Bill Earngey

From 1830 to c.1900, an estimated 300,000 people traveled 4 to 5 months along this 2,020-mile route; 30,000 of them are still buried beside it.

  The trail began in Independence, Westport, and St. Joseph, Mo., and ended at the Pacific Ocean. It was followed by families who wanted a new life, free land or the thrill of an adventure that promised rewards described only vaguely by their imaginations.

  Outside events also drove them. Two economic depressions (1837; 1842) helped begin a steady stream of Oregon-bound emigrants, which turned into a flood after the 1849 California gold rush.

  By the 1850s, maps were unnecessary because travelers could either follow the wagon ruts or their noses, which was a coarse joke told to soften the reality of a perpetual stench from dead animals, garbage, and open latrines lining the entire length of the trail.

  Women's diaries of the trail's early years are frank about this so-called adventure across 2,020 miles of prairies, mountains, deserts and rivers. Few Indian battles or acts of bravery are recounted. More men were shot by mistake than killed by Indians. More people died from mundane accidents and cholera than from heroic deeds.

  Women's diaries are also filled with accounts of the tedious, repetitive daily tasks of trying to make or break camp while tending the stock, the children, the sick and the dying; of cooking in sheets of rain, choking dust storms and plagues of mosquitoes; of days without water, nights without sleep and food without taste but plenty of sand.

  Men, women and children walked or rode all day through torrential rain, blistering sun or numbing cold. They forded or floated countless rivers and creeks, and witnessed marriages, births and deaths while keeping the pace of putting one foot in front of the other.

  In the early years, those who reached Oregon found little comfort. Few arrived with possessions, money or food. The rich new land was vast and wild and without home or hearth or hope for any soon.

  Yet despite all the hardships and losses, the letters sent back East glowed with such exaggerated praise for this new country that true believers kept rolling westbound in what seemed like a never-ending wagon train jammed end-to-end between the Missouri and Columbia rivers.