Good Job

п»Ñ--Today is September 17th , 1843, a day after my family and I arrived in

the Oregon Country. My name is Bobby Kardon. I am Fred Momba’s

second cousin twice removed. I am 21 years old and I have water blue

eyes, shaved head, very muscular, always cheerful, 6' 1" and I am

always willing to help. This is the true story of the breath taking

journey to the Oregon Country.

Today is the day we are packing and leaving for the Oregon

Country from Independence, Missouri. The date is May 2, 1843. My

parents say we must leave early so not to encounter snow fall in the

Rockies. Dad says it is about 2,000 miles by wagon. He said mom and

Sally can stay in the wagon. Sally is my 2 year old sister. The wagon

that we are riding in is called a Conestoga. The design is very practical.

With the floor slopped toward the center to prevent barrels from rolling

out on the hills. The broad wheels resist the mud and the smaller front

wheels reduce the turning radius. The raked gates were subject to less

loading stress and the raked covering protects the interior from the

elements of nature. The design I guess looks like a boat. I call it the

ship of the inland. This design was needed so the wagon could be

pushed across rivers.

The things that we are packing are very essential to the trip and us.

We can’t pack too much. Too much will tire the oxen out. I am

bringing my lucky arrowhead, my diary, a book from my mom and my

hunting rifle. We are all bringing food, water and guns. My mom is

bringing her knitting set. We are ready to leave Independence for the

Oregon Country. We have to travel at least 12 miles a day.

Everything was going well so far, till we reached the Platte River.

This was the first river on the trail. As we came to the river, we see

more wagon trains that are crossing too. Now we join a wagon train.

Finally! The problem is that the river is moving too fast. The only way

we can cross is if we lose 20 pounds to make the wagon float over.

There goes the clean water barrels “plunk, plop, ping.” Now the oxen

made it fine. The water was to my chin and to my dad’s nose. We just

barely made it. “Ahead looks like a sto...” I almost finished telling my

dad that a storm was ahead of us til a woman started to scream. My

instincts took over right away. I raced to the bank of the river. A little

boy, about the age of 10, fell in the river. I ran on the side to the river

and jumped onto a huge rock in the middle of the river . Wait...NOW! I

jumped in right next to the boy. I swam right to shore with the boy on

my shoulders. The woman thanked me and gave us a barrel of fresh,

clean water.

The date is June 1st now. We are at Fort Laramire. With only ten

out of the 20 barrels of food left. We have to change our meals to less

food each time. Looks like a very big storm in the Rockies. Wouldn’t

you know, that’s were we have to go next. To comfort myself, I have to

read and walk. That’s all I have been doing for the past month. The

thing that I do to cheer myself up is to just remember once I get there it

will complete my destiny which is to get to the Oregon Country.

Today is June 19th. It has been dry, hot and muggy since the

Plattle River. There is suppose to be a big storm in the Rockies. I really

hope that is not true.

We have reached the Rockies on June 30th. The Rockies are

supposed