Sarah Cannon Handsaker

A Trail Delicacy - 1854

Sixteen year old Sarah Johnson Cannon looked down at her dusty brown bare feet as she walked alongside her family’s sluggish wagon train as it plodded along over the Oregon Trail. At the pace of 2 miles per hour, it felt to Sarah that this place called Oregon might as well be on the other side of the world. Just getting to Independence Rock was taking long enough.

This Fourth of July promised to be memorable if the Cannon’s wagon train could reach its destination on time. According to the guidebooks, arriving at Independence Rock by the Fourth of July meant that they were advancing on schedule, and that’s exactly what they planned to do.

The very identifiable mammoth outcropping of rock was said to be impossible to miss. When Sarah noticed an isolated lump on the horizon miles down the road, she knew she had spotted it. As the caravan pulled closer to the ever-growing chunk of granite, a collective sense of excitement pulsed through the emigrants. Soon the festivities could begin.

The Sweetwater River, running alongside Independence Rock, was an ideal spot for a layover. In the distance Sarah could see that many caravans were encamped there. Buffalo and grizzly bears could be seen in the vicinity as well, yet Sarah Cannon and her brothers barely took notice of them. All eyes were fixed on the giant, lopsided rock, which the guidebook had calculated to be 193 feet tall at the north end and 167 feet tall at the south end. Sarah just stood there with her mouth gaping open as she took in its size.

People were climbing up Independence Rock to carve their names or initials on its surface, and the surrounding area was bustling with activity. Clearly the Cannons weren’t the only ones who were looking forward to celebrating the Fourth of July in style. Everyone was in a festive mood. The wagons encamped along the bank of the Sweetwater River displaced either an American flag or a facsimile of one.

Then there was the music. Fiddlers were fiddlin’ right in the middle of the day. Some happy-go-lucky emigrants engaged in a lively square dance, and children were frolicking and splashing about in the river. Among the peals of laughter and spirited conversations could be heard the rising voices of self-pronounced orators giving patriotic speeches amid circles of interested emigrants. The entire scene resembled a town gathering.

To Sarah’s surprise, as her eyes rose above the commotion and scanned Independence Rock to its pinnacle, she saw precariously perched on the summit what looked like a covered wagon and a tent. Closer examination revealed them to be so. There, atop Independence Rock for all to see, was an emigrant’s wagon. Its owner was in the process of making and selling apple pies. Dried apple pies! Quite the unexpected and delectable treat this far from Sarah’s home in Clinton, Iowa. It made Sarah giggle to think that two-fifths of the way into her cross-country journey, some 830 miles from civilization, there was this bakery of sorts. Sarah certainly admired the “baker’s” entrepreneurial spirit, but she marveled even more at just how this wagon had gotten to the very top. It was amazing enough that the emigrants themselves could climb up the sides of Independence Rock on foot, but hoisting a heavy wagon up so high was even harder to imagine.

To make the Fourth of July a bit more celebratory, many a cook had been saving something special to dish up. Everyone was weary of the trail diet of salt pork, hardtack bread, bacon, and beans, so the addition of a delectable apple dessert was the perfect complement to an Independence Day feast. Sarah remarked, “No doubt this was the most elevated ‘pie counter’ of any of that time from the Missouri River to Portland.”

Carefree and happy moments, no matter how small, were not taken for granted along the trail. Sarah enjoyed the opportunity that day to talk and share experiences with other young girls her age. The hardships of traveling and living out-of-doors, the lack of provisions on the trail, and the universal homesickness were more tolerable when shared with others. The festivities and the “pie wagon” made for an enjoyable and memorable day at Independence Rock in July of 1854 for Sarah and every other emigrant looking for excitement.

These early pioneers had come to settle and tame a land called Oregon by migrating westward along the Oregon Trail. Two years after arriving in southern Oregon, just before her nineteenth birthday, Sarah wed twenty-five-year-old Sam Handsaker, who had emigrated a year ahead of the Cannon family. Together they and their eight children worked hard to forge a life for themselves out of the wilderness. Perhaps every time Sarah served apple pie on subsequent Independence Days she thought of the one she had enjoyed at the “elevated pie counter” along the Oregon Trail.