After a wonderful day in Yosemite on Friday we spent Saturday morning hanging out and swimming at the time share.
After lunch we drove towards an area called Tragedy Springs.
It is by Silver Lake (8,000 feet in elevation) where we also found this marker.
Through a few small miracles we found the unmarked road that led us to the markers and gravesite we were looking for. This campsite on the Kit Carson Emigrant Trail was a resting place for California settlers. It was named by members of the Mormon Battalion enroute to Salt Lake Valley. Three of their men, serving as advance trail scouts, were brutally murdered here by unknown persons June 27, 1848. Battalion friends, arriving a few days later, buried them in a common grave and carved their names (Henderson Cox, Ezra Allen, Daniel Browett) on a nearby tree, thus preserving the grave’s location.
My great, great, great grandfather was Ezra Allen. We hiked up the hillside to the markers and his grave site. Although this is the spot of he original tree, it was moved to the museum in Coloma to protect it from the elements.
I love how this marker invited us to pause. That is just what we did. How grateful I am for my ancestors and the sacrifices they were willing to make. How I appreciate their examples of trusting in God.
Here is the spot where these three men were buried.
After being there for just a few minutes three women walked up the hill. As we began talking with them we discovered that these three sisters and us also, were all there for the same person, Ezra Allen. One of them, Ann Ricks is married to the descendant of Ezra's wife, (Sarah Fiske Allen Rick's second husband, Joel Ricks) the widow of my great, great, great grandfather. Here she and my mom are.
She read aloud the story that I’ve heard many times and will always treasure.
We have from Sarah's diary her writings of her anticipation of Ezra's return to Council Bluffs.
She says, "In the spring of 1848 I began to look forward to the return of my husband...I looked forward to the time when his strong arms would lift these burdens of care from my shoulders. I gathered grapes from the low lands near the river and prepared such dainties as I could that would please him. At length the news came that a company of brethren was expected to cross the river at the ferry in a few days. I felt anxious to go to the ferry to meet him, but circumstances would not permit so I remained home waiting and watching, listening to the sound of every footstep that approached my door. After several days word was brought to me that Ezra had been killed by Indians in California or the Sierra Nevada Mountains...I learned that a purse containing about $120 in gold dust had been found belonging to my husband and it was brought to me. Thus were my hopes and expectations blasted in a moment. What could I do now but trust in God. I had no relative in the church, two small children and a journey of a thousand miles before me...In a few days the purse which had been found containing the gold which had belonged to my husband was brought to me. There were marks of blood upon it and it seemed to me as the price of his life".
In 1851 Sarah exchanged her gold dust for cash and goods to migrate west. She reserved enough gold to make a ring, which she wore all her life. I was pleasantly surprised and brought to tears last June when I found that the gold pouches had been donated and are now on display in the Mormon Battalion Center in Old Town San Diego.
The Spirit of these wonderful ancestors was so strong as our hearts were turned to theirs. The chance of us finding this Tragedy Springs (unmarked, lots of snow), finding all the markers up on the hillside, and meeting these three sisters was not by luck. All things happen for a reason. An additional detail that was fun was that one of Ann’s sisters had bought two booklets that morning at the ranger station, not knowing why at the time. As soon as began visiting she knew she must have bought one to give to my parents. It was a special experience that I’m so grateful we were able to be a part of.
We had a quick snowball fight, after all it was JULY!! So fun for the kids and grandpa!
What a great day!
After lunch we drove towards an area called Tragedy Springs.
It is by Silver Lake (8,000 feet in elevation) where we also found this marker.
My great, great, great grandfather was Ezra Allen. We hiked up the hillside to the markers and his grave site. Although this is the spot of he original tree, it was moved to the museum in Coloma to protect it from the elements.
I love how this marker invited us to pause. That is just what we did. How grateful I am for my ancestors and the sacrifices they were willing to make. How I appreciate their examples of trusting in God.
We have from Sarah's diary her writings of her anticipation of Ezra's return to Council Bluffs.
She says, "In the spring of 1848 I began to look forward to the return of my husband...I looked forward to the time when his strong arms would lift these burdens of care from my shoulders. I gathered grapes from the low lands near the river and prepared such dainties as I could that would please him. At length the news came that a company of brethren was expected to cross the river at the ferry in a few days. I felt anxious to go to the ferry to meet him, but circumstances would not permit so I remained home waiting and watching, listening to the sound of every footstep that approached my door. After several days word was brought to me that Ezra had been killed by Indians in California or the Sierra Nevada Mountains...I learned that a purse containing about $120 in gold dust had been found belonging to my husband and it was brought to me. Thus were my hopes and expectations blasted in a moment. What could I do now but trust in God. I had no relative in the church, two small children and a journey of a thousand miles before me...In a few days the purse which had been found containing the gold which had belonged to my husband was brought to me. There were marks of blood upon it and it seemed to me as the price of his life".
In 1851 Sarah exchanged her gold dust for cash and goods to migrate west. She reserved enough gold to make a ring, which she wore all her life. I was pleasantly surprised and brought to tears last June when I found that the gold pouches had been donated and are now on display in the Mormon Battalion Center in Old Town San Diego.
The Spirit of these wonderful ancestors was so strong as our hearts were turned to theirs. The chance of us finding this Tragedy Springs (unmarked, lots of snow), finding all the markers up on the hillside, and meeting these three sisters was not by luck. All things happen for a reason. An additional detail that was fun was that one of Ann’s sisters had bought two booklets that morning at the ranger station, not knowing why at the time. As soon as began visiting she knew she must have bought one to give to my parents. It was a special experience that I’m so grateful we were able to be a part of.
We had a quick snowball fight, after all it was JULY!! So fun for the kids and grandpa!
The miracle of that whole trip sends shivers up and down my spine. What a wonderful piece of history to be able to verify and to be able to actually meet a descendant of a branch of your family tree. Simply a miracle! Love to all!
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