A landmark is tucked back on a bluff, hidden behind trees and bushes. The tall trees shade the long path. From the position I was standing in I swear this path was as vertical as it could possibly get. I stared up at the back breaking path and sighed. This climb would lead me right to the historic site. A gravel parking lot sits at the bottom of the steep hill. Across from the bluff are apartment buildings, but the bluff is mostly surrounded by heavily trafficked roads.  A narrow creek protects the bluff from the rest of the world. A bridge allows patrons to visit it’s neighbor that sits on top of the bluff, the First Bride’s Grave.

Large trees shade the small, steep footpath. The beginning of the path seemed so inviting. Wooden logs had been planted in the ground to create a staircase for visitors. Birds sounded cheerful, almost cartoonish. However my welcoming was short lived. The footpath turned into mud, which left my shoes feeling five pounds heavier than they had been at the beginning of my travels. The sun’s rays just barely peak through the tree branches.  As I continued to make my climb up to the gravesite, I noticed the litter scattered between the scarce plants. Cigarette butts have made this path their playground.

I knew the halfway point was the bench that sits awkwardly on the hill. The bench looks so lonely. It’s placed on a steep incline, off a dirt path, nowhere near anything else.  Awkward or not, as I came up on the seat I couldn’t help but praised the person who did decided to put it here. I could tell, this guy, was smart. As I sat on the bench trying not to black out, I admired the drawings and writings of the previous occupiers.

The half-mile trek was nearly completed when I started to see the edge of the bluff. That’s where the path broke into two trails, one for the adventurer and the other for Rosalie. When I finally managed to climb out of that godforsaken trail I could hardly breath. Black dots obstructed the beautiful view I was attempting to take in, between my very mild breathing spasms. Yes really, the trail is that tough. At the top of the hill I had just successfully climbed I could see straight down the bluff on the other side.  The view consisted of Highway 75, the Missouri River, a sewage plant, and two other roads. Little vehicles zoomed off to there destinations in all different directions. I could hear a rushing noise which I assumed was a combination of the wind and the cars, but it very well could have been the sound of my heart trying it’s hardest not to explode. This noise sounded so powerful, it almost sounded like the strong current coming from the Missouri River, but the distance was too far. The sound was consuming, I felt as if I were actually part of the forest, just another tree. The wind could almost pick me up off my feet. I felt like the Disney version of Pocahontas with my hair blowing chaotically in the wind.

Just several yards further sat my destination. I arrived on the gravesite several minutes later. The First Bride’s Grave sat on the bluff peacefully, almost forgotten. It sat on the top of the bluff, protected by the trees, bushes, and creek. The cream colored stone must have been replaced; the tombstone was in pristine condition. A gray colored moss clung to the pale  stone, which was its only blemish. A tall, white metal gate surrounded the grave. A three feet perimeter blocked off the tall, narrow tombstone from the rest of the world. Carved into the front of the tombstone was “Dedicated in memory of Rosalie Menard Sioux City’s First Bride. Born 1838 A.D. Died 1865 A.D.” On the back of the tombstone was a list of names carved into the stone, naming the people involved in the renovation. The ground outside of the gate had been trampled by visitors repeatedly, only dirt remained. This was the only sign that Rosalie still had visitors.

After I finished my hike to Rosalie’s grave, I sat and chatted with my mom at her house. My mom reminisced about the family trips we had taken to visit the First Bride’s Grave. She said “Our family has always enjoyed hiking up to that site.” She was right. We had always enjoyed the peaceful scenery, no matter how crappy the walk was to get there. The harmonious site where Rosalie lay is worth the hassle.