The Old West Rock Traveler™ shares some great history about his home town in the Sweetwater Valley of Wyoming.
DREAMS ON THE WAGON WHEELS:
They are still there today, those wagon tracks snaking their way across the grass lands of the open plains, the faint remains of the old overland trial lie beneath the endless sky, untraveled and unneeded. Once though, it was the highway for pioneers and settlers crossing the Old West, as wagon trains drew out the miles westward, marking the trail with their wheels.
From 1841 through 1860 and beyond, nearly three hundred thousand travelers from the eastern states and from all over the world came west on what was known as the Oregon-California Trail. Each brought with them their own dream, whether it was a dream of virgin farmland in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, gold on the riverbanks of
California , or finding Zion in the Great Salt Lake Valley, each envisioned a great reward at the end of the trail.
Along the way though, many a dream was broken. The harsh elements, disease, starvation and accidents extracted a cruel and indiscriminate toll on the emigrant trains; fully one in ten who started out failed to reach their destination.
In the Sweetwater Valley of present-day Wyoming, the drama of life and death played itself out as on the rest of the trail.
Register of the Desert
Traveling north from Rawlins, highway 287 arrives at Muddy Gap. Here, highway 220 forks northeast. Markers on the roadside also call this the Chief Washakie Trail, so named for the Cheyenne chief who befriended and helped the early white settlers in this part of Wyoming. It is Labor Day weekend, and I am seeking out three of the more prominent pioneers’ landmarks that were visited by many thousands as they crossed though this valley. Here, one can still visit Independence Rock, Devils Gate and Martin’s Cove, incredibly close in proximity to each other, within a radius of only a few miles.
On July 4, 1830, the famous trapper, William Sublette camped beside an enormous rock hill in the middle of the
Prairie. It rose about 128 feet from the valley floor, was 700 feet wide and about 1,400 feet long. Sublette decided to name the oversized hill of solid Archean granite for the day which he had spent there, hence Independence Rock.
A decade later, the overland trail followed its course directly past the rock. Probably due to its barren face, and in keeping with pioneer tradition, emigrants soon began carving their names into the solid stone. They wanted to literally leave their mark on the wilderness, hoping that it would be noticed by those who followed.
As the years wore on, and as thousands of emigrants arrived, Independence Rock bore the chiseled names of more and more of the passers-by. Indeed, it became one of the major landmarks of the California-Oregon Trail. In the timetable of travel on the trail, emigrants arriving at Independence Rock on (of course), Independence Day, or close to it, knew that they were on schedule. Those arriving much later knew that they may not reach their destinations before winter arrived. Accounts from the trail tell of hundreds of pioneers camped at the base of the rock on July 4, baking pies, holding dances and celebrating a good old-fashioned Fourth.
On any given summer evening, hundreds of people might be seen climbing over Independence Rock chiseling their names into this great slate of the wilderness. Eventually, Mormon stone cutters were dispatched from Utah to offer their professional services at the rock, charging a dollar for each name they cut into its granite surface. Fittingly, the great frontier Jesuit priest, Father DeSmet, called Independence Rock “the great register of the desert.”
Today, travelers park outside a small visitor center just off the highway. Looking across grassy meadow, one can view the rock just as it must have appeared to the emigrants. To me, (making my second visit here), the most appreciated history is the palpable variety, and Independence Rock offers itself as such. A gravel trail connects the visitor center to the rock itself where you are allowed to stand, sit or climb upon it while trying to read the name carvings. (Signs strictly forbid visitors from attempting to carve their own names today.)
I decide to take myself on a walking tour around the base of the rock, following somewhat of a trail through the boulders and tall grass that surround it. Today, along with the names in the rock, its circumference also bears numerous plaques and markers, offering testaments to the men and women who made history as they passed here on their way west. On the southeast corner I find a small grave site surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The graves, though, are unmarked. This is where I left my agate, trail-marking my journey to this site, just like pioneer adventurers over one hundred years ago.
