In a message dated 12/5/2007 5:36:48 P.M. Pacific Standard Time,  
[EMAIL PROTECTED] writes:

That  ride is a long way from Southern Oregon, but I would love to do it  some
time. My great grandfather was stationed at Ft. Tejon with the US  Cavalry.
I suppose there are people who ride where their great-grandfathers  had
ridden, but for me that would be a rare  treat.




Very interesting observation, Nancy.  I have had the opportunity to  ride 
where my great grandparents rode and it was wonderful.  
 
As you probably know, the Oregon Trail, the California Trail, the Mormon  
Trail and the Pony Express Trail are mostly the same trail through Nebraska and 
 
Wyoming.  They were exactly the same trail when they passed through central  
Wyoming.  Major stretches of the Trail in Wyoming are pristine. especially  
where the Trail crosses the continental divide at South Pass and also as the  
Trail leaves the desert east of Farson.  You see the trail but no  buildings, 
fences, telephone poles or other manmade objects in any  direction. 
 
All sixteen of my great grandparents emigrated west on the trail either on  
horseback, in a wagon, on foot or even pulling a handcart in the 1840's and  
1850's.  When we rode the Pony Express Trail from Missouri to California in  
2001, I stopped for a moment at the narrow gap where the Trail passes  through 
next to the famous Devil's Gate on the Sweetwater River.  The  gap isn't thirty 
feet wide.  I remember thinking that I was standing  on a spot where every one 
of my great grandparents had stood.  
 
In 2004, when we rode the central Wyoming stretch of the Trail  backwards  
(i.e. from west to east) I remember looking out across the  landscape and 
observing that there was nothing visible to even tell what century  I was in.  
I 
closed my eyes and could hear the voices of ancestors I spent  time with, 
including my great grand mother, grand father, great uncle and of  course my 
own late 
father as clearly as though they were with me.  I  remember thinking that if 
I could choose the place where my life will  someday end that this would be 
the place.  It was a truly mystical  experience.
 
A few days later I rode over South Pass on Remington with my oldest son on  
Skjoldur.  When we crossed the summit and later when we forded the  Sweetwater 
River, we talked about how our ancestors had done the same thing so  many 
years ago.  I remember thinking that sharing that experience  while we fifty 
miles 
together that day was one of the most satisfying  days of my life.  
 
So there you are.  The opportunity for contemplation our horses  provide us 
is a treasure.
 
John Parke
Solvang CA



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