Several days ago I had the opportunity to go on a pioneer trek reenactment with my church group, and it was one of the most physically strenuous things I have ever done in my entire life. The trek lasted 8 miles, and me and over a hundred others walked in 80-degree heat through the Arizona desert with a 60-pound handcart and fake pioneer clothes on our backs.

At the beginning of the trek, we were all divided into “families.” In my cart, I was the Ma (mom for all you city-slickers) and I walked with a Pa (dad) and our four children for over 6 hours. In our trek, we were given four letters that told us about real life pioneer experiences, and three of the letters required us to do an action as part of the trek reenactment.

For my family’s first letter, we were told we had to carry one of our members for ten minutes. For anyone who has ever pulled a handcart, you know how heavy they are and how difficult they are to pull. Add someone who is over a hundred pounds to it, and things get much worse. In our group, all of my kids had some sort of injury. One of my sons had broken one of his ankles twice, my daughter had chronic back problems, another son was a slow walker due to a developmental disability, and one had leg problems and was getting badly sunburnt. Pulling the cart with all the issues we had was difficult for everyone, and everyone had to work together to push the cart or else one person would have the burden all put on them. No one wanted to be that person. We all pulled my son, and when the ten minutes were up, we let him off and continued slowly walking down the trail, ensuring that our family stayed together till the end and that we kept up with the rest of our group.

For the second letter, it told the story of a mother who died on the trail and left her family to survive on their own. For this, I had to walk silently behind the cart for an hour. I could not talk to anyone or help anyone with anything. I was to be a haunting reminder of the reality of death that occurred on these excursions in real life (although I will admit not pulling the cart for an hour was a pretty great deal.)

After we stopped for lunch, our group took a surprising turn. Back during when the treks were going on, the Spanish-American war was in full effect, and 500 Mormons were asked to fight in the war. It was the only religiously based unit in US military history, and the battalion marched over 2,000 miles from Iowa to San Diego without ever encountering any conflict in the war. To recreate this, all the men in our families had to leave to serve, and the women were left to pull the carts alone. I didn’t realize how much the boys helped us pull, and me, being about 110 pounds with the upper arm strength of a toddler struggled immensely up steep hills for half a mile before the boys returned.

Our last letter was about our “baby” that we were given at the beginning of the trek to “take care of.” It was a 6-pound rice sack with a face that our group lovingly named Frankie Bon Bon (short for Bonshaquedalafawndria) Hurren. One of our family members had to carry the baby at all times, and when we finally opened our last letter, we learned that the baby we had carried for over 5 miles had sadly died on the trail. We pulled our carts to the side of the road, buried Frankie with dirt and rocks, said a prayer, and continued on, silently grateful that we no longer had to carry 6 pounds with us anymore.

About half a mile before the end, our company came across a shallow river that we had to cross with our carts. After a long day of hot weather, I was thankful for the cool, refreshing water that seeped through my shoes and splashed on my skirt. When we crossed it, though, we found out we had gone the wrong way. We turned around, hiked back to the right path, crossed the river again, and finally dropped our carts off to end the journey.

Looking back, as difficult has the trek was, it allowed me to meet people who I had never spoken to before, and I bonded with many old and new friends along the way. I laughed, complained, yelled, and even lost my temper, but it taught me the importance of cooperation and kindness while dealing with difficult trials. I am so happy that I had this experience, and would recommend any history nut or anyone with pioneer ancestry to walk (just make sure to bring lots of sunscreen and prepare for sore hips the next day!)