Day 30

July 11, 2003

We set off at 6:53 am and continued following the road. The sky was clear, and the air chilly enough to subdue the mosquitoes. We turned onto the road to Goldstone Pass. This road was not signed, but we knew it was the correct one by the curve of the main road shown on the map. Shortly we came to a "Road Closed" gate and later to a fork in the road. The left fork crossed the creek. This is where things started to get unknown. The map showed this road did not go anywhere near the creek. The right fork led up, this was also not shown correctly on the map. We knew there was something wrong here.

We walked about a mile up the right fork and came to a forest clearcut where the road appeared to end. I studied our Forest Service map and topo strip map, but I could not determine where we were. We could see the divide - in fact three hours later, standing on the divide, we would look down on this area and see the Goldstone Road on the slope. But from our current vantage we could see no hint of Goldstone Road. We backtracked to the junction, crossed the creek, and collected 2 quarts each. We could have used much more in retrospect.

We walked along this road about one mile, and alongside the road we found a map. It was weathered and faded, hardly readable, but it helped to confirm our conclusion - which in retrospect was wrong.

Whatever the case, we suspected that we not where we thought we were, but we did know that if we climbed cross-country in a westerly direction from anywhere around here, we would reach the divide. So we started up the next ridge. The going was surprisingly easy, as the ground was practically bare the whole way. The forest was white pine, limber pine and lodgepole pine. It was very pretty and very scenic, and it was a real treat to be hiking somewhere where few if any people go.

Once above the logged area we saw no trace of human presence. It was like looking at the earth 6-million years ago with one exception: the trees were probably not old growth. Unfortunately we could see another ridge immediately to the south, and from our higher vantage it looked like the one we thought we were climbing. And indeed, when we reached the top of the peak we found ourselves still quite a ways east of the divide. At the sight of this I experienced about 1.5 seconds of extreme disgust with my map reading skills. After that, I was merely very disappointed in my map reading skills. But it was no harm done, really.

Everything was now laid out before us. So we descended our mountain's western side, perhaps 400 vertical feet, then started climbing to the real divide. We came to some small lakes and boggy areas that we circumvented to the left. Then we followed a game trail that climbed very steeply up the slope. We reached the divide at 1:15 pm. Climbing time from the main road to the divide was 3 hours and 18 minutes.

The CDT proved very easy hiking. In about 20 minutes we were just about to stop for a rest, when we saw two hikers getting up from their rest. They introduced themselves as Stacy and Bernie K. from Birmingham, Washington, saying they were south-bound on the CDT. We recognized their boot tracks as the ones we had been following the last couple of days, although they had come up the Dark Horse Road this morning. They said the CDT just ended, and they had to do some cross-country climbing to gain the divide. Bernie had hiked the PCT and the AT. Stacy was new to the game and was obviously doing extremely well. We talked for about an hour, then set off and tried to hike with them.

Bernie was a biologist and seemed to know the name of every little plant and flower. But the situation soon developed that he was a little competitive. They soon left us far behind.

We, ourselves, didn't play these games. We were experienced enough to feel perfectly comfortable with our own pace, and we did not feel inclined to impress anyone. When you are racing, your focus is on your competitors. That wastes energy and vitality, and robs you of the joys of the moment. Our focus was on our connection to the mountains and our environment. Meeting these hikers was a treat, but we didn't let them become our focus. But to each his or her own.

We were out of water and getting very thirsty, so we hurried on toward Lemhi Pass where we arrived at 9:15 pm. From Lemhi Pass we followed the road two-tenths of a mile down to Sacajeweya Spring. The other two hikers were camped here. We filled our bottles, avoiding the quarter-inch leeches, then climbed directly up the slope to the divide, and made a beautiful stealth camp in a old grove of Douglas Fir. The sky was cloudless, so we slept under the branches without the tarp for the first time on the trip. We had stopped hiking at 10:11 pm. We checked for ticks: Bernie said they had been finding some recently.

