The Questions Begin

I told you from the outset that part of the reason I want to ride the Nez Perce Trail is to seek answers to the questions that arise from its history. In general research, I stumbled across one of these questions -- or rather, an example of my reason for asking said question:

Chief Joseph's surrender speech is the most famous evidence of his character and eloquence. In case you skipped that page in your history book, I've reproduced the familiar lines below:

"Tell General Howard I know his heart. What he told me before, I have it in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed; Looking Glass is dead, Too-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say yes or no. He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets; the little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."

I was irritated (but not altogether surprised) to discover a reference stating that these words are "attributed" to Chief Joseph, but were actually penned by Lieutenant Charles Erskine Scott Wood. It seems Wood was present at the surrender and claimed to have transcribed Chief Joseph's speech on the spot, but his original, handwritten report from that day instead includes a note in the margin reminding, "Here insert Joseph's reply to the demand for surrender."

I have yet to trace this claim to a more reliable source, but it gives me reason to doubt. Perhaps it isn't true. Perhaps it is true, but Wood had an exceptional memory for language and was able to render Joseph's speech faithfully even after the fact. Perhaps Wood, who later expressed talent as a poet, embellished Joseph's words for popular consumption. (It seems likely to me that he got the gist of Joseph's message right, as the two men maintained a friendship for years afterwards.)

Anyway, my point is this: I do not trust history as it is spoon fed to us in school. Oh, I doubt many of our teachers intended to mislead us. It is likely that most textbook authors were likewise innocent (if ignorance can be considered innocence, particularly when it claims authority). Indeed, I have almost certainly made false claims, albeit unwittingly, in this very blog.

But someone, at some point, willfully misrecorded history for his own ends. Perhaps it was done early on, as in the supposed case of Wood's poetic translation of Joseph's speech. Perhaps it happened later, to put a political spin on modern understanding of historical events. I am not the first to observe that to control the education of children is to control the direction of a society.

Nor am I the first to agree with George Santayana that "those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." But what, exactly, are we to learn? What are we otherwise doomed to repeat? Much of the history we have been taught as truth is merely the romanticized result of a decades-long game of Telephone, heavily warped by the influence of human nature.

Take the Nez Perce War: Chief Joseph and his people = Good. U.S. Cavalry and white settlers = Bad. Right? That's what they taught me in school.

Anyway, the Nez Perce War is only a case study. The question toward which I'm leading is rather larger. We'll get to that.

Friends in the Business

I've been in touch with the Long Riders Guild.

True to the honorable image portrayed by the Guild's website, founder CuChullaine O'Reilly replied to my initial inquiry in less than a day. Though he was traveling between meetings in Europe, his message was both gracious and full of promised guidance.

I've spent a great deal of time on the aforementioned website, and would recommend it to anyone. The quote below sums up the Guild well:

As Long Riders we categorically believe equestrian travel has no frontiers, political or otherwise. It is the heritage of every nation. Though we individually originate in every imaginable country, we as a group represent no specific nation. We will not be simplified by categories into sex, creed, allegiance to one horse breed, or lines drawn on a map. We are comrades of the saddle whose agreed upon international language is "horse." We believe the only valid definition of a Long Rider should be courage in the face of danger, resolve in the presence of hardship, and continual compassion for our horses.

Further, we acknowledge the inherent bodily perils involved in equestrian travel to both horse and rider. Yet we in no way condone or sponsor any expedition that knowingly subjects its mounts to needless suffering. The Long Riders' Guild has no obsession with mileage. Though our members have set an assortment of world records during the course of their equestrian travels, we do not encourage a needless quest for kilometers, nor the lightning flash crossing of continents. We encourage our members instead to undertake a life-changing equestrian journey that explores not only the unknown portions of the world, but their own souls as well. Indeed, being a Long Rider is more than just a matter of miles. It is a question of honour, dignity and behaviour.

Ah. That is the sort of creed to which I can subscribe. It's nice to know there remain such people on this earth; I expect this journey will reveal many more.

And, methinks Chief Joseph would approve.

Oh, The Places We Will Go

I've always been a bit of a history buff. (It's genetic. Blame my dad.)

Naturally, when my friend Spartacus Jones put me onto the idea of a long ride, I knew that not just any 1,000 mile trek would do. I wanted to retrace history.

The Oregon Trail came to mind. That, however, is not terribly original. It is also very long. Plenty of longriders have made 2,000 mile journeys, of course, but they must have had more time and money at their disposal than I.

I thought again.

A bit of web surfing revealed scores of possiblities. The one that caught my eye was the Nez Perce Trail. At 1,170 miles, it's long enough to meet Long Riders Guild standards (I confess that I hope to someday be worthy of the honor of a membership invitation). It's in my corner of the country, which makes it more practicable than, say, the Wilderness Road. It offers a pleasant blend of wilderness and rural landscape.

More importantly, the Nez Perce Trail bleeds history -- almost literally. This is the path of Chief Joseph's historic retreat from the U.S. Army in 1877, when he fled with his people in an effort to keep peace with the whites while refusing to sign a treaty that would drastically reduce Nez Perce lands.

But the story is not so simple as that. The Nez Perce Trail is littered with with heroes slain, with villians triumphant and innocents lost, with betrayal and chicanery and revenge -- but also with courage and wisdom, perhaps even hope.

It holds questions, too, for me. Come, we will ask them together.

Trailhead

Oh, dear.
I have an idea.
Another idea. A big one.
When I get big ideas, they turn into big dreams.
And when I have big dreams, I always make them come true.

I want to be a long rider. I want to know what it is to ride day upon day, mile upon mile, until I am my horse and he is me, until the pace of Earth absorbs us, until we learn to see each place and person plainly. Until we meet ourselves.

1,170 miles ought to do it.

(I'm sorry, Honey. Want to come?)