Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Kathryn looked at him, not sure that that was what she wanted to hear. They were all reeling a little from the shock of seeing how totally empty and barren the Valley was. As they had crossed the desert country that stretched from the last crossing of the North Platte to Fort Bridger, she had asked herself over and over, What if this is what it’s like where we’re going?But then they had entered the mountains, and things began to look more like home again, and her concerns had subsided. Now this lay before them.

  Elders Orson Pratt and George A. Smith had stood back, letting the people react to the sight of their new home. Now Elder Pratt spoke. “I hope you all heard what Brother Ingalls said just now. That is why we are not going on to California. The Lord has led us here because here we shall not be disturbed by our enemies. Here we have a place that is totally unpopulated by others. Here we will at last be safe.”

  William Clayton spoke one last time. “Brethren and sisters, I must say that I am happily disappointed in the appearance of the Valley of the Salt Lake.”

  That brought a chuckle from several of the party.

  “But I have no fears but that the Saints can live here and do well if we will do what’s right.”

  “We can get timber from the mountains,” Howard Egan added eagerly. “And I’ll bet there’s coal up there somewhere too.”

  “There’s only one question to ask,” Elder Smith said with finality. “Is this the place where God wants us to stop?”

  Orson Pratt spoke up, his voice filled with conviction. “President Young thinks it is, so until he says differently, we have work to do. I suggest we get back in our wagons and go find that spot that Brother Snow and I think will be the best place to put in our plows.”

  As the people turned and started back for their wagons, Kathryn didn’t move. She let her eyes roam again across the whole length of the valley before them. Peter watched her closely. “Are you all right, Kathryn?”

  She looked at him, and then slowly nodded. “Elder Smith is right. That isthe only question.” She glanced to the west once more, then managed a wan smile. “Will you plant me some trees, Peter?”

  He laughed. “I will. Dozens of them.”

  Now her smile spread and filled her eyes as well. “Then we’re home, Peter. And that’s all that matters.”

  It was nearly sundown on the other side of Big Mountain, but Nathan could see none of it. The bulk of the mountain left their campsite in deep shadows. The sun had gone down behind Big Mountain more than half an hour before. Nathan stood beside the creek, absently swatting mosquitoes as he stared up at the massive slope before him. That slope would be their task tomorrow. The reports were encouraging. Though it looked daunting, the riders who had come back from the main party assured them that the soil was soft and would be an easier ride for the sick.

  He heard footsteps and turned. Brother Wilford Woodruff was coming from upstream, his fishing rod in his hands. Nathan chuckled. At Fort Bridger, Elder Woodruff, who had brought some so-called “flies” from England and a special lightweight fishing rod, had gone out to try “fly fishing.” Some of the men had found this highly amusing. Imagine, thinking you could get a fish to strike a cluster of hair wrapped around a hook floating on topof the water. But when he came back with more trout than all the rest of them together, everyone stopped laughing. Now every time they rested alongside a stream of any consequence, the Apostle went out to try his hand again.

  “Any luck?” Nathan asked as he came up to join him.

  Wilford rattled the creel he had over his shoulders and there was a soft thumping sound. “Of course,” he grinned.

  Nathan smiled, and then once again, without conscious thought, his eye was drawn to the mountain that towered over them.

  Wilford watched him for a moment, then turned to survey the same scene. “So this is the last big one,” he said quietly.

  Nathan nodded. “From the top they say we can make it into the Valley in one day.”

  “Hardly seems real, does it?” the Apostle mused.

  Again Nathan nodded. “I still find it hard to believe that in a day or two it will all be over.”

  There was a soft chuckle. “No,” Elder Woodruff said, “in a day or two it will all be beginning.”

  “Private Steed?”

  Josh turned around. “Yes, Sergeant?”

  Luther Tuttle reached out and boxed his ears playfully. “Hey, boy! What are you doing answering to the title of private? You’re not a private anymore and I’m not your sergeant. Do you hear me?”

