Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
Mileage: 523
Total mileage: 2258
Today’s time in car: 7 hours 16 minutes
Starting from: Omaha, Nebraska
Ending in: Cheyenne, Wyoming
States visited: Nebraska, Wyoming
Today’s boredom buster: new socks
Mood: inspired
Leaving Nauvoo yesterday, we had a decision to make. Should we go north to South Dakota and see Mt. Rushmore or stay on hwy 80, a path we have already taken when we drove east three years ago? We really wanted to go north, but given the time of year we decided that it would be more prudent to stay on 80. So, we continued along hwy 80, following the Mormon trail.
This morning, after unpacking and reorganizing the additional baggage in our car, we drove over to the Mormon Trail Center in Florence, Nebraska. This is where the early wagon companies built cabins and wintered over before resuming their journey west.
Last time we were here, Abby was only four; she has no memory of this place. And I have to admit, it was much more meaningful for me to be here after visiting all of the other historic sites this week.
A sister missionary took us on a tour of the center, recounting the hardships and sorrow the pioneers had on their trek west. A portion of the journey that should have taken four weeks took four months. Four months of slogging through cold mud that came up to the wagon boxes. That’s chest high for someone my size.
We drove the same distance in one day.
Even when they made it to Winter Quarters, death was a near daily occurrence. Children particularly, were susceptible to scurvy from the lack of fresh produce. Many were buried at the cemetery on the hill across the street from where we stood. After the tour, I stooped in the cemetery tracing the barely legible letters on this small marking stone. A-M-Y.
And yet, they kept their faith firmly wrapped around them and continued on. This statue in the cemetery shows a grieving couple standing over the grave of their baby. The sorrow is plainly etched on their faces, yet the man’s bent leg shows him preparing to take a step and keep going.
Why did they do it? Through it all, the sorrow, the hardships, even the monotony of walking 1000 miles across seemingly unchanging plains, burned a conviction that they were following God’s will.
They kept moving west. And they sang as they went.
One of my favorite hymns was written on the trail by one of these early pioneers. Journal accounts from the time indicate that it was sung nearly every day. Hear it here.
The tour had fun parts as well. Abby practiced loading her wagon, placing the important things in first, weighing what must be left behind. She also got to pull a handcart.
I hope all these memories stay with her. That she is able to lean upon the testimonies of her ancestors when life gets difficult. That she will be inspired to keep placing one foot in front of another even when she is so very tired.
Today’s drive was long. I read. Abby watched movies and drew. Bob just drove. We were bored.
I tried to keep in my mind’s eye a picture of the past, those that struggled along this same road all those years ago. I tried to be grateful.
Still, at our hotel this evening, I locked myself in the bathroom for just five minutes to myself.
Abby came knocking after two.
Tomorrow: A long day of driving.
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
This morning, after breakfast, we explored more of historic Nauvoo (including the barns and oxen corral where I took the above photo) before driving into Carthage. There we were privileged to visit Carthage Jail, where Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum gave their lives for their testimonies of Jesus Christ.
We sat in the very room where the mob shot through the door, killing Hyrum, before pushing their way in, wounding John Taylor (the same man who went back for his son’s horse), and shooting Joseph as he fell through the window.
We have been in some fantastic places along this journey, but nothing compared with the feeling in that yellow limestone jail. Bob and I both wiped tears from our eyes as we contemplated the sacrifices made in that very room.
Outdoors, I watched as Abby jumped over cracks in the stonework just ffet from the very place Joseph’s body had lain. I couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t feel disrespectful. It felt joyful. And knowing what I do about the man, I think he would have appreciated it.
The mobbers thought that killing Joseph Smith would put an end to the Mormons, yet here we stood, over 160 years later. I too, felt joy.
We had lunch at Dairy Queen. I’ve been craving this for three years. (There’s no DQ in the part of Maryland we had been living in.) Our family then resumed our long journey west.
We listed to a recording of Pippi Longstocking while I amused myself by taking pictures.
Of this.
And this.
And this.
Little did we know of the danger lurking just up the highway.
We drove along, feeling fine, when suddenly, we felt a thump on our car that caused us to swerve a bit. Bob looked in the rear view mirror and exclaimed… something that I won’t be printing. He put on the brakes and the hazard lights and pulled over.
I looked back in confusion to see Abby’s backpack and lots of random papers lying in the median. We got out and felt shocked to see our cargo carrier looking like this.
Somehow (the force of Bob’s powerful driving perhaps?) the carrier had ripped and spewed our belongings along the highway.
The red box in the photo had held important papers for Bob’s business. We ran to gather them with cars rushing by just feet from us. We noticed, with relief, two things: first, the papers that had blown out were only testimonial letters and second, not one had blown into the highway. All of them were lying in the grassy median where we were able to gather them up.
We also picked up Abby’s backpack and a Magic Treehouse CD. It had been in her CD player, the bulk of which now lay 100 feet from where it had first landed. Another shiny CD drew our attention, but it was merely someone’s discarded porn. We left it in the mud. We emptied all of our things from the carrier, shoving them haphazardly into the car.
Once we were safely back in the car, Bob and I gave thanks that greater disaster had been averted. No one was hurt. Our things had not flown into the highway, causing an accident. And the only thing we lost was Abby’s CD player, broken beyond repair.
Bob carefully drove us to the next exit where these men, hotel employees, offered to help him remove and discard the broken carrier alongside the hotel dumpster.
After that we just drove. I started reading Dianne Stetterfield’s “The Thirteenth Tale”. Abby watched “Bug’s Life”. Bob just drove.
