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Wednesday, August 9, 2017 The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
Commentary...
Of a certain age...
By Sue Stafford
Columnist
The speed limit on free-
ways in Wyoming is 80 mph,
even for large semis. The
roads run straight for miles
up and down over rolling
hills. There’s very little traf-
fic. We’ve only encountered
one traffic jam on the entire
trip and that was at rush
hour in Boise due to two
accidents.
What a contrast to the
months it took my ances-
tors to traverse the Oregon
Trail by covered wagon in
1852, the height of the pio-
neer migration. Ruts can still
be seen where the wagons
crossed the prairie. The vis-
tas in Wyoming are vast, the
rock formations are challeng-
ing, and rivers like the Green,
Sweetwater, and North Platte
required dangerous crossings
where many wagons, ani-
mals and people were lost to
swift currents.
On Thursday, August 4,
the dangers and difficulties
of the trail came up close
and personal as I visited the
actual ground crossed 165
years ago by my great-great
grandfather John Tucker
Scott’s family, including wife
Ann and nine children.
At the steep Emigrant Hill
near Guernsey, Wyoming,
the pioneers had to unload
everything from their wag-
ons at the bottom of the hill.
One by one the wagons were
pulled up the hill, empty,
by multiple teams of oxen.
The wagon’s occupants then
had to carry all their belong-
ings up the hill to repack the
wagons.
From there the wagons
progressed, at over a 5,000
feet elevation, across grass-
covered high prairies, always
searching for the treed evi-
dence of springs. Fresh water
and grass were in constant
demand, and often in short
supply, for the livestock and
thirsty humans.
Unfortunately, the pio-
neers didn’t understand
the importance of keep-
ing the water clean, free of
animal and human waste.
Consequently, diseases
like cholera took the lives
of thousands of adults and
children.
Abigail Scott (Ann’s
17-year-old daughter) almost
daily mentioned in her jour-
nal passing graves. Sadly,
one of those graves was that
of John’s wife and Abigail’s
mother, Ann Roelofson Scott.
After the arduous climb up
Emigrant Hill, Ann took sick,
and in a day she was gone.
June 20th’52 Sabbath
Day:
….our mother was taken
about two o’clock this morn-
ing with a violent dierrehea
(sic) attended with cramp-
ing. She however aroused
no one until daylight when
everything was done which
we possibly could do to save
her life; but her constitution
long impaired by disease
was unable to withstand the
attack and this afternoon
between four and five o’clock
her wearied spirit took its
flight and then we real-
ized that we were bereaved
indeed.
A lady died last night in
a train camped near us and
they this morning interred
her lifeless remains and
started off without apparent
delay being occasioned by
her decease.
The family chose a lovely
spot called Alder Clump
(now named Box Elder
Spring) to bury Ann. There
were alder (also called box
elder) and juniper and pine
trees, a large spring, and
lush green grass around the
spring.
June 21st
“The place of her inter-
ment (sic) is a romantic one
and one which seems fit-
ted for the last resting place
of a lover of rural scenery
such as she when in good
health always delighted in;
The grave is situated on an
eminence which overlooks
a ravine intersected with
groves of small pine and
cedar trees; In about the
centre of this ravine or basin,
there wells forth from a kind
of bank a spring of icy cold-
ness, clear as crystal; In the
outskirts of this basin clus-
ters of wild roses and vari-
ous other wild flowers grow
in abundance; And from an
eminence where all this can
be viewed at a single glance,
reposes the last earthly
remains of my mother.
Through synchronicity, I
made contact a year ago with
the rancher, Larry Cundall,
on whose land the spring is
located. Cundall’s family
has owned and worked their
ranch for 100 years this year.
Cundall runs mostly Black
Angus on his 20,000 acres,
PHOTO BY SUE STAFFORD
Plaque erected by Platte County Historical Society and Daughters of the
American Revolution.
which contain six springs.
Larry took us to see where
the still-visible wagon ruts
dug into the earth and stone
as multiple teams of oxen
pulled the fully loaded wag-
ons toward their far-off
destination.
We received an onsite
history and geology lesson
while picking up small chips
of rocks left everywhere
from Indians making arrow-
heads and small tools. He
pointed out Sheep Mountain
up above the trail where
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Indians had laid in wait to
swoop down and steal horses
from the wagon trains.
We ended our tour at
Alder Clump/Box Elder
Spring and the gravesite,
which contains the remains
of three people — a young
woman, an older woman, and
a teenaged boy. Over a period
of 31 years, the three skele-
tons began to emerge out of a
gravel county road and were
eventually excavated by the
See OREGON TRAIL on page 22
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