  “Sorry, Mr.Tuttle, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir,” Tuttle started automatically. “I’m not an officer. I work for a living.” It was the standard answer noncommissioned officers gave when young privates called them sir. But then he stopped, looking sheepish as he realized that he had just contradicted himself. “I guess you can call me sir if you’d like.”

  Josh laughed. They were like children. It had been one week since their release, but the euphoric mood was still on them.

  “Captain Hunt has already left, you know.”

  Josh sobered. “Yes. I don’t understand it. Why can’t we all go together?”

  “Because Captain Hunt is convinced that going up the coast by way of Monterey and San Francisco Bay will be faster and safer than going up the central valley.”

  “Do you think it will?”

  “Well, it’s longer, but El Camino Real is an established road. It links all of the Catholic missions, so it’s well traveled and well maintained.”

  Josh gave him a severe frown. “That’s not what I asked you.”

  He shrugged. “Hunt is going to Sutter’s Fort. We’re going to Sutter’s Fort. We’ll see which is the faster route when we get there.”

  “Is that what the army did to you?”

  “What?”

  “Make it so you can’t give a man a straight answer?”

  Tuttle laughed. “And is that what the army did to you?”

  “What?”

  “Made you such an insolent pup?”

  “See, you did it again,” Josh howled in protest. “You don’t have a plain yes or no in you.”

  Just then the flap to their tent opened. It was Levi Hancock. “You two ready?”

  “Yep,” Tuttle sang out cheerfully. “Soon as I get this young pup housebroke.”

  Hancock laughed, knowing full well how these two bantered with each other. “Well, we’re moving out in half an hour. Better break down your tent.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said in happy unison.

  On the morning of July twenty-fourth, Nathan left his wagon for one of the other men to drive, borrowed a horse from Brigham Young, then set out with Heber C. Kimball to scout ahead of the lead wagon, carefully scrutinizing the road for particularly rough spots so that they could warn the drivers to watch for them. There was great concern in the camp about the ability of the sick to hold up under another day of travel. After the previous day, those suffering from mountain fever, including President Young, were nearly exhausted. They had started out at six forty-five in the morning. Up and over Big Mountain they went. By the time they made the treacherous descent, they had to stop and rest for a couple of hours. Then they had pushed on. Like the ones who had come this way two days before, they were not content to stop at the logical campsites. When they reached the cold springs at the bottom of Little Mountain, they too made a decision. They hitched up their suspenders, spit on their hands, then went up and over the top of that last ridge. By that time, the sick could stand no more and they had to camp at the head of Last Canyon, six miles short of their destination.

  It was a disappointment in a way. Messengers had brought back the word that the main party had entered the Valley two days before. Nathan sighed, and then shrugged. So it would be July twenty-fourth and not July twenty-second for him. What were two days in the grand scheme of things?

  “There it is.”

  Nathan’s head came up. He had not been paying attention and suddenly realized
that they had come to the canyon’s mouth and that the Valley lay before him. He reined in, stunned by the sudden openness.

  “Whoa,” Heber said softly to his horse, which seemed to have picked up the group’s excitement. He looked at Nathan. “I’d say that’s big enough.”

  At the sound of a wagon, they turned. Wilford Woodruff’s light wagon was just emerging from the canyon. Nathan was a little surprised that he was that close behind them. Then he smiled. No, not really. In the back of Wilford Woodruff’s wagon was a bed. And in that bed was President Brigham Young. It was he who was urging Elder Woodruff ahead with all speed, of that Nathan was sure. Last night Brigham had wanted to ride his horse into the Valley, but over his protests the brethren had prevailed upon him to stay in his bed for at least one more day.

  “It looks like they went that way,” Heber said, pointing to a gentle ridge above them. The wagon tracks were clearly evident.

  They turned and rode to the top, then stopped to wait for their President. In a moment, Elder Woodruff could be heard urging his team up the hill. Thus far, none of the other wagons had appeared behind him, suggesting again that President Young had urged Elder Woodruff to proceed with full haste.

