Friday I pick up Brian at 9am. Next stop CycleGear in Fairfield for a goggle lense. Now we’re ready. Last week a record-long heatwave encouraged fires in Washington, Oregon, and California. Progress fighting the fires has improved the air quality by the end of the week in Idaho, just in time for our trip. But first we need to drive by the Mosquito Fire on 80 and through Reno where the air quality is 500. The scale on Purple Air only goes to 300 which is described as extremely hazardous, so what is 500 — almost dead? The blue sky returns in Oregon and we pass into Mountain Time. We reach Jordan Valley by 8pm. The only place for food is a convenience store, where I get a small can of baked beans to eat along with the apple and peanut butter I have. At least there’s some weak wifi at the motel.
The gas station is busy in the morning. Jordan Valley must be a crossroads for many people: truckers, ranchers, and tourists. We load up the bikes and park Vanna where Jim suggested — in front of the box trailer and next to the flat bed truck. Then into Idaho to the Owyhee Mountains we head. Layers of mountains cut by canyons, with rock peaking out, and adorned with juniper pine. Eventually we reach sage brush territory.
After encountering numerous locked gates, a group of hunters informs us that the gates are locked for hunting season. Some land owners charge people to hunt on their land, so they lock their gates. We need to detour to Highway 78. At Fossil Creek trailhead we have lunch and get on some single track towards Silver City. It starts off with deep sand, but gets a bit firmer with sections of loose rock. When the single track runs out, we take 4×4 road. One becomes a dry creek bed with large rocks, so we find another one that runs along a creek. This one has smaller rocks, but they’re wet.
After a dozen creek crossings we take shelter as a thunder storm passes. A couple dozen more water crossings before we reach the 2wd road. It’s getting late. We won’t make it to Silver City. We need to get to our camp spot. There’s a huge rainbow in the sky. Yellow daisies grow on the side of the road. Back to Highway 78 to Murphy, then into the Morley Nelson Snake River Birds of Prey National Conservation Area. The fertile soil of the Snake River supports a large number of ground squirrels, which a variety of raptors feed on. The most unusual is the density of prairie falcons in this stretch of the Snake. That is what prompted the designation of the Natural Conservation Area. The canyon is volcanic rock covered in lichen and dirt. We find a camp spot near the river. It’s sandy, with sand so fine that the wind occasionally blows it into my tent. I finish setting up just in time for the rain to start again. When it stops we have dinner and a fire. Rough rocky riding has formed a blood blister under one of my callouses on my left palm.
Sunday morning I do some bird watching. I don’t know much about birds. There are big birds and small birds — one all white medium sized bird. We head into town. The sage brush becomes agricultural fields: corn, sod, stacks of hay blocks, rows of fertilizer mounds next to cow pens, goats, and solar panels. Next we head into the Danskin Mountains. These are based on lava rock too. Lunch at an OHV trailhead with trails only for motorcycles. It’s getting warm so I take off some layers and find out that the pain in my left arm is from a big bruise – probably from when gravity threw a rock at me the day before.
When we reach the top we see there’s a deep, narrow canyon rimmed with lava rock on the other side cut by the South Fork of the Boise River.
We drop down 400′ to a bridge and cross to the other side, climbing back up to the edge. The view on this side is just as beautiful as the other side. Eventually we pass the dam and the river becomes a reservoir. At the far end of the reservoir we head into the Soldier Mountains. These are based on granite. Large chunks line Grouse Creek. We have a hard time finding a camp spot. This forest is full of hunters. We go down a rough road and find a neglected single track that takes us to a meadow by the creek. We hear elk whistling in the evening. Some time during the day my blood blister popped and drained.
Monday is a long riding day. The trail I was planning on going down is too technical for our two loaded bikes, so we need to back track. The alternate route has a road closure, so we go back all the way to the asphalt road. It soon becomes a nice dirt road through the forest along the river that feeds the dam we passed yesterday.
The pines are quiet, but purple-topped plants send fuzzy spores into the wind and the aspens glitter as the wind goes by. The road leaves the river and follows Little Smokey Creek. Then we leave all the water ways and head up to Dollarhide Summit. On the other side we descend towards Ketchum along Warm Springs Creek. Near town there are some really nice houses. We pass one house with a fence made of skis. Ketchum must be a winter sport resort town. There are even flags to help people cross the street. We have lunch at the Sawtooth Brewery. Brian says the place reminds him of Bend, OR. We continue east up the next mountain. For some excitement, we take a trail up to Wild Horse Lookout. It’s 2400′ to the top. There are a number of hairpins and the last bit is really rocky. It definitely delivered on the excitement.