Tomorrow: Mormon Trail Center, Florence, Nebraska
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
We started our morning with a Dr. Suess inspired breakfast from IHOP. Abby and I ordered the same meal. I do not really care for Technicolor food like the pancakes, but we both agreed that the spinachy “green eggs” were delicious.
On our way out the door, I noticed a gray-haired, little old woman sitting alone. She motioned me over to her and whispered, “Sweetheart, your hair is so cute. I really like it.” I really ought to pay more random compliments like that. It was so nice!
We only drove 200 miles today. Somehow we ended up a tiny bit lost and crossed the river into Iowa. We turned around and eventually found our way into Nauvoo, stopping once to ask directions here.
To amuse ourselves today, Bob, Abby and I just looked out the window while we listened to more of “The Dragon Rider”.
Illinois has no shortage of broken down single-wide trailers, pink houses (so John Cougar Mellencamp), or farmhouses. Some were ugly, others lovely, and all were charming in their way.
I wonder about the people who live there. Do they marvel at wheat futures? Gossip about Brenda-Sue’s boy and his new girlfriend with all the tatoos? Lie awake at night worrying about their aging parents and their young kids and the mortgage? Do they have home perms or go see Donna-Jo at her new beauty parlor? Why did they paint their house pink?
Once in Nauvoo, I asked commanded Abby to change from her short skirt into long pants more suitable for walking around in the cool outdoors. After 20 minutes of whining and crying, she complied, only to be hit with an anxiety attack. She could wear them, but she then felt too “nervous” to do anything but huddle in a corner and cry.
Darn it! I knew better. I can not force the issue of clothes with her. And, truth be known, it was really more of a irritated power play on my part. My fault.
I pulled a long dress from the suitcase and had her change in the car. I took her hated pants and threw them out the window.
And then I went and picked them up. Good thing we were parked.
However, we were both considerably cheered.
Today we visited the home of my great-great grandfather, Wilford Woodruff and his wife Phoebe. It was beautiful. After serving a mission in England, he declared that he never wanted to be cold again and so built a fireplace into every room of his house. No other home here has that feature. He spent about 40 nights in his home, serving another mission to England with his family, before returning to Nauvoo and being forced out by the mobs. He was lucky to sell his home for about $500; others got much less. We heard of one farm selling for $4.
We also went to the Red Brick Store, where the Relief Society was organized, the Smith family grave site, Brigham Young’s home, and the home of John Taylor. Here we learned a touching story. When the Taylor family fled their home they left most of their belongings behind. One little boy was inconsolable about the loss of this horse. When his father learned what the trouble was, disregarding the threat to his safety, he crossed back over the river, in disguise and at night, in order to bring back his son’s prized toy. The horse made it all the way to the Salt Lake valley with the family, only to be returned many years later by some Taylor descendents.
This evening we took advantage of the hotel pool before heading out to dinner. Abby wore her new hat and pretended to be a pioneer pirate.
Tomorrow: More Nauvoo and Carthage jail
After tomorrow, we need to pick up the pace. We have 2100 miles to go, and Bob would like to make it by Sunday. (Good luck!)
I only have three more books with me. We’ll see how I fare.
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
Someone, I’ll not say who, left the dome light on in the car last night. This person went out to get her notebook, the one with the mileage information in it, so that she could post the information to her blog. Now, I’m not pointing any fingers, but this nameless person, the one that left the dome light on, is at fault for the dead battery this morning. But she was very sorry and contrite, so no one was too terribly angry with her.
These kind men drove their truck up a snowbank to jumpstart our car. We thanked them profusely, hands were shaken all around, and we were finally on our way.
Our only point of interest today was the Kirtland Temple in Kirtland, Ohio. We did not have time to see the other historical sites there, but the temple was amazing.
The early LDS people, or saints, as they were (and still are) referred to, built this magnificent structure in their poverty and at great personal sacrifice. As a girl, I remember hearing about how the women donated their china and glassware to be ground up and mixed with the stucco for the exterior. This caused the building to glitter in the sun.
My own great-great grandfather, Wilford Woodruff joined the church just three years after the temple’s completion, and he most certainly worshiped and received instruction therein.
The temple is now owned by The Community of Christ, formerly know as the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. They give tours and allow other groups to come and hold services in the temple.
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to see this great piece of my heritage, and that Bob and I could share it with Abby.
After that we just drove. And drove. And drove.
Abby watched Underdog, The Princess Diaries and Pirates of the Caribbean (the first one).
I know it’s PG-13. And she is not 13; she’s 7.
It is the only one of that rating I allow her to watch because 1) I have previewed it several times, 2) I know my daughter and she can handle it and 3) we really like pirates. Or to quote Abby, “I’m very fond of pirates.”
She also drew more animal pictures from her Ed Emberly book. At one point we had the following conversation:
A: This summer, maybe we could have art class at home.
Me: I was thinking the same thing. But not just drawing, more like homemaking. You know, sewing, canning, stuff like that.
A: Okay, you can teach those to me and I’ll teach you how to draw. I’m really, really good at it.
To amuse myself, I finished my Fannie Flagg book, “Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven” and loved it. I’ll definitely have to read more of her. I also spent some time looking out the windows, watching America roll by.
We listened to part of Cornellia Funk’s “The Dragon Rider”.
Bob just drove. He’s a machine.
Stopping for gas somewhere in Indiana, or was it Illinois? We ran into these characters. They had the molted exoskeleton of a tarantula and were trying to frighten Abby and I. But we are made of stronger stuff than that. I just whipped out my camera and impressed them with my daring.
Ain’t America grand?
Tomorrow: Nauvoo, Illinois
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
This was the view from our hotel room this morning.
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