Oh Pioneers

Oh Pioneers

    Having made the crossing over Donner Pass, the site where early pioneers faced such a dificult time that they alledgedly were forced to eat some of their fallen travelers in order to survive, I was struck by the seemiung endless forest now all covered with heavy snow.  Large driver-operated snow removers size of farm combines, their corkscrew-like feeders putting my own 12-horsepower snowblower to shame, shot old congealed snow over the barriers and into the forest like the spray from a firehose (and for those of you who haven't shoveled snow in awhile, the more snow sits and melts and rehardens, the heavier it is to remove; even snow that one's own blower has thrown off to the side you'll find much more compact and thus heavier to manually shovel).  Whatever the machinery, this area was apparently ready for it (near this area is the ski and casino resort area of Lake Tahoe, site of the one of the deeper lakes in the world).  Perhaps other snow areas had similar equipment, but in my state (which is also known for its ski areas and generally receives a fare amount of snow), I had only seen plows that basically pushed the snow off to the side. 

    Here I was traveling at a decent speed, able to admire the beauty of the surroundings (I had rented a behemouth of a car, one that weighed 4900 pounds, all in order to give me a bit more stability should I encounter the snow I anticipated over the pass, but my massive car was also a marvel of newer technology, the navigation and satellite system easily picking up my coordinates despite the tree cover and winding roads, the airbags and stability controls all standing by automatically should I ever begin sliding or losing traction...ironically, the most trying part of this particular drive was in crossing certain flatlands, large expanses of desert with winds so strong that in many areas it felt as if I were in a Hollywood movie, complete with tumbleweeds by the dozens constantly flying across the road as if rolling collections of litter ready to fly under my car or bounce over my windshield;  and it was there, while passing large semi-trucks --which seems an odd name in itself for these large cargo trucks are anything but "semi" trucks but rather my definition of what a truck should be-- that I would experience the power of the wind, their large size creating a brief blockage of the wind and upon my car getting past that barrier, finding out that my car would shift a few feet to the side; it was all both scary and marvelous, that even with my heavy car, the weight was no match for the wind).

    So how did the pioneers do it?  What force drove them onward through such conditions, especially in not knowing what lay ahead?  One can ask this question of any series of settlers throughout the world, what inner voice makes them continue to press onward?  One of my friends who has traced her geneology told me of one of her greast-great grandmothers, herself making such a crossing in a covered wagon, simply not returning one day.  The caravan had stopped and some of the wearied people had wandered off to explore or do their business or try to find a place to wipe off or whatever; but in this care, my friend's relation had not returned...and the caravan moved on.  So here I was facing those blazing winds and mumbling that I would slow my trip by a bit, my speed now dropping from the posted speed limit of 80 mph to a safer 55 or so, passing only the stray semi.  But for the pioneers, there was no such choice, the bitter cold only adding to the blowing winds, for now the snow had begun, the flakes joining the blowing weeds as they slanted across the panorama ahead, becoming so numerous that it soon became a bit difficult to see what was ahead.  For the pioneers encountering such conditions, some could seek a bit of shelter in the wagons and hope that the canvas covers would hold and that the wagons wouldn't simply be blown over or that one of the wood wheels wouldn't break or get stuck in a snow-buried divet.  But for the hores pulling the wagons, there would likely be no such relief.  They would simply have to endure the wind and the cold and the coming mountains, pushing onward and pulling their heavy loads through unknown terrains.  And even for me, the road seemed endless, me traveling at a ridiculous speed when compared to a horse-drawn wagon.  It all seemed such an unreal comparison, me listening to whatever in a bubbled environment, comfortable and warm and knowing that many others were nearby to continue on or back to get help should something happen (but me 95% confident that nothing WOULD happen).  For the pioneers, there was likely no such comfort; they were the outcasts or the few deciding to leave such comforts as a city or town, all in the drive to seek someplace new, someplace to call their own and to start a new life.

    It was then that I reached the pass, Donner Pass, the concrete roads now seeming to trap my car's tires with its grooves, the results of so many semis making the crossing, each required by law to have "heavy" chains on their tires (such warning signs also dotted the desert landscapes I had crossed) and those chains taking off a bit of rock bit by bit.  Later portions of the road were already patched, as if getting prepared for the next winter.  Road crews, even in remote locations, were already beginning to repair the roughest sections as if expecting that these conditions might prove better than what lay ahead.  So that left me free to simply gaze, to admire the striking sun now painting the snow on the mountains, the clearings and weather opening up as if congratulating me on making it through the most difficult part.  Another hour or so, and I would begin to see the lights of the cities ahead, the welcome terrain of food and gas and hospitals and comfort; my hands on the wheel could relax, my destination in sight if I could just press on (by the time I would get to the airport to pick up my brother, I would have amassed 13 hours or so of driving).  Phew, what a journey...but then who was I kidding?  The first few pioneers likely couldn't appreciate such striking sunsets or  morning crossings (although they likely welcomed the terrain finally giving was to a downward slope), for where WAS their destination?  They would be creating their own destination, a land stretching out ahead of them giving them free choice; but what was IN that land?  Would it be a welcoming site or would it be a terrifying one?  How would it look in another three months?  Would there be water?  Would there be food, animal or vegetable?  Could the land be farmed?  Would the land flood?  Would they be safe or were they be attacked by wild animals or other humans?  Would they have enough resources and time to "start from scratch."  For many of the pioneers, just reaching this point, a point where they would decide to stop, would be just another start of their next journey, putting down roots so that the next set of people could crest the pass the perhaps see or smell the light of a fire and food being cooked and in their own way, sigh a gasp of relief that ahead lay some comfort.  And soon, another caravan would arrive and before long, enough people would stay and open a store and build a town.  Accelerate the process and before long, the shacks and wood structures would rot and be buried and give way to sturdier more-established cities (in this area, one of the reservoirs at the city of Folsom grew so low in water that early wood settlements appeared at the bottom of the catchement, a chance to view this early history which lay buried for decades).  And isn't it a bit unreal in itself that this accelerated history is all placed in that time period of decades and not centuries?  Okay, just past a century ago, but certainly not in a plural sense.  So jump back to real history (not imply that U.S. history isn't "real" but rather that it is relatively short compared to that of Asia or Persia or Europe)...Romans, samurai, emperors.   What made THOSE pioneers continue onward and begin their own process of settling in?  And look at our massive cities now?

    It is all a marvel (or a curse, depending on how you look at it).  But at this moment, making it over the pass, I wasn't thinking of any of that for I was only relieved.  I had made it (and after fearing the worst); my winter crossing had been successful despite the days and days of satellite-driven webcams showing blurred-out screens and snow-covered roads and overhead highway signs posting "chains mandatory" and "30 mph max."  Instead, the 4-day storm had passed and the sun and the snow-removal teams and weather forecasters had done their job.  My oversized (for me, anyway) car had made it through with a wink and a blink as if chuckling that such an inexperienced driver had even BEEN worried; why "no problemo" it seemed to be saying, lumping itself in the dozens of off-road vehicles that also get through harsh conditions, only this time, there was a highway system and a city and an infrastructure all waiting behind it all.  Drains and roads and machinery...the pioneers had done more than I could have ever imagined.