Tag Archives: gulag

My Omaha Winter Gulag, Day Three

Day Three: With supplies dwindling, we learn that travelling parties are again being led across the Eppley-Lambert Pass, and we brave frigid temperatures to reach the trailhead. Our party is the first of the day allowed to set out, and we anxiously make our way onward. Upon nearing our destination, we were made to wait interminable minutes while room is made at the Lambert end of the trail (travellers were arriving from all corners of the country). I heartily bade farewell to my fellow journeymen, and completed the rest of the trip while surveying the weather-beaten countryside. There was nothing more exciting to these tired eyes than seeing the homestead coming up over the rise, and reaching the warm embrace of loved ones.
– Rhubarb_Runner


My Omaha Winter Gulag, Day Two

Day Two: The driven snow blowing horizontally across my view mirrors my hopes of making it home being snatched from my grasp. I’ve huddled together with other stranded travellers, and we at least attempt to bolster each other’s spirits. We are extremely rationing our provisions in an attempt to subsist for the indeterminate time we will be here. No information forthcoming as to when the Eppley-Lambert Pass may be opened. News from home also is not good, but they are facing the dangerous weather courageously. Although they try to hide it, I can tell they are only putting up a good front in order to help keep my outlook up. It is not really working…
– Rhubarb_Runner

My Omaha Winter Gulag, Day One

Day One: Rations are low but holding out so far. Weather started wet and cool, but quickly turned to chilly and mixed. I have endeavored to delay transportation home an extra day in hopes that the journey will be safer, but I am now unsure whether provisions will last. Have also procured an additional night of shelter at a local establishment, but spirits are waning as the weather looks to steadily decline. I will attempt to continue these journal entries as a document of my travails here, either as a tribute to my unflagging hope or as a memoir of my miserable last days. Only the good Lord knows which at this time…
– Rhubarb_Runner