Day 31

July 12, 2003

After a good night's rest we set off at 5:53 am. The sky was cloudless and the morning warm. We followed a dirt road along the divide southwest, and then steeply south, past a large CDT sign. A few herds of cattle stared as we passed by. The morning was very beautiful, and as we gained altitude the scenery became ever more expansive and grand. The road followed every rise and dip until one time it traversed around the west side of a slope.

We were walking blithely along when suddenly Jenny said, "deer" or so I thought. That is what it sounded like. What she had tried to say was "bear." Then she said "grizzly." A hundred feet in front of us, coming onto the road from the thick forest, was a yearling grizzly bear, followed by its mother. We quickly and silently backtracked around the corner, without their noticing us. Being at the top of the food chain, they are not particularly wary. They were lumbering along, foraging. Quite innocently, it seemed. We were not frightened, but only because the bears never saw us. We backtracked a few hundred more feet, climbed quietly up the slope nearly to the top, and after quite a distance descended back to the road. By then the bears were probably down the slope a fair ways... we hoped. This was our first up-close grizzly bear sighting while hiking, and we thought it was very unusual to find grizzlies in this region.

Later we came to a sign fragment reading Gucci Spring; these were the only 2 words legible. We followed blazes and cairns about 1/3 mile diagonalling down the slope, until giving up. This meant a fair climb back up the divide. In another few miles we came to another sign fragment with words: Mountain Spring. This time about 30 yards down the hill we found a marvelous little spring. We spent about an hour here, washing our feet, and drinking and collecting more water. Here we saw columbines blooming. Our feet were having blister problems, particularly Jenny's. The shoes we've been wearing have mesh soles, so the hiking makes our feet very dirty. When it comes to long distance hiking, dirty feet are sore feet.

Back on the road, their tracks indicated that the other two hikers had passed us by. The next stretch of hiking was positively marvelous, across expansive, open slopes of green and wildflowers, with scattered white pine and limber pine. We enjoyed spectacular views of the Lehmi range of mountains to the west and the intervening valley far below. The sky was still cloudless, but there was a rather strong wind which kept us cool. Somewhere in our day we reached a high point of 9,500 feet.

Along the way we met the other hikers. We stopped and chatted awhile, then we left them to finish their rest. Soon we came to a faint trail with a CDT emblem. It led down through the forest, crossed the road, paralleled the road a ways, and then headed through a field of sage marked by 3 or 4 cairns but no trail. These led back to the road. This seemed strange, but it was merely the beginning of an absolutely excellent trail which saved us a great deal of climbing up and down, by traversing instead.

At Goat Peak, where in '92 we had climbed a long and steep slope via jeep tracks, the new trail traversed around to the left and eventually led directly to the Black Mountain Creek spring. In '92 we had descended to this spring from high on the flanks of Goat Peak.

In another mile we stopped and cooked dinner at 3:15 pm. The other hikers passed by and that was the last we saw of them. They intended to hitch-hike down from Bannock Pass to collect their resupplies. That will put them far behind us, for we were carrying food and provisions for another 150 miles. So much for the competition. As usual we are extremely careful to extinguish our very small cookfires, spending a lot of time making sure they were completely out, and eradicated.

After dinner, we resumed following the trail, and by now the wind was so strong that it sometimes was hard to walk a straight line. We followed the trail for mile after mile, all the rest of the day. We climbed Grizzly Peak, then traipsed through the forest for several miles. At the far end the trail made an abrupt left turn at a fence made out of logs. Obviously this fence was on the Montana-Idaho border. The trail followed the fence for mile after mile. We saw a sign that said: "Spring 200 feet." We investigated and found it didn't look too good although it was flowing somewhat. We carried on another couple miles to another spring turnoff, half a mile to Wagon Box Spring. The spring was not flowing, but there was clear water in a metal catchment. We scooped some out with our cookpot to wash our feet Dundo style.

Jenny was first to notice the increasing smell of smoke. We were going to camp nearby, but we went out into a meadow to investigate the smoke-laden air. And there to the southwest, billowing over the mountains was smoke from a huge wildfire. The fire was not quite upwind of us, but close enough to cause concern, mainly due to the very high winds. So we decided to play it safe and continue hiking down to Bannock Pass where we might be able to evacuate down the road if necessary.

