My second day of riding concluded at the southern banks of the confluence of the Tennessee and Hiawassee Rivers. The Blythe Ferry was the way in which many of the detachments crossed these mighty rivers.
Getting 1,000 people, several hundred horses, and a few hundred wagons across the river was no easy matter and often took several days. The Cherokee camped on both sides of the river during this time. To make matters worse, several sources reported that the locals stole horses and provisions from the Cherokee as they camped here. What insensitivity.
The lands south of these rivers were Cherokee homelands. Lands north of these rivers were historically Cherokee as well but “ownership” had been transferred through several treaties over the course of about 100 years. Poets and artists have depicted the farewell that the Cherokee people may have made to their native homelands many times over. I’d like to share some of these here, but I need to respect the artists’ property.
I felt the enormity of this crossing myself. I spent the night in my tent near the ridge and ducked inside just as the heavy rains began to fall. I slept uneasily and rested very little. I awoke before dawn, bathed in the river, loaded my wet gear, rode out, and never looked back.
Atone The Removal 