Day 1 – 6/24/23
This is going to be a long trip. We have several goals of things to see and do along the way. Ultimately, we’ll be in Maine to see Debbie’s sister and brother-in-law. But there’s a lot of the USA in between Grass Valley, CA and Maine so, here we go. First stop, Reno, Nevada. Being only about two hours from our house, Reno isn’t an overly ambitious destination for our first day of travel, but we have some very good friends who live there and we aim to see them. Planning to leave home in the early
6/25/23 Spent yesterday driving to and spending time with Hall and his son, Andrew. Caroline came later bearing an incredible strawberry pie with an almond crust and a fresh loaf of sourdough bread. Hall made eggplant Parmesan. Debbie and I just kibbitzed and helped set up and clean up. Actually, Debbie made a salad. Hall’s new house is pretty. Great light, good size and good-sized rooms. The whole house isn’t really big, but the way it’s laid out makes it feel quite ample. I realized yesterday that I’d failed to pack my walking shoes, so today after breakfast, we drove to REI and I found some returned shoes for about half their regular price. They’re Ultras, and I think they’ll do me well. We began our day’s driving adventure hoping to get near Payette, Idaho, but we weren’t sure how to get there – drive to Elko, then north into Idaho was our first idea. Then a friend told us that Elko was having a locust infestation, that the roads were covered and everything else. So, we opted to drive to Winnemucca and then north to eastern Oregon and then to Idaho. We fell short of our goal by a few hours, ultimately holing up in Rome Station, Oregon, a small place that I’m not sure really exists except that it cost me $15.23 to spend the night in their RV park. It included electrical and water hook-ups. Of course, it was raining pretty steadily so I was not inclined to go plug in in the rain. The rain began in earnest shortly after we crossed from Nevada to Oregon and continued albeit sporadically for several hours. 6/26/03 Day 3: drove from Rome to our camp here on the Little Salmon River about 35 miles southish of Grangeville, Idaho. Started the day with a breakfast at our stop for the previous night, Rome Station. We met and talked some to the woman who owns it and runs it. She greeted and seated us, took our order, cooked the food, took our money, answered our questions and most likely did the dishes. We were the only patrons in the café at the time. It was early, about 7 or a little after. We both had fried eggs, bacon, Debbie had an English muffin and I sourdough toast that only lacked for sourness. I also had hash browns which Debbie forwent. We also both had coffee. We commented to the proprietress that the coffee was good. She gave a little smile and said, “It’s Folger’s.” Debbie also bought two huge cookies, one double chocolate and the other peanut butter. They were delicious, among the best cookies I’ve ever had. I hadn’t held out much hope of good cookieness, their size leading me to believe they would be doughy or floury or tasteless and get stale a half hour later. But none of those ideas proved to be true. They were great. I suppose the do-it-all woman who owned the place also made the cookies. She told us that the place had been built in 1938 by her grandparents and had been in her family since. We don’t know who remains in her family besides her. She told us that the place was named for “The Pillars of Rome,” a natural geologic formation approximating the look of Roman pillars. She said that there was also a Roman Coliseum but that it was on private property so not available to the general public for visiting. When I asked how to get to the pillars, she described a tortuous route down a dirt road a ways, a few turns and an end point some distance from where we were talking. I begged off since we wanted to get on the road for our third day of chasing a look at Glacier National Park. Besides, it had rained quite a bit the day and night before, and I didn’t want to deal with a muddy, rutted road and what it might bring. So, off we went in VinnieVanDog on State Hwy 95, bound for Grangeville where we planned to head eastward on Hwy 12 through the mountains to Missoula, Montana. From there, we’d arc northward to the Glacier Park area. We have no reservations anywhere, and we know that Glacier is infamously crowded and limited by the rangers there in how many folks they’ll allow in. A man I know, Rob, went there two years ago and told me that without reservations, you couldn’t get in except before 6 a.m. or after 5 p.m. We were going to go anyway, but fires in Alberta and unfortunate wind made visibility less than ideal in the park. In fact, we went through Montana thinking we might have some luck, and we did, but it was bad. We stayed at a KOA one night, and the next morning, I couldn’t see the restroom building that was a mere 50 yards away from our van for the smoke. But we’ve been checking, and although there are again fires in Alberta, they haven’t impacted the air terribly in Glacier – yet. Currently, we’re at least a day’s drive away from our goal. After driving over 5 hours, we became road weary and determined to stop at the first place along the Little Salmon River where it was legal to camp. We found a US Forest Service site that allowed camping. Here we are.
The Little Salmon is a beautiful river that carved its way between two ranges of mountains along Hwy 95. Or maybe Hwy 95 was built along the valley the river carved. Hmmm. Anyway, it’s stunning. We took the turn-off for our Forest Service site and found a lovely picnic area with toilet facilities and a little lower, a small campground with 5 sites. Only one was occupied. We took another with a view of the river that is about 150 feet away. The campground is also at least 50 feet below road level, so traffic noise is significantly diminished. Right now, we hear the wind in the trees, the chirping of little birdies and only rarely does the roar of a semi’s engines laboring up the hwy enter our hearing-scape. The water is cold and clear, and it swirls and eddies as it makes its way downstream. And it cost us $5!! For folks who aren’t seniors and for seniors who haven’t yet taken the time to get an “America the Beautiful National Park and Federal Recreational Lands Pass,” it would cost a staggering $10. We have our pass. Such a deal. In the late afternoon we were alone. The other campers (who actually work for the Forest Service) were gone presumably working. No travelers ventured down the hill to partake of the solitude and beauty at the bottom. So we bathed in the icy waters, washing off the day’s dirt and sweat. Mesa likewise immersed herself then did a zoomie shortly thereafter. We dined on ground turkey with spices and beans with salsa and avocado and chips and beer and wine and now just sit under a slowly darkening sky listening to the wind, the water and the occasional truck, hoping more days like this will come our way.