Reaching the pass on the last of our legs, we climbed the opposite rise, bushwhacking through the waist-high sage, and found a flat, protected spot on the ridge. There we stopped for the day at 10:30 pm. The sky was cloudless, and we slept beneath the glorious sweep of stars and the full moon.

Day 32

July 13, 2003

The wind had died at dusk, and the night had been very quiet. Our impromptu campsite on the gravel turned out to be a most comfortable place to sleep. Jenny commented that it was the first night she had spent in many weeks where she fell immediately to sleep, with very little tossing and turning. And, even better, her feet seemed to heal miraculously overnight, so that she walked at a decent pace with no gimping most of the day. She said that she felt that the area we camped on might have been a medicine place, or a healing portal.

We set off at 6:31 am and soon found the gravel road leading up the ridgeline. At Deadman Pass we descended south 100 yards to the drainage and found a small but flowing creek. We followed it to its source, an area of seeping springs, but the whole place was reeked of cattle and was heavily polluted. We couldn't drink it, but we did wash our feet and a pair of socks each.

The ridge led ever upward until we came to the CDT trail which switchbacked and made the going much easier. The wind was now blowing strong again. In one section we saw lots of bitterroot blooming, and a pair of beautiful butterflies - white with delicate gold and black spots - flitting back and forth at our feet, in front of us, as if ushering us along the path.

The trail wasted no time leading up to 9,000 feet. Near the high point we found a snow bank so we filled all our water bottles, 3 liters each, and while doing so we ate a lot of snow. The trail climbed nearly to the summit of Elk peak at 10,194 feet, then soon led down to a pass where we were surprised to find a spring. There was a plastic pipe leading into a horse trough and someone had cut off the end of the pipe so that the water couldn't reach the trough. Someones idea (not ours) of sabotaging the equestrians with a simple pocket knife. We filled our bottles from the pipe, and enjoyed a long rest in the shade, for the day was decidedly hot on this side of the mountain, out of the wind. Then we washed all our socks.

Setting off with 3 liters of water each, we descended to the low point of the ridge and found the place where we had camped in '92 - the owl camp, for those who have read our book. The trail traversed along a forested slope a ways, then joined the 4WD road. This is where the day's effort began in earnest. For the rest of the day we followed this road, several times climbing very steeply up long slopes. The wind was now blowing a steady 50 knots. It was all we could do to walk while still remaining upright. The wind was quite chilly but our exertions kept us warm. My single shoulder pack carry method worked well on the windward side, but not the leeward because the wind tended to blow the pack strap off my shoulder. So I hiked most of the afternoon with the pack on my right shoulder.

(Note: So much for the theory that one needs a heavy pack loaded with tons of warm clothes and many sacks of food and bottles of fuel in order to traverse these long stretches between resupplies. Our current stretch was nearly 300 miles, and our packs were reasonably light and nimble.)

Whenever the road moved off the divide a bit, the wind wasn't overpowering. But this was not very often. Despite the wind, it was gorgeous country - open parklands with scattered stands of limber pine and white pine. How these trees manage to remain standing we could not imagine. Sometimes the gusts were much stronger and made our wind jackets vibrate fiercely; the noise was very loud. In the stronger gusts we had great difficulty walking; we often had to stop and brace to maintain balance. After several hours of interminable climbing and contending with the wind, we reached 9,500 feet. From this high point we descended far into a valley.

All afternoon we had been watching the smoke from the fire to the west. The fire was in the mountains on the west side of Leadore. In this strong wind, the yellow-brownish smoke billowed and streaked across the sky to the northeast.

We saw a herd of about 200 elk at a distance. Later we saw a herd of domestic sheep, probably also numbering about 200. Reaching the bottom of the valley, to our surprise we found another spring, so at about 9:10 pm we stopped for the day. We were hungry and decided to cook at an existing fire ring. The sun was down and the wind died quickly, so we enjoyed a very pleasant hour around the evening cookfire.