  As Elder Woodruff’s wagon came up behind them, Nathan saw that someone had rolled up the canvas partway on both sides of the wagon, then tied it in place, allowing Brigham to see out either side. Now Nathan saw that Brother Brigham was up on one elbow, craning his neck to see better.

  “I can’t see that much, Brother Wilford,” Brigham called out as they reached the spot where Brother Kimball and Nathan were waiting.

  “Turn the carriage around, Wilford,” Heber suggested.

  Wilford nodded and swung the wagon around in a large circle. When he stopped, the side of the wagon faced to the northwest. Wanting to hear Brigham’s reaction to what lay before them, Nathan nudged his horse closer. As the wagon stopped, both Elder Kimball and Elder Woodruff got down and moved to their companion. Reaching through the open canvas, they helped Brigham into a half-sitting position.

  There was not a sound other than the stamping of horses and the soft jingling of the harnessing. For a long time, Brigham gazed out over the Valley. Nathan could not take his eyes from off the chief Apostle’s face. He was wrapped in concentration. His eyes were open and yet they did not sweep back and forth to take in the width of the scene before them. It was as though he were seeing something directly before him, something of such wonder that nothing else could draw his attention.

  It seemed to go on for several minutes. No one spoke or moved. Finally, Nathan saw Brigham’s body relax somewhat. He sank down a little and turned to Elder Woodruff. There was a soft smile now and his eyes were filled with pleasure. “It is enough, Wilford. This is the right place. Drive on.”

  Chapter Notes

  Orson Pratt and Erastus Snow were the first to enter the Salt Lake Valley on Wednesday, July twenty-first. The main company entered the Valley the next day about four p.m. Brigham Young did not enter until about midday on the twenty-fourth of July. Because it was his vision that had guided the Saints to this place, the twenty-fourth became the official day of entry.

  While the conversation of the Saints on seeing the Valley is based on actual comments written later by those who were there, most of what is said here does not come directly from the journals. William Clayton’s “happily disappointed” comment does come from his 22 July journal entry.

  On the day Brigham Young entered the Salt Lake Valley, Wilford Woodruff wrote in his journal, “President Young expressed his full satisfaction in the Appearance of the valley as A resting place for the Saints & was Amply repayed for his Journey.” It was in a conference much later that Elder Woodruff gave more details: “When we came out of the canyon into full view of the valley, I turned the side of my carriage around, open to the west, and President Young arose from his bed and took a survey of the country. While gazing on the scene before us, he was enwrapped in vision for several minutes. He had seen the valley before in vision, and upon this occasion he saw the future glory of Zion and of Israel, as they would be, planted in the valleys of these mountains. When the vision had passed, he said: ‘It is enough. This is the right place, drive on.’ ” (Cited in B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Century I,6 vols. [Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1930], 3:224.)

  It is an interesting coincidence that though they had no way of knowing it, the main body of the Mormon Battalion left Pueblo de Los Angeles on the twenty-third of July at the very time when the Saints had finally reached the Salt Lake Valley.

  Today, Big Mountain and Little Mountain still carry the same names. What the Pioneers called “Last Canyon” is now Emigration Canyon. The famous This Is the Place Monument stands not far from the mouth of that canyon. Those interested in following this portion of the Mormon Trail can find interpretive signs or historical markers at Echo Canyon (beside the westbound rest stop on I-80), Henefer, Hogsback Summit (the current name for Pratt’s Pass or Reed’s Pass), Mormon Flats (at the eastern base of Big Mountain), on the top of Big Mountain, at the summit of Little Mountain, and at the site of the last camp in Emigration Canyon. There is also a small monument just a short distance up Emigration Canyon noting what has come to be called Donner Hill.