Many of the signatures in Independence Rock are located toward the top, but I am not in the kind of shape it would take to make the ascent. Instead, I content myself with finding what signatures I can along the base. Sadly, time is taking its toll on many of the older names. Erosion from wind, water and lichens are slowly claiming the names in the granite–some are barely legible now. Still, descendants of pioneer emigrants make the pilgrimage to Independence Rock to successfully locate their ancestors’ names!
Even in early September, the winds blow cold over the Wyoming, plains and I have donned my jacket under the mid-afternoon sky. Making my way back to the visitor center I notice a tall white stake in what appears to be a stream bed running southward. But this is not a stream bed–it is the actual Oregon-California Trail itself! Grass and sagebrush now choke the wagon ruts where thousands of wagons a year once left their mark. Still, one can plainly identify the path that the trail takes southward, where the next landmark is visible two miles away.
The Worst Disaster
From Independence Rock the trail cut southwest toward a shapeless stand of granite hills known as the Rattlesnake Range. From miles away, you can see where a separation on the east end allows the Sweetwater River to course its way between the high walls on either side. The pioneers called it Devils Gate, after a child was killed in fall there.
A few wagons actually slogged through the river bed and between the walls of Devil’s Gate itself. Most wagons, however, simply rounded the east end of the range. (Some even carved their names in its narrow walls.)
Today, one takes the highway for five minutes from Independence Rock to see Devil’s Gate up close and another trail site of historic and poignant significance, Martin’s Cove.
A black iron gate welcomes the visitor to Martin’s Cove with the inscription: “Mormon Handcart Historic Site–
Martin’s Cove.” Here, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints maintains a modern visitor center and museum dedicated to the handcart pioneers, who came west to Utah from 1856 to 1860. Too poor to afford a wagon and a team of oxen, these were pioneers who pushed or pulled a large two-wheeled cart holding their meager belongings. Undaunted by the added physical challenge, several thousand Saints elected to come by handcart, determined to reach “ Zion,” and the Salt Lake Valley. They took the “Mormon Trail,” which followed the regular overland trail as far as Fort Bridger, where a trail forked southwest over the Wasatch Mountains and into the Salt Lake Valley.
The visitor center, built in 1994 on land purchased from some local cattle rancher, occupies land south of Devil’s Gate between the highway and the Sweetwater River. The center consists of the museum, several out buildings and missionary quarters, gleaming white beneath the ragged outline of the Rattlesnake Range to the west. Couple missionaries of the L.D.S. Church are the caretakers of the property, as well as curators and guides for the museum.
I parked my car in the gravel parking lot and enter the museum. Electing to take my own self-guided tour, I walked among the artistic and informative story boards and display cases. They combine to tell the story of the Mormon migration west which began in 1846 under President Brigham Young. After establishing itself in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, the call went out across the nation and across the Atlantic for Mormons everywhere, including Europe, to gather in Utah. Eventually, more than 100,000 travelers would make the long journey, many by handcart.
It is finally late afternoon and the shadows are long in the Sweetwater Valley. It’s time to take the Chief Washakie Trail for the two hour drive back to Rock Springs. (A hard trek of nearly two weeks for the average emigrant train.)
As nightfall comes, it is almost possible to see the pioneers’ encampments, hear their singing, their laughter, or even share in their despair. They came and went from here, leaving only their wagon tracks, their history and the landmarks, for they were on their way to other places, carrying their dreams as they went, traveling these lands as we do now but taking the time to meet people, share their adventures around the campfire at night and help their neighbors when they could. That is what being a Rock Traveler™ means to me, leaving a piece of myself behind, encouraging someone to contact me on the internet and sharing stories about the great memories we each have during those adventures. We’ll see you down the trail…
The Old West Rock Traveler™ shares some great history about his home town in the Sweetwater Valley of Wyoming.
A decade later, the overland trail followed its course directly past the rock. Probably due to its barren face, and in keeping with pioneer tradition, emigrants soon began carving their names into the solid stone. They wanted to literally leave their mark on the wilderness, hoping that it would be noticed by those who followed. 
It is finally late afternoon and the shadows are long in the Sweetwater Valley. It’s time to take the Chief Washakie Trail for the two hour drive back to Rock Springs. (A hard trek of nearly two weeks for the average emigrant train.) 