The main road continues to climb. At Antelope Pass we can see Arco. Then it drops steeply for 3000′. The rest of the descent is more gradual. The sun is low in the sky. We’re in sage brush territory again with only the occasional glittering aspen grove, so not much to block the light. Visibility is poor sometimes depending on which way we are riding. We make it to Arco a little after 7pm. The Lost Creek Motel is really cute: brightly painted, sunflowers and gnomes, Christmas lights, and butterfly themed.
Of the 215 miles we rode today: less than 20 miles were on asphalt, about 75 miles on gravel road, 8 miles of rocky trail, and the rest, varying conditions of 4×4 road. We’re tired. My dinner of beans and ham and a slice of apple pie from a restaurant across the street are perfect.
Tuesday morning Tanner, the son-in-law of the owner of the auto parts store in town, helps us out with our oil change. He gives us some shop towels and lends us two oil pans, while telling us stories about his dirt bike riding adventures. Our first stop is the Big Southern Butte. It’s the tallest thing in sight rising up 2500’ in the flat desert.
The road up is rocky with 100′ of deep, large, loose rocks gathered at the bottom. I almost make it to the end of this bit before I trip. I feel a pain in my right tricep as I go down. Unbeknownst to me, Brian has also fallen. While I wait, I take off my duffle in an attempt to lighten my bike enough so I can lift it. It doesn’t work. When we get it upright, I decide to leave my bag and pick it up on the way down. The rest of the seven miles is rocky, but the bottom is the worst. There’s a 360 degree view of the surrounding area at the top. Going down in easier. We head south into the sagebrush desert. The road is so overgrown and curvy that I can only see 20’ in front of me most of the time. This means everything is a surprise — lava mounds, rocks, and mud. The brush brushes my toes. The desert is relatively flat, I’m not sure why the road needs to wind so much. After 40 miles of wandering in the desert, we come upon proper roads that go straight more than they turn and sometimes there is as much dirt on the surface as plants. Our navigation choices now are based on which road looks more like a road. After 20 miles of this we get to a real road that has no plants growing in it and a sign that has legible lettering on it. We’re almost to our destination. We stop by the Lariat (lava tube) Cave. It’s cool, dark, and long. We don’t venture too far in. The walls and ceiling are layers and puzzle pieces of lava.
It’s just a few more miles. We reach Wapi Park around 5pm. There’s even a picnic table. We get on the lava flow heading towards the peak of Pillar Butte. The flow is liquid action memorialized — oozing, wrinkling, cooling, pushing, cracking.
The surface is spotted with different colors of lichen and tufts of desert plants with small yellow and white flowers.
This is what is under the desert we rode over today. It’s a clear night with no trees to block the sky, we have a great view of the stars.
Wednesday is not Brian’s day. It starts off with his clutch behaving oddly, then the starter doesn’t work consistently. We ride past 30 miles of fields to get to American Falls by the Snake River. Finally we see truckloads of potatoes, the crop Idaho is known for. By the time we get to town Brian’s bike is working fine. There’s some light rain in the evening in the forecast so I suggest that we buy food that doesn’t need to be cooked for dinner tonight. Brian doesn’t like the selection at the grocery store, nor does he want to refill his water with tap water. He buys water and gets food from a restaurant across the street. We’re barely out of town and Brian wants to stop for lunch. We eat by the Register Rock, a rock that the pioneer families that live there carve their names on. 30 miles south of town we ride up into forested mountains again, by some peaks, and through some canyons. We run into a herd of sheep minded by a half dozen dogs and one human. We proceed slowly and they clear the road to let us pass.
The road has a lot of embedded rock and deep ruts. The worst are on steep slopes where water carves the tire tracks deeper and we need to ride in the small middle strip. On the other side of the mountain are lots of cows. Mostly on the side of the road, but a couple times we need to slowly nudge them off.
