These folks suffered, physically and emotionally, throughout their sojourn. They lost jobs, loved ones, and portions of themselves, and then trudged through dust, mud, rain, snow, sleet, scorching sun. They didn't know where they would end up, but based on the stories of others who had gone before them, and their desire to follow God's promptings, they marched on, with faith.
They took with them only what they could carry, which wasn't much. They walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. They sang and danced, cried and prayed, praised God, and I'm sure at times, cursed themselves for making the decision to leave the known for the unknown.
They all reached "the end," not really knowing what that meant. They all were dreaming of Utah, that paradise, but reality was much different. At some point their long journey was over, yet those who made it to Utah found that the work had just started. They lost loved ones, limbs, and their own lives. There was no rest, they marched into Utah and still had to till the ground, plant seedlings and trees, build houses, dress themselves, and bare children. Even upon arriving there was no rest.
Salt Lake City as seen from the area where Brigham Young was to
have looked over the valley and said, "This is the place."