I'm standing on the side of a road that runs through the prairie between Las Vegas, NM and Fort Union. As I survey the area in all directions I realize there are only two people in about 20 square miles...me and my buddy, Geraint. The wind is whipping the prairie grass hard enough to make it rattle and there is a storm moving in. The two old buildings in the distance look like toy houses under the mass of clouds gathering overhead.
The ruts you see in the field were made by covered wagons traveling the Santa Fe Trail over 150 years ago. Imagine being on that trail with your family. All of your possessions are in that 4' x 12' wooden box with a canvas top. It's creaking and squeaking as you bounce along the trail and you're headed into the teeth of this storm. The horses are getting skittish and this will be the third time in a week that you and everything you own has gotten soaked. There is no cover and you are at the mercy of the elements. Aaahh...the good old days.
Today, when the storm gets closer, we get back into the black Dodge Charger the rental company gave me and crank up the Sirius XM radio. Fortunately, the horses under my hood aren't skittish and in a few minutes we have put some distance between ourselves and the bad weather. We have options the pioneers didn't. There are a lot of folks I know who have storage places much larger than 4' x 12' to keep things they don't have room for at home.
The difference between pioneers and settlers is that settlers wait to hear the pioneers say, "It's safe. You can come up here now."