Sarah Goode Marshall left her abusive husband and crossed the plains, entering the Salt Lake Valley in 1856 as a single woman with six young children. One-hundred-fifty-two years and one day later her weather-beaten great-grandson exited the same canyon, entering the same valley to be greeted with the same welcoming treat of fresh watermelon.

Lynn "Doc" Cleland left Iowa City on June 9, and pulled a handcart an estimated 1,400 miles westward in tribute to his far-removed grandmother. Marshall is believed to be the first handcart pioneer to enter the valley, a point Cleland and the 50 or so fellow descendants who met him at This Is the Place Heritage Park in Salt Lake City on Saturday are proud of.

"I guarantee my grandmother was helping pull the entire time," he said. "If it wasn't for my grandmother, I couldn't have done what I did."

Cleland, who lives in Highland, Utah, had a handcart made to the specifications Brigham Young detailed. He wore period-clothing -- going so far as to have prescription sunglasses made with blue lenses similar to the pair Brigham Young is said to have worn. He slept in a tent on the side of the road, ate a 12-ounce ration of flour each day or bartered and traded with the locals he met in the towns he passed through. Cleland tried to follow the same trail the pioneers took when permitted, but when it entered private property he stuck to the side of the road.

Whether on asphalt or in the brush, he focused on his motto, "faith greater than pain."



Setting out, Cleland didn't know just how severe that pain could be until he had walked a few hundred miles and confronted several illnesses along the way.

He contracted liver problems in Wyoming, an unknown serious infection in Nebraska, carpal tunnel in Iowa, and hernias and blisters that stayed with him every step of his journey. He was hospitalized at one point with a condition he said some of his doctors feared was necrotizing fasciitis, more commonly known as flesh-eating bacteria. Fortunately, it wasn't, but "when you're a science experiment at the hospital, that's not good."

He's convinced, as are some of the doctors who treated him, that if he had lived in 1856, he wouldn't have survived the Mormon Trail.

Ailments aside, the most arduous part of the trail was the first part of Iowa, where he encountered rolling hills for two weeks strait.

"Whoever said Iowa is flat never walked it," he said.

In his 110 days, he not once had a good night's sleep, he said. It rained in parts of the Midwest, and he encountered storms with extremely high winds. One storm collapsed his tent and sent him rolling, he said, and he feared he wouldn't make it out alive. Cleland said that the weather was just as bad as the noisy trains, since the railroad follows the Mormon Trail for about two states. The whistles were so loud and relentless, it was almost pointless to try to rest, he said.

"I can tell you the patterns, I can tell you that as many as 90 trains a night come through some of these towns," he said.

Cleland had to thank friends and fellow descendants who drove pilot cars in front of and behind him for safety and to keep an eye on his health and water intake. Also along for the journey was his terrier Bessie, who "walked a long ways" with him.

Cleland regularly typed up journal entries on a laptop, which he'd email to his brother when he'd get service, who would then post them on his blog, www.faithgreaterthanpain.wordpress.com.

He was introduced to many fellow descendants through the Web site, including Beverly Williams, who traveled with him for a few days.

Williams, 71, walked for two days with Cleland in Wyoming, crossing the treacherous hill known as Rocky Ridge. Williams and her husband served missions at both the Willie and the Martin handcart sites, telling youths all about the pioneers, and ever since she's wanted to have her own experience.

"(It was) a dream come true. I got the most precious blisters and legs so stiff I couldn't walk for a week, and that's what I went for. I wanted my grandma to know that I cared that she had done that," Williams said. "And I know that it wasn't the long pull, but I got the taste that I'd wanted for five years."

Another descendant and friend of Cleland's, Gregory Phillips, walked with him for a few days, and said he was amazed by how committed his friend was to being authentic. Phillips said that at one point, Cleland announced that some pioneers didn't have shoes, so he took off his own and walked barefoot for two miles to better understand.

The longer he went, the more the more that understanding deepened and the more he began to resemble his forebears. By the time he set foot at This Is the Place, he had lost 48 pounds and had grown an impressive beard.

Now that he's home, he plans to immediately begin writing a book about his journey to be titled "Faith Greater than Pain." He also wants to speak to youth groups about having convictions as strong as the pioneers'. He said his journey was far less treacherous than the hardships the pioneers faces, but even so, he learned volumes about pioneers, who he felt helping him all the while.

I feel the comfort of those who have passed on, they have all been a part of this trek," he said. He said he especially felt of his wife's spirit and strength during the journey. She died 11 years ago from Lou Gehrig's Disease.

Cleland said in addition to sharing his story, he was looking forward to a stay at the Salt Lake Marriott Hotel, where he planned to shut all the blinds, lock all the doors, and finally get some rest.