Day 33

July 14, 2003

After a good night's sleep we woke at 7:30 am. I had not pitched the tarp, so the quilt had some dew on it, but the sunshine quickly dried it. We packed up and walked back to the spring, filled our bottles with 3 liters each, I washed my feet, then we set off at 8:09 am.

Following the road half-a-mile to Morrison Lake, we left the CDT and followed Road #3920. Four miles later we came to the junction with Road # 257. This was where, in '92, we had left a 3-pound fossil. Now, with directions from our journal I found the fossil again. It was an interesting piece of rock, indeed, but not worth carrying any further. It was, however, fun finding the first time, finding it again now, and then equally fun to put back where we had left it 11 years previously.

We turned onto Road # 257 and followed it quite a ways to a set of high-tension power lines. These lines led straight to Bannack Pass, visible in the far distance. For the initial several miles, the power lines had a service road. We figured this road would save us a few miles, so we decided to follow it. Progress was great for about half the distance to the pass. At one point we sat resting in the thin long shade of one of the power poles. We sipped sparingly on our water, unsure where the next good source would be.

We encountered a herd of cattle. First they ran toward us. Then they ran away. Then they ran parallel with us. Then they crossed our route ahead of us and stopped. These antics they repeated to utter distraction, and we were glad when we reached the next fence.

Soon we started crossing fences by the dozens. But the fences all had gates, as mandated by power line easement.

Midway across the expanse of prairie we came to the bogs. These bogs were the result of ranchers irrigating their land, and were the reason we had walked the road in '92; that year we had been warned not to cross the bogs. But '92 was a very wet year, and this year was extremely dry, so we figured we would be fine.

What ensued was a couple hours of back-breaking work, slogging through hummocks and swampy, mosquito infested bogs. This was a no-man's-land if ever there was one. The worse part was not hummocks that the cows had created, but the unfathomable pollution.

At one point we encountered quick sand, but the grass was growing so thickly that our feet did not sink in. The grassy ground simply undulated disconcertingly with each step.

Finally reaching the far end of the bogs, we negotiated another herd of cows, and then after crossing that fence, continued following the power lines. The terrain from this point was interesting, and we found several pieces of petrified wood. We also found a small chunk of obsidian that someone might have brought here long ago.

Coming over a rise, we surprised a herd of 25 to 30 antelope. Most darted gracefully away, but a few stood eying us curiously for a couple minutes.

Late afternoon we came to a beautiful creek: 3-feet wide, 1-foot deep, flowing heartily - and sadly cattle polluted. But not so bad that we dare not wash our pants, shoes, socks and feet, all of which positively reeked with the cattle swamps. We spent 45 minutes at the creek, enjoying the mere presence of the water and soaking our feet. Jenny even held her bare toes and feet to the sun for 10 minutes for some UV athlete's foot treatment.

During the final couple of miles to the pass, we spent a lot of time checking out springs. We found water, but again everything was annihilated and cattle polluted.

At 5:30 pm we reached Bannack Pass and a few CDT signs. It had taken us 9 hours to cross the expansive valley. In retrospect, the power line route was not a good one. On the other hand, the road around it avoids the bogs, but it too has no drinkable water. We have gone both ways. Throughout the day we had seen where the CDT traversed the imposing mountains to the west and south. Next time we would follow the CDT for sure.

Leaving the CDT at Bannack Pass for the final time on this particular trip, we followed Road # 280 south. This actually led higher before it began its ultra-long descent into the lowlands. In half-an-hour we left the road and cross-countried down to a couple old cabins, hoping to find water. On our map this place is named Cow Camp. The drainage was exceedingly green with tall grass and willows, but the creek was barely flowing and we knew it must be horribly polluted. Fifty yards from the main cabin a moose grazed peacefully in the luxurious grasses. We walked toward the cabin in full view of the moose. She stood there and watched us, her ears cocked straight at us. I called to her softly, and soon she resumed grazing. After a few minutes she ambled slowly away.

We searched the region for water, and found a small, galvanized pipe flowing heartily with spring water. The water tasted a little strange, like a pipe or a tank perhaps, but otherwise it was cold and fine. I filled our water bottles along with the cookpot and our bowl.

