Tuesday, July 28, 2009

JJ Ranch South of Stanley ID


Standing in the Salmon River, it was hard to believe that the sun would not be setting on a longer undammed river in the nation. The salmon slides in a hush behind JJ Ranch in the Sawtooth Valley. Despite the state road running north to south, the valley retains a wild western character. My first time through pronghorn antelope loped through roadside sage brush and from where are small fire was in front of JJ Ranch's cabin we could see two hefty mule deer bucks on the ridge, the spread of their racks revealed through binoculars. By the time I crawled into my sleeping bag the temp. was surely in the low forties, I had my winter hat on the first time since being in Duluth, and through the tent screen the milky way stretched from each horizon, so bright in spots it seemed a cloud had slipped in front of the moon. I met Ben, the ranch caretaker, in a bar in Stanley while waiting for Ben from Portland to arrive in town. Turns out the two Bens knew one another and we found ourselves roasting marshmallows, playing harmonica and paying homage to the Maker's Mark.





Fall Creek Trail



In the Pioneer Mountains beyond the summit of Trail Creek, finding other backcountry travelers is anything but common. Sure the trail is used, but on a random Sunday in July I never met a soul. Not only was the area a little out there but I chose the alternate trail. The road less traveled turned out to be a three mile bushwhack through lodgepole pine and rocky sandbars as I followed Fall Creek. Here and there an elk trail materialized and I could have a several yards of easy going. My destination was Moose Lake, reached by a series of swithbacks that stole my breath before thunder and lightning forced me to abandon the effort. The hike was not without its views though.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The View from Hailey Idaho

They've bloomed unnaturally in the high desert sun, a second spring of yellow ribbons along main street holding fast in the canyon winds. Bright yellow signs have appeared in store front windows like reflections off main street reading "Bring Bowe Home" or "Get Bowe Back." This time it wasn't the descension of the uber elite, or a frenzy of fans suffocating Lebron James, but a small town guy plucked by the Taliban that parked the satellite trucks in town.

I write in the coffee shop now as if seeking shelter from a storm. Framed in the plate glass window of Zaney's coffee house are cameras, tripods, microphones, extension cords and reflective flash shields, as if it were picture day at a high school. The familiar boredom of a story in limbo surrounds the press folk, milling about their humming trucks, sucking down coffee, one foot in the passenger side one on the dirt.

Hailey's reaction has been one of solidarity, awe, and measured response. For a town used to shrugging its shoulders at the antics of Sun Valley, the wealthy cousin to the North, you would be tempted to think attentions might last as long as the roar of a private jet coming in for the Allentown meeting. But this is a home town boy, held captive in a land that may as well be Mars. Seeing the ribbons trembling in a mirage of heat, I wonder what can you do? Do we march on Afghanistan? Do we create a stir, turn ourselves into a caricature of the small town pleading for the return of its sons and daughters? No. Instead the family of Bowe has taken a track revealing they're no stranger to the news. They've decided to remain unidentified, releasing no comments, no video pleas, no CNN interviews. They've opted out of anything that may confound the matter. How can you blame them? The people of Hailey know there's a much bigger world beyond the sagebrush hills, a world tough to affect. In a nation that has seen it all before, reacted with every aspect of outrage and grief, maybe keeping quiet, letting yellow do the talking, is the latest weapon in an increasingly tired fight.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Sawtooth Mountains







Bodacious and abrasive, the Sawtooth range erupts in a chaotic splash of glaciated rock well above the Salmon River. Flats of lodgepole pine climb gently to the foot of granite cliffs , sheared to knife edged ridges and ragged spires. My climb to Sawtooth lake was a popular one for good reason. A ten mile round trip was perfect in this range.











Sawtooth Lake is the post card image you'll sweat for. Although the mosquitoes at the lake during lunch were phenomenally bad, the view held it all in check. This is the biggest lake in the mountain range and the central peak is framed by bulky peaks my camera couldn't capture.


Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Trail Creek Canyon



Saturday evening, after tabling for the Ketchum Garden Tour, where well to do folks oggle a string of gardens on a planned route, I headed for Trail Creek canyon for a short hike. Possibly more impressive than the hike was the drive up the long canyon on a sinuous, washboarded road, dropping to impressive depths, laughing at the thought of guardrails.