  The Donners took approximately sixteen days to cut a road from Henefer into the Salt Lake Valley. The next year the Saints would cover the same distance in four days. Thus, though their journey ended in tragedy, the Donner Party proved to be a great blessing to the Pioneer Company.

  Chapter 47

  As they dismounted at the base of the rounded hill, Nathan watched President Young carefully. He climbed gingerly down from Elder Woodruff’s wagon, looking pale and tired. Nathan saw his hands trembling a little as he held on to the tailgate of the wagon. Nathan and Elder Woodruff exchanged looks, but the Apostle gave a slight shake of his head and Nathan decided it was not his place to say anything. Brigham stood there for a moment, as though collecting his strength, and then he looked up.

  Nathan let his eyes follow. They had ridden north about a mile and a half from the encampment on City Creek to where the foothills started rising above the north end of the Valley. This one rounded peak—or better, this knob, for that was what it was—stood apart from the others. It reminded Nathan of the head of a Franciscan monk with his bald pate and a ring of hair around his ears. In this case, the baldness was the rounded top of the peak itself. The hair—really only on one side—was an outcropping of rocks on the west side of the hill.

  “I’d like to go to the top.”

  Several heads jerked around. “President,” Heber C. Kimball said, “are you sure you are strong enough to climb?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently, waving his hand. “I’m forty-six, brethren, not eighty-six. Don’t wait for me. You go on up and I’ll get there as soon as these old knees will carry me.”

  Heber motioned for the others to go. “I’ll come up with him. You go on.”

  From the top the view was spectacular. Directly west, like an azure mirror placed on a brown-gray tabletop, the Great Salt Lake stretched northward as far as the eye could see. Its south end was directly west of them, but in the other direction they could not see where it ended. To the south, the great emptiness of the Valley lay before them. The only thing in the whole expanse that drew the eye was the encampment. There the cluster of wagons was lined up along the first dark squares of the plowed fields. Nathan squinted a little, seeing the tiny figures of horses and men starting on a new plot, and wondered if one of them was Derek or Peter.

  The main company had entered the Valley on Thursday. By the time Brigham Young’s group came in about midday on Saturday, they had more than five acres plowed and planted in potatoes, and had what they were calling City Creek dammed and turned into furrows to water the fields.

  They had rested yesterday and joined in worship services, which primarily were ser
vices of thanksgiving. Today, Monday, the plowing was under way again, with sowers bringing in the other crops—oats, buckwheat, beans, anything that would grow rapidly—right behind them.

  Nathan turned and walked to the north side of the knob and looked down. Brigham Young was coming slowly, following the trail the others had made, Heber Kimball on one arm, Willard Richards on the other. Brigham was using Elder Richards’s walking stick, and he leaned on it heavily as they moved along. Nathan watched until they reached the top; then, along with the other men, he moved over to join those who were waiting.

  Brigham took almost five minutes to catch his breath, standing on the edge of the hill on the south side, gazing out across the Valley. The others in the exploration party said nothing but just stood back and waited.

  Finally, their President turned and came back to join them. “Brethren, gather in close. There are some things I would like to say before we continue on with our task today.”

  The men edged in closer, anxious to hear. He motioned to Heber, who, seeming to know what Brigham was after, withdrew a Bible from the bag he had carried up the hill. He handed it to the senior Apostle. Brigham immediately began leafing through the book until he found the place he was looking for. He closed the book with his finger in it and turned back to the men.

  “Centuries before the birth of Christ, the prophet Isaiah foretold great things which were to come on the earth in the latter days. Some of those things are now found in the Book of Mormon. Other things Isaiah said were quoted by the angel Moroni when he came that first night to the Prophet Joseph Smith back in September of eighteen twenty-three. Let me read one of the things Moroni quoted from Isaiah. This is in chapter eleven.” He opened the book and began to read in a loud voice. “ ‘And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall set his hand again the second time to recover the remnant of his people, which shall be left. . . . And he shall set up an ensign for the nations, and shall assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather together the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth.’ ”