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Writer's picturemeowmasherr

Truckee Lake, California November 3rd, 1846 


Things are not going well. When we arrived to Truckee Lake, the snow was to my knees, and within an hour it was at my waist. We spent the night in our wagon, and the next day we built a cabin. Mr. Darcy and a few adults trekked up to Freemont Pass, only to come back claiming the snow was as tall as them. It would be hard to believe if the snow wasn’t as tall as me here at the Lake. This was in October though, and a few days ago some of the adults went back up to check. They came back claiming the snow was even higher… who knows how long we’ll be stuck here. 


Our rations are running low, we still have meat, but still we lose weight as we skip meals. We’ve all resorted to killing what little oxen we had left and small animals we could get our hands on. Recently brother has been looking sickly, and we’re doing our best to take care of him. Sister seems happy about the snow and draws in my notebook to pass time. Mother… misses father. I can see it in her face, in the way her eyes cast down to the ground and how she claps one hand over the other when father is brought up. I’m also missing him, but I’m sure he’s ok. Father used to be a soldier in Virginia, so I bet he’s already in Sacramento waiting for us. 


Hopefully he doesn’t wait for too long, as Mr. Darcy says we might have to stay at Truckee lake for the winter. I’m not incredibly happy, but if Mr. Darcy says we should, then I trust him. Lately I’ve been focused on patching up our old blankets and making new oxen hyde shoes. We’re doing our best to not be wasteful, but it’s hard. 


Hopefully we get out soon, until then.


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