CHAPMAN, Neb. — Yesterday was supposed to be the hardest day in Nebraska--with 22 miles to be covered. And it certainly seemed like an almost endless pull. But going back out today and hauling these handcarts 16 miles through the mud and sand was what nearly broke us.
We sunk six inches into the muck at times and were short-handed on the handcart crews all day, due to blisters and fatigue. Rain fell on us intermittently, and we couldn't stop to rest because we started to freeze the moment we quit moving. All we could do was laugh at ourselves for being out here on this bizarre excursion.
The wagon teams were established long before we left Winter Quarters two weeks ago, but we of the handcart company have sorted ourselves into compatible crews through trial and experience. I'm settled now, pulling with Pete Petramalo, 61, and his two grandsons, Joseph Petramalo, 13, and Joseph Flake, 12. The boys are amazing--they pull the cart all day every day (except Sunday, when we rest), and they never complain. As Grandpa Pete and I talk up front, I can hear the Josephs talking to each other, or singing. Great boys!
We are an unusual-looking crew, but then, each of the handcart crews lends new meaning to the word "motley." Different from each other as we are, the entire handcart company has congealed into a family over the past two weeks.
Our days are long and difficult--we march out of camp at 7 a.m., rain or shine, but we are having a wonderful time. The unexpected joy of pulling a handcart is contagious. Amy Freestone, 23, of Oregon, is just one of the many people who came for a day or a weekend and now can't tear herself away. Three families from Houston came for two days, then sent one of the dads back to get more clothing and schoolwork for the kids--they're staying for a month. (Dad even brought back their very pregnant dog.) One woman in Columbus saw the wagon train go by her window and caught the spirit of the adventure immediately--she marched for a week.
We laugh all day, especially when we're too tired to walk another foot, but we know that we have to keep pulling these carts several more miles. We sing in the morning, in the evening and in between. And of course we grumble some (sometimes a lot), but nothing could make us quit.
People ask us all the time--where does it hurt? They'd get a shorter answer by asking what doesn't hurt. Personally, I'd have to say that my hip joints are my most painful body part. Pulling those carts 10 to 24 miles a day through sand and mud is asking much more of me than I thought I had to give.