The time was 7 pm, so we decided to use the existing fire ring for cooking dinner. The wind had been light all day, so we collected some dead willow, and before long had a delicious pot of corn elbows, seasoned with tomato sauce, parmesan cheese and a few bits of salami. We put out the fire, making doubly sure it was completely out, then at 8:03 pm we set off again.

Road #195, Emigrant Trail Road, led gently upward, and at one point we enjoyed the company of a prairie hen hiking the road 40-feet ahead of us. This went on for a couple of minutes. We sang to it, just for fun. We had seen a fair number of these birds today; at times their tracks on the dirt roads were so numerous they were almost comical. We have also seen tracks of fox, coyote, antelope, elk, and prairie dog.

Just short of Horse Creek drainage we stopped at 9:30 pm and cleared a small bedding area amongst the open sage. The ground-hugging vegetation was very prickly, but we scraped and flattened it with our shoes, creating no real impact. Again, due to the good weather we did not pitch the tarp. Our bed was very lumpy with clumps of dry grass, but we found it "not terribly uncomfortable." An antelope started bellowing out its peculiar call. To us, they sound like coughing ducks. Also, we heard the lovely cries of coyotes.

Day 34

July 15, 2003

We woke to find heavy dew on the quilt. After drying in the sun for a few minutes, we packed up and set off at 7:27 am. The sky was cloudless and the road continued to lead through the wide-open sage brush country. The road climbed and descended quite a bit, but still it made for lovely hiking. We particularly enjoyed the sight of small, night-loving animal tracks covering the dirt road. We did not suspect this was to be the day for baths.

The first one happened at North Fork Fritz Creek. The water was flowing heartily and very cold, as though it was issuing from a spring not far away. While we washed our feet and took sponge baths the flies swarmed around us irritatingly, but this did not stop us from getting clean.

We didn't drink from this water because it could have been polluted upstream, although the water was not showing much here, and the cattle were not present.

The day grew hot, and overhead a patch of cirrus began forming in the west. Judging by the car tracks, this road sees only a couple vehicles per week. So we seized the moment by hiking in only the bare necessities. Shoes and sun hats, for example. About half a mile north of Cole Canyon we came to something that took us by complete surprise - a swimming pool. Actually, it was a stock watering tank, about 15-feet in diameter, 3½-feet high, with a concrete floor and full to the brim with crystal clear water. Several things about this tank amazed us. First, where did the water come from? The tank was situated nearly on a ridge, with no springs in sight. Also the tank was so clean we were tempted to drink out of it. The water was cold but the day was hot, so we stepped in to the swimming pool for bath #2.

Walking away, still quite amazed and impressed by this modern marvel of water engineering, we were sorry to be leaving it so soon. A mile past Cole Canyon we left the road and descended a long, steep hill down into Weber Canyon. Directly across the new road was Weber Creek where we stopped in a shady grove of willow for bath #3. Weber Creek was flowing nicely and looked almost drinkable, but we dared not take a chance without a filter. But again, we were quite hot by now, so the water was very inviting. Dressed in our shell jackets and pants to ward off the hoards of hungry flies, we waved to a local rancher as he drove by on his motorbike.

From there we followed the road up toward Black Mountain. This led a long ways uphill, and had us starting to get concerned about our drinking water supply. The creeks were all dry along here. Just prior to reaching South Fork Deep Creek, which was dry, we came to a stock-watering trough fed by a spring just uphill. The trough was 100 feet off the road. The whole place reeked with fresh cattle manure, but a pipe led from the fenced-off spring to the trough, and water was flowing nicely. So braving the stench and muck, we filled our bottles with pure spring water. In addition to our 3 liters each we also filled our bowl and cookpot.

It seemed today that we could either swim in the water or drink it, but not both. Nevertheless, finding good water typically brought immense relief. We were perfectly happy to carry all we could, because we never knew when we would find it next. In lieu of a couple of gallon containers, for the past few days we've had to drink sparingly.

