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Location:
Rocky Ridge
Distance: 1,038 miles from Nauvoo
East of Rocky Ridge, at the sixth crossing of the Sweetwater, the
ill-fated Willie Company became snowbound. Captain Willie and another
company member forced their way through the snow and found the rescue
party riding out the storm. After relating the desperate conditions
of the company, the rescuers pushed east with supplies. The Willie
Handcart Company finally made it into Salt Lake City on 9 November,
minus more than seventy members who had died along the trail.
John Chislett, Willie Handcart Company
October 1856
 "We had found a good camp among the willows, and
after warming and partially drying ourselves before good
fires, we ate our scanty fare, paid our usual devotions to
the Deity and retired to rest with hopes of coming aid.
"In the morning the snow was over a foot deep. Our cattle
strayed widely during the storm, and some of them died. But
what was worse to us than all this was the fact that five
persons of both sexes lay in the cold embrace of death. . .
.
". . . It was also resolved in council that Captain
Willie with one man should go in search of the supply train
and apprise the leader of our condition. . . . They were
absent three days—three days which I shall never forget.
". . . The recollection of it unmans me even now—those
three days! During that time I visited the sick, the widows
whose husbands died in serving them, and the aged who could
not help themselves, to know for myself where to dispense
the few articles that had been placed in my charge for
distribution. Such craving hunger I never saw before, and
may God in his mercy spare me the sight again. . . .
". . . On the evening of the third day (21 October)after Captain
Willie's departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind
the distant hills, on an eminence immediately west of our camp several
covered wagons, each drawn by four horses were seen coming towards
us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire. . . . Shouts of
joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their
furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the
joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around
with gladness. Restraint was set aside in the general rejoicing,
and as the brethren entered our camp the sisters fell upon them
and deluged them with kisses.
". . . That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the
songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp, and peals of laughter
issued from the little knots of people as they chatted around the
fires. The change seemed almost miraculous, so sudden was it from
grave to gay, from sorrow to gladness, from mourning to rejoicing.
With the cravings of hunger satisfied, and with hearts filled with
gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer,
and then retire to rest" (quoted in LeRoy R. and Ann W. Hafen, Handcarts
to Zion [1960], 104-107).
Jens Pederson, Willie Handcart Company
23 October 1856
"When they were having such hard times with low rations and cold
weather, one man decided he didn't want to put up with any more
so just said he wasn't going another step. Different ones tried
to talk to him and urge him to go on, but had no effect upon his
decision. Grandpa, Jens O. Pederson asked for permission to talk
to the man. Some told him it wouldn't do any good, so they went
on and grandpa tried to reason with him, but that did no good. Finally
he said, 'Well, if you are not going, I'm going to give you a whipping
before I go on,' and he slapped him quite hard on the face, and
started running to catch up with the company. It made the man angry
and he started after grandpa and both of them caught up to the company.
The man went on and later thanked grandpa for saving his life" (Stewart
E. Glazier and Robert S. Clark, eds., Journal of the Trail,
2nd ed.[1997], 158).
Levi Savage
23 October 1856
 "We buried our dead, got up our teams and about
nine o'clock a.m. commenced ascending the Rocky Ridge. This
was a severe day. The wind blew hard and cold. The ascent
was some five miles long and some places steep and covered
with deep snow. We became weary, set down to rest, and some
became chilled and commenced to freeze. . . .
"About ten or eleven o'clock in the night we came to a creek [Strawberry
Creek] that we did not like to attempt to cross without help, it
being full of ice and freezing cold. Leaving Brothers Atwood and
Woodard with the teams, I started to the camp for help. I met Brother
Willie coming to look for us. He turned for the camp, as he could
do no good alone. I passed several on the road and arrived in camp
after about four miles of travel. I arrived in camp, but few tents
were pitched and men, women, and children sat shivering with cold
around their small fires. Some time lapsed when two teams started
to bring up the rear. Just before daylight they returned, bringing
all with them, some badly frozen, some dying and some dead. It was
certainly heart rending to hear children crying for mothers and
mothers crying for children. By the time I got them as comfortably
situated as circumstances would admit (which was not very comfortable),
day was dawning. I had not shut my eyes for sleep, nor lain down.
I was nearly exhausted with fatigue and want of rest" (Stewart E.
Glazier and Robert S. Clark, eds., Journal of the Trail,
2nd ed. [1997], 155–156; paragraphing altered).
Journal photographs
courtesy of Infobases, Inc.
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