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Sights Along the Trail by Mark Hatmaker



 [All excerpts taken from Over the Chihuahua and Santa Fe trails, 1847-1848: George Rutledge Gibson's Journal

George Rutledge was born in Virginia around 1810. He later studied law and opened a law office in Vincennes, Indiana, in 1834. During the early 1840s he moved his practice to Weston, Missouri.

He also tried his hand at journalism, that is, publishing his own newspapers, both of these ventures failed, perhaps so for his law practice as well for when the Mexican War started, Gibson volunteered and was elected a second lieutenant.

He was part of Colonel Stephen Watts Kearny's Army of the West, which left Fort Leavenworth for the occupation of New Mexico in 1846. He later became assistant quartermaster and commissary and accompanied Colonel Alexander Doniphan's forces to El Paso and Chihuahua, seeing action at the Battle of Brazito on 25 December 1846 and the Battle of Sacramento on 28 February 1847.

The first section of Gibson's journal begins when he left Chihuahua in April 1847. During the one-month journey, Gibson provided descriptions of the land and people and the several hardships he encountered. The second section of the journal details his eight-hundred-mile trip from Santa Fe to Fort Leavenworth beginning in April 1848, after his stay of about one year in Santa Fe. Again, Gibson recorded his adventures, impressions, and feelings along the way.

As per usual, Men and Women who have lived many lives are almost invariably interesting.

Picture the following eerie sight. The reality rivals anything in Cormac McCarthy’s nightmare lands in Blood Meridian.

Monday, April 5th

We took a long rest at the stone corral in the bottom, where there are some cottonwoods, and then rode over the field which covers the intermediate ground between the mountains and is very extensive. The stench from the dead carcasses both of men and animals made our stay much shorter than it would have been, nor was the spectacle of the kind calculated to kindle our antipathys or resentments, for the skeletons of our Enemies were strewed over the ground, having been dragged out of their graves by the wolves, great numbers of which we saw even in the daytime. They had eaten all the flesh off, but the bones were very offensive, human flesh of all others creating the most disgusting smell. This animal seems to relish it above all others, for they dug them out of the Redoubts and left the dead oxen, horses and mules almost untouched. There are still many marks of the conflict, but everything of the least value has been carried away.

[I offer the following far more sedate counterpoint as showing the Frontier’s reverence for Books—the capitalization of Book is Mr. Gibson’s choice. The West was a literature hungry society. The novel mentioned was a new one on me, I have since acquired it and am enjoying the read. It always rewards to nourish with what those of yore nourished with.

Saturday, April 10th

The day was as pleasant as could be wished for and having determined to remain all night to recruit our animals we spent the evening reading, Mr. Hoffman having brought for his own use several Books. Agnes Serle by Mrs. Pickering fell to my share, which I found interesting and it was quite a novelty to sit down in the wilds on the banks of a clear spring branch and read one of the latest and most fashionable novels of the day. They want of Books to read at our leisure moments has been a source of greater annoyance since we first came into the country, a vexation which has to be experienced to appreciate.

[The final 10 words in the following are the Wise moral here. Many of us would be happier if would but embrace this philosophical stiffness of soul.]

Wednesday, May 5h

I found that there had been no mail since February and I determined to await the arrival of one, the state of things being such as to require it, consequently the traders go on without me. I was in hopes I should find several letters in the office but there were none and I have to put up with what I can't help.

[Another eerie scene—92 mule heads double bordering the trail. Good Lord!]

May 10th

We made an early start, the road leading down the valley and we found it very sandy. In 6 miles we reached the Willow Bar which is nothing but a bank 3 feet high, with water occasionally in a Pool, and not a single willow to be seen, if ever any grew there. A short distance this side we passed a formidable row of 92 mule heads placed in double-line which Mr Spire lost in one night in 1844 in a snow storm, frozen to death.

[One more curious event, there is so much more story here, and yet in an eventful life the following merits a mere single paragraph in a journal entry.]

Wednesday, May 7h

We have in company a strange customer, no other than a woman in mans clothes. She enlisted in Col. Gilpins Battalion and performed all her duties as a soldier, nor was her sex suspected until it is she disclosed it herself. There is nothing in her appearance suspicious as she mixes with the Teamsters as one of them, and smokes, chews and acts like the man. Her sex being discovered she was sent back to the States by this train and furnishes rough jokes daily for these men of hardy habits. She has not yet laid aside mans clothes.

To those who Dare to Live Many Lives!

Resources for Livin’ the Warrior Life

The Black Box Warehouse

https://www.extremeselfprotection.com/

The Indigenous Ability Blog

https://indigenousability.blogspot.com/

The Rough ‘n’ Tumble Raconteur Podcast

https://anchor.fm/mark-hatmaker

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