And it came to pass that we finally made it to Wyoming, to which I am positive I am allergic. As we rolled in to Martin's Cove 4 hours late, I thought to myself. "Self", I said "there is a whole lot of sage brush and desert-ish space not so far from home in Utah, why, oh, why did we drive all the way up here just to trek through some sage brush?"
We did not receive handcarts to push, due to the tardiness of ourselves-thank heavens, as we trekked up to Martin's Cove. It was the hottest part of the day, and it came to pass that I was unimpressed- until we got to the part where we were serenaded with 'Come Come Ye Saints' and we heard the plight of said saints and started up the trail to the Cove. It was an epitomic ( I think I just made that word up) experience. I was awed that they were willing to come to Zion right away, instead of waiting for the train (I would've waited I'm sure). The faith that propelled them through the sweltering heat, step after blistered step, into the freezing cold, truly amazes me. And lo I was humbled, and grateful.
Even though we had to set up our tents in the dark-ish, I'm so glad we went to Martin's Cove, it got all of us in the right frame of mind to walk in the pioneer's footsteps the very next day.
Part 3- the end... tomorrow