The road led up the flanks of Black Mountain to the top of a ridge. From here the view ahead was quite stunning. The terrain dropped off with surprising suddenness, and we could see the vast flatlands below. Somewhere out there lay the city of Idaho Falls. Looking north we could see the huge expanse of sagebrush prairie, and in the distance the mountains of the Continental Divide. Dark clouds had built over them.

The road wound far down into Warm Springs Canyon. The wind was now fairly strong from the south. Eventually we found a nice clump of willows offering shelter from the wind. There we stopped to cook a pot of corn elbows with tomato alphabet soup added. We also picked up a couple of tarp support sticks for the evening camp, as we suspected there might be no trees down in the lowlands. After walking by some pretty juniper, we passed through a very interesting canyon with amazing rock formations on both sides. The rocks looked eons old, and had weathered into quite a number of gargoyle-ish, ghoulish arches. For us this was the gateway to the flatlands. For a north-bounder, this would be a gateway to the high mountains.

We were walking down the road when we saw a fellow and 4 children, all wearing bathing suits and barefoot. Obviously we had reached Warm Springs. We asked the friendly fellow about the springs, and he said they were just 100 yards up the side road. When we told him we were going to Monteview (he pronounced it Monna-view), the guy said "you're almost there." Then he looked at his watch and said, "but the gas station might be closed." This was the perspective of someone driving at 50 mph. We would be lucky to reach it by noon the following day.

We wandered up to the spring and were absolutely amazed by the amount of water issuing from one small hole in the mountainside. It would have filled a bathtub in two seconds. The locals had built a couple of nice pools. The water was not actually warm, but neither was it cold, as one would expect of a spring. Jenny went in for bath #4. I had just applied 2nd Skin and tape to three areas of my feet and toes. But I did collect some drinking water from the point where the water first saw the light of day. These pools and the source were wisely all fenced in.

We continued down the road, rounding a few more bends, and suddenly we were out of the mountains. There were no more juniper or other trees, only sagebrush, grasses, and other hearty shrubs. In several more miles we came to the junction with Crooked Creek Road. A truck drove by and pulled to a stop. The driver and his wife generously offered us a lift. As it happens, he was the local farmer, working a huge piece of land, which he said actually belonged to the Nature Conservancy. He gave us permission to camp anywhere in the region. He offered us a ride to Idaho Falls the next morning, but again we declined his kind offer, without regrets. He cautioned us to watch out for rattlesnakes, which were particularly numerous, he said, farther south by the low hills.

About a mile beyond the junction we hauled off the road to the southwest, and letting ourselves through one of the farmer's gates, we stopped walking at 9:15 pm - same as last night, and set up camp on the edge of the immense field. We pitched the tarp this time, in case of rain. Before long I had a tremendous and unusual bout of hay fever. Apparently I was not used to so much pollen in the air.

Day 35

July 16, 2003

The ground beneath us was rock hard, but we slept well by not tossing and turning.

We set off at 5:51 am under a partly cloudy sky. The air temperature was cool and refreshing. The rancher drove by, and again offered a ride into Idaho Falls, this time with a offer to return us to this same spot later that day.

Instead we began the long walk to Monteview, sixteen miles without much change in the immediate scenery. But the distant mountain scenery was superb, and for the first seven miles only one other car went past.

At highway 22 we crossed the road and continued southeast along a road shown on the Forest Service map, but which proved to be a private road into the backside of someone's extra-large farm. Along the way were fascinating tracks in the dirt: sage hen and other smaller birds, snake, mice, fox, badger, coyotes. We followed the road past some outbuildings, then we went through a barbed wire gate into a large field. After another half mile southeast we crawled under an electric fence and followed a good gravel road 1½ miles east. Along the way we admired the crops: alfalfa growing on both sides of the road, freshly watered by the huge radial sprinklers. The profusion of plant growth was impressive.

At the A1 Monteview highway we turned south and walked what felt like a thousand miles.

