

Each passenger was allowed 17lbs of personal belongings, most brought a few books, their bibles and Book of Mormon, a few small pieces of furniture or glassware, but mostly they brought clothing, blankets and supplies. Each was given a 100 lb bag of flour to haul in their cart. the company brought milk cows, a few chickens for eggs, and steers to slaughter along the way. they started on reduced rations the first week out, and then really had to cut back when a buffalo stampede came through and many of the oxen, used to pull the tent and supply wagons escaped. Men became weak as they shared much of their small ration with their families, pulling a 500 lb handcart is tough work, all able hands were required no one rested. Days were long and hard. Some nights they were too tired even to cook, choosing sleep over what little nurishment they might receive.

Real trouble began on Oct 19. The weather had been getting colder each day, the company was already worn out and had little clothing to keep themselves warm. Bitter winds cut to the bone and when an early blizzard greeted them the morning of the 19th, despair and discouragement could be felt within the entire camp. they had just crossed the last crossing of the north platt... every step became more difficult, many of the men cried out they couldn't take another step, but they did. setting their sights on the tree, stump or rock ahead, they would press foreward. they somehow made it to New Red Bluffs, no one knew how, some said they saw angels helping to push the wagons along... no matter, the weather had gotten worse and they were now snowbound. They could not move another inch, it was decided they would wait here for rescue or death, either being a welcome sight.

Six days later messengers from a small relief company finally arrived and convinced them to keep moving forward or they should perish. Their provisions were few, they shared what they had... but for most of the worn discouraged company, these messengers brought hope. Brigham would not let them parish, the Utah boys were coming with help.

a few relief wagons met them two days later, they had used up most of the provisions just getting to the company, but again they brought hope and to those struggling the most a ride!!

Sara and her newly adopted family made it past Devil's Gate, one of the many landmarks crossing the plains. whether you were with the Oregon, California or Mormon companies each had to pass by this landmark to know you were on the right trail. it was a welcome sight.

Piercing winds again forced them to seek shelter at sweetwater rocks. Continuing storms locked them down in their well worn tents, meger rations and limited clothing. the Utah boys had built fires and removed most the weight from their handcarts, storing them in a bunkhouse near where the camped. the bitter cold force the company back into a cove where rock mountains on both sides helped shelter the wind and block out some of the cold. there they stayed for 5 nights and 4 days.

when the weather finally broke on Nov 12, the company moved on, 2/3rds of the original company riding on wagons, the others walked until the final rescue teams arrived then all would ride. as they looked back on what now is called Martin's Cove, 56 of their number were buried having died during the 5 days they were there, 100's more if Brigham hadn't sent out the Utah boys to find them and bring them safely home. Numbered in the 56 was Br. Smith from Sarah's newly adopted family and one of the small boys she had been asked to watch along the way.

On Nov. 3o just over 300 of the 500+ who started, arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.

Sarah Steed was one of them.

i was not prepared to walk in Martin's Cove and feel the spirit there. As i took to the 5 mile trail, i had chapstick to protect my lips from the wind, sunglasses to shade the sun, and new nikes to protect my feet. as i walked i could feel the water bottle brushing against my leg, the weight of the camera slung over my shoulder and an annoying peeble that somehow got in my shoe. i can't imagine what they felt... or didn't feel, their starved bodies worn out, their feet bleeding, their hands, faces and bodies no doubt numb from the bitter cold.

i came hereout of curiosity, they had come heeding the call of a prophet, with a burning desire to be with his people, build his temple and receive the blessings promised therein.

it's a story of commitment and sacrifice, they are now my heros... everyone of them.