Rain clouds are appearing. There’s a huge rainbow to the east. Luckily we’re heading west towards the clear sky. We go under Interstate 84 and head towards another mountain. The route we have turns into a goat trail that isn’t suitable for our loaded bikes, so we detour. We’re trying to stay ahead of the rain. I race up a long, steep slope winding through the trees to get to a peak where we find a hunter surveying. He’s been tracking elk unsuccessfully for eight days he says and is wondering if he should just go home. He wants to chat, but we can’t stay. We ride down the other side. At the bottom of the mountain it looks like we need to head through the rain to get to our destination. I don’t mind a little rain, but Brian doesn’t want to get wet. People tell me that I’m very logical and that this is unusual. I am often confused by the non-logical thought processes of other people. Brian is clearly frustrated. After a little while I’m able to ascertain that he either wants to set up his tent before the rain gets to us or to find a motel. We’re at the edge of the Sawtooth National Forest, which means we can camp where we are. So we do. Thunderstorm and rain arrive around 7pm, just after I’m snug in my tent. It rains off and on for a couple hours then stops. Brian’s tent somehow touched the exhaust while riding and now has a number of holes melted through the fly. He has water intrusion issues during the rain.
Thursday morning we head to Almo. First to the General Store for gas. In addition to regular general store goods, it has a candy and ice cream bar. The owner is also baking cookies. She’s a dairy farmer who bought the General Store seven years ago. One of her daughters operates the Lunch Counter across the street that sells sandwiches. Next we go to the Visitor Center before riding through the City of Rocks.
These are granite rock formations created by magma pushing them up from below and erosion over time into an assortment of shapes.
It was on one of the pioneer trails west, so there is a Register Rock here where people wrote their names in axle grease. Most have fade away, but in sheltered spots on the rock, some remain.
This is also a popular rock climbing spot that attracts climbers from all over the world. From there we go up into another section of Sawtooth National Forest. We climb up to 8500′. The descent is steep with embedded rock – dropping 2000′ in the span of one mile. We pass through Oakley and into the Sawtooth forest again. About 15 miles in we come to a couple concrete blockades. This is the only way through to the other side. Otherwise we’d have to detour around the forest on asphalt. We decide we’ll check out how bad the closed road really is. The ruts get wider and deeper as we go along until we come across one that is 15′ at its deepest.
We decide to walk and see how much worse it gets or when it gets better. There are another set of concrete blockades about 2000′ away. On the walk back to our bikes we plot our route. The smaller ruts have at least one side we can ride along. For the big ones, there are cow paths that we can follow around. Sometimes there are stumps and small logs the cows step over but are trickier for us with wheels. We make it through without any major difficulties.
The road past the barrier is better, but the sun is low, so visibility is poor as we head to our camp spot. Part of our route takes us to an ATV/motorcycle trail. With the sun in my eyes I can barely see five feet in front of me. Luckily the lines I take don’t bring me to any rocks that are too big for me to get over. There’s plenty of wood at the camp site, which is good because we’re at 6000′ and it’s chilly tonight.
The elk whistle through the night. Then at day break the cows take over. It’s freezing in my tent. There is frost on my sleeping bag bivy. This means that it’s in the 20s outside. I’m mostly warm enough. I don’t want to get out of my sleeping bag until it’s at least 40 degrees. Not until 9am does it starts to warm up, melting the frost covering everything.
We get a late start to the day. Our route takes us to a field of tall grass and sagebrush. We manage to find a cow trail that takes us to the remnant of a road (that’s a generous description). Eventually a fade two-track takes us to a gate that leads to a gravel road. We get gas and take-out at Rogerson. A small canyon edged in lava rock leads us to the sagebrush prairie. 50 miles later we get to the grey gravel road lined with yellow daisies that good to Bruneau. We meet a motorcyclist riding the TAT (Trans-American Trail) at the gas station.
There are thousands of florescent yellow butterflies around Bruneau. The last stretch to Jordan Valley should only be 90 miles. But since the gates might still be locked, we take the long way which is 120 miles. The sun is setting as we reach the Owyhee Mountains. It’s beautiful, but I can’t really see. The sun is in my eyes and I can barely see the road. Eventually it gets dark and it’s still hard to see because my headlight isn’t super bright and it’s cloudy when it illuminates Brian’s dust. We get to Jordan Valley around 9:30. My palms, fingers, and wrists hurt. My shoulders hurt from the growing weight of my backpack. We load up the bikes and have dinner. After my shower I notice a huge bruise on my right elbow.
It doesn’t hurt and I’m not sure when I got it. It’s not new, the edges are turning yellow. The only pain is from my tricep from when I went down at the base of the Big Southern Butte. Maybe I ruptured a blood vessel and it’s been draining into my elbow. Today we rode 250 miles, with only 40 on asphalt.
Saturday we drive nine hours home. Monday is my birthday. As I get older, I think trips with less riding miles each day is wise. This trip was 1020 miles in seven days.