When we first stepped onto this paved road, our shoes suddenly came into their own, and practically glided along. These shoes have breathable soles, and they had performed very poorly in the mountains, but here on the paved road they were ideal. The road had very little shoulder, but also very little traffic. And without exception every vehicle coming our way pulled over into the opposite lane, unless there was another vehicle coming the opposite way. Also, with very few exceptions, everyone waved. We have never seen such courteous drivers. On two separate occasions a pickup truck going our way pulled into the wrong lane, stopped to chat with us, and shut off the engine. The occasional vehicle speeding along simply pulled over into the other lane and went past, no problem. Both of these men offered us a ride. We chatted for a while and learned a few interesting facts about the region. One fellow raised elk on his field. The other fellow said he had 3200 head of sheep up in the mountains.

Miles seemed to come slowly, but ultimately our persistence won over, and we slogged in to Monteview at 1:45 pm. We headed first to the small gas station and convenience store. The place was sparsely stocked and we were surprised to learn they were closing down in three days. We bought cold drinks and sandwiches, and sat at the table enjoying our first pocket of civilization in 10 days. The newspaper had a front page story of the fire we had seen in the Lehmi Range.

We bought another round of snacks for our packs. The proprietor recommended we not fill our water bottles from the tap because the well water tasted bad. We sampled it and it tasted great to us, especially when thinking back to some of the spring-fed pipes we had collected water from, standing over some stinking stock tank. We walked a quarter mile farther to the post office and sat on a patch of grass on the shady north side of the building. And of course we went in and collected our resupply parcels. The postmaster, Mell Hill, was very friendly and helpful. He let us use the hose, and gave us cold bottled water from his cooler. For a souvenir he gave us a Monteview postmarked post card with today's date. He asked us to send him a post card from our journey's end.

With the hose we washed our feet, scrubbing them with a small brush that we had placed in our resupply box. This worked extremely well. We also gave ourselves sponge baths under our clothing. Thanking Mel, we set off at 4:23 pm, and walked something like 9 miles south. Traffic picked up during the coming-home-from-work hours. But just about all the drivers were friendly. We turned left on the highway from Leadore (#28?) and then left again onto #33 into the town of Mud lake, where we arrived at 8:30 pm.

We went to the gas station convenience store for cold drinks, then across the street to the Haven RV Park and Motel. It looked a bit dingy on the outside, but we figured it would be worth getting a shower. But inside it was surprisingly nice. We grabbed all of our clothes and proceeded to the laundromat, and washed everything including packs and quilt. Back at the room we each enjoyed a long soak in the bathtub. We finally finished the day about 11:30 pm.

Day 36

July 17, 2003

Awaking, we were aghast to find the time was nearly 10:00 am. We packed and proceeded to the KG Country Diner. This little restaurant shared the same building with an auto repair shop, but ironically had some of the best food we've had in a long while. It had a beautiful little salad bar, which is what we went for. The people behind us ordered burgers and fries and the size of the pile of fries on the plate was incredible.

After our meal Jenny made a few phone calls while I sat at the table waiting. I couldn't help overhearing the conversation behind me. The fellow said, " My Dad never gets mad, but if I do something wrong it takes him all summer to get over it. I wish he would just explode and get it over with." I wondered: where does it go, the wisdom of youth.

We left the restaurant at noon and headed for the next small town along our route, Terreton, about an hour's walk. Walking along this road we found a number of birds obliterated by high-speed vehicles. One was a beautiful horned owl. It was quite large with beautiful talons, feathers and wings. Then there was a large hawk, a raven, a kestrel, a magpie, and a number of smaller birds. It was sad.

At the post office in Terreton we mailed home our warm clothes. This was an effort to eliminate much of the bulk in our packs. In another mile or so we stopped at the grocery store, and found it surprisingly well stocked. We bought a selection of fresh fruit including a large bag of juicy cherries. From there we continued east a few more miles, then turned south on Road 1600E. After a short dog-leg at a potato farm, the road continued south, leading toward the Lava Lands.

The area's immense fields were irrigated by long, radial sprayers called pivots. At the last pivot visible for a long ways, we were fortunate that its tip happened to be close to the road. Also, the alfalfa was very short here. So we were able to collect water from one of the spray nozzles. From a distance these huge nozzles look like they are misting, but up close they are positively gushing. We collected a quart in just a couple of seconds. The water was very cold, and this was a good indication it had just come from a deep well, and indeed the water tasted very good.

Eventually we left all the agriculture behind and headed out into the sage. Along the way we saw quite a number of antelope. And we saw perhaps half a dozen pickup trucks, each one traveling the dirt road like a missile. As if in another world, not one driver was friendly. We wondered if they were working for the nearby nuclear facility.

The sky had clouded over, providing most welcome shade. At one point we even received a few dollops of rain. The weather report was for continued dry weather except for a few afternoon thundershowers.

The road led south-southeast for several miles. We felt like we were far out into the wilds, until again coming over a rise and seeing ahead more agriculture, meaning green fields instead of dry sage. It is amazing what humans can accomplish, in changing the vegetation. But of course at what cost to the earth's resources? This takes a vast amount of power and water. And its mostly, percentage-wise, for the production of beef.

Late in the afternoon we watched a skunk cross the road ahead of us. But the skunk seemed reluctant to enter the field of malt barley, which grew thickly at the road's edge. So we walked right past the skunk and stopped for a quick picture. The skunk appeared somewhat frightened of us, but we soon left it alone.

We turned east on 400 North and then south on 2100 East. We walked another mile and a half and stopped at 9:30 pm between potato fields. We lacked tarp support sticks, so we supported one end of the tarp from a large stack of baled hay, with the ridgeline tied to the bailing twine. The other end of the tarp we supported with a 3-foot section of PVC pipe we found laying around. The mosquitoes were rather numerous due to the standing irrigation water.

Day 37

July 18, 2003

We slept poorly because of the mosquitoes and the heat. We heard a few farm trucks drive by in the early morning hours. We set off at 5:58 am under a cloudless sky. The Mexican workers were already out in the fields, shifting irrigation pipes.

We walked south on 2100 East to 113 North, and followed that east. Several people stopped and offered us rides. One of them was a fellow named Carl Taylor who said he had seen us yesterday in Terreton. He was impressed that we had made it all the way from there. As it happened, he owned or ran the farms hereabouts, and he very kindly grabbed a shovel, walked us out in to one of his fields, and dug up a couple potato plants to show us the crop in progress.

He explained how the potato starter pieces were machine planted, and how the mature potatoes would be ready to machine harvest in September. He explained how the pivots worked, using simple contact switches to keep the segments lined up. Remarkably, each pivot costs $70,000 and replaced only one worker shifting irrigation pipes. But he said the hassles with the workers justified the machines. He owned 85 pivots.

Thanking Carl for his time, we continued east, then turned south on Osgood Road (35 West). At the school house we took a rest under a large shade tree on the lawn. There were no amenities at this intersection, other than shade and water from irrigation and possibly from houses. There was good water all along the way from irrigation.

The day was quite hot, with no clouds. We continued south to 49 North, and crossed Interstate 15, then walked along Frontage Road South into Idaho Falls. At this point we were paralleling the Snake River. Due to the heat, we could have used an inflatable raft. Eventually we crossed under Highway 20, and at 3 pm went into a restaurant for a big lunch. Then we continued south several blocks to a motel and a swim in its pool, which felt wonderful.

Day 38

July 19, 2003

Layover day in Idaho Falls. After a late breakfast we walked to the library along the riverfront. The sky was completely clouded over, meaning the day would have been cool and good for hiking. At the library we used the computers, then took a taxi to the Grand Teton mall. We visited every store that sold shoes, and Jenny bought a pair with more cushioning in the heel. And we both got a pair of sandals and fresh socks. After spending most of the afternoon looking for footwear that we hoped would work for us, we grabbed a late dinner and a return ride back to the motel.

Day 39

July 20, 2003

Another layover day in Idaho Falls. The past week our feet had been very painful, so we decided to give ourselves another rest day. Jenny sewed strips of material (bought yesterday at a fabric store) to our quilt netting. We attached mylar to our umbrella canopies. And we tried to stay off our feet as much as possible.