As summer drew to a close, I found myself in the gem state. Idaho, that is. I made my way north via highway 75, and just before sunset I landed in a town called Ketchum, in the Sun Valley. At an altitude of about 5,500', nestled in the cleavage of the saw tooth mountains, I found this bustling ski-town in central Idaho to be absolutely charming. Its many attractions draw tourists from around the world all year long, from its ski-slopes, to the hot springs, the hiking trails, and the spawning salmon, swimming through the crystal clear waters that carve their way through the region.
I stayed at a hostel on the northwestern side of town for three days while I rested and looked over the map. Late in the afternoon on an unseasonably cold day, I set off on my journey. On my back was a forty-pound sack, complete with hiking and camping essentials, including water that would last me approximately three days. I began hiking up Warm Springs Road, which would turn into the wilderness road R227. I had read about a place called the Smokey Bar Store, in an area called "Big Smokey", about 30 miles from my starting point, and I figured I could get there within two days to resupply and then continue to make my way west.
Sure enough, as I moved up Warm Springs Road, the houses began to thin out. The trees got thicker, and the pavement turned into a fine, dusty gravel. Night came, and the air became very cold. I put on an extra layer, and a scarf, and kept moving. The light of the moon illuminated the path, allowing me to gain some more ground before I would camp for the night. When I got tired, I ventured off the main trail and up a steep slope blanketed with conifers. I laid out my sleeping bag and called it a night. At sunrise, I looked at my compass and with a good view of the road from where I stood, I saw that it would curve around the hill alongside the creek, so I decided to hike straight up the slope and over the peak, just to make my adventure interesting. It was a more difficult task than I thought, but by the end of the day, I was at the top of the hill, just one of the many peaks in the region, probably about 8,000'. The ground was rocky and uneven. I found a flat area between two trees on the slope, just a few feet down from the peak, and unrolled my sleeping bag. The stars are a spectacular sight when you see them through a forest canopy in the wilderness.
I woke up to the sound of a small airplane, flying low, headed eastward to another mountain, miles away, where a column of smoke was rising. The forest service had been very busy with recent wildfires all over the western United States, and around this time, on most days there would be a haze in the air. Sometimes I could smell the fires burning, even from fifty miles away. I continued my journey west, still in the thick forest, hoping to meet up with R227 eventually. At the end of the day, I looked in my pack with some concern. Due to a dreadful miscalculation, I was out of food, and if I didn't get to the creek, which I could hear flowing wildly in the distance, I would be out of water. I was awake at sunrise again, and with near freezing temperatures, I continued down the other side of the steep hill, toward the sound of the creek. When I reached the creek, I was exhausted, and starving. I quickly boiled enough fresh water to fill my hydration unit, and crossed over the creek. The road was in sight, and by my estimate, I thought I had covered at least 20 miles.
I came across another hill, more bare than the last, and saw many bushes filled with berries. I ate them by the handful and they sustained me for a while. I was still very hungry and weak, this being my second day without any real, hardy food. Still I pushed forward, all the while thinking to myself, "when I get to Big Smokey, I'm going to have myself a nice, juicy burger, and a pile of fries taller than these mountains". (after all, what better place to have French fries than Idaho?) I came upon a series of switchbacks and the trail became more steep, I continued. The afternoon sun brought blisters to my already sun-burnt neck as I made it to the top of the next hill. Suddenly, I had to take off my pack and rest. My whole body ached, and my mind wasn't taking the starvation very well.
I heard the sound of an atv approaching behind me. As I turned around, I contemplated sticking out my thumb, but then I saw there was no room for me on the vehicle. The two hunters riding simply nodded and waved as they passed by. I kept walking along and the next time I heard an engine, I stopped and held out my thumb. It was a Jeep, and a pleasant surprise. The driver, who was vacationing from Germany, welcomed me aboard and we shared stories about our experiences in the wilderness of central Idaho. As we conquered each mile of R227, I began to see signs directing travelers to the Smokey Bar Store. It was then that I realized I had made another miscalculation, I was a lot further away than I thought. I was glad to have been picked up by my new German friend, and he had no problem taking me where I wanted to go, he simply said he was headed west.
Nearing the end of the afternoon, we rode down another hill and the trail came to a fork. The sign said the Smokey Bar Store was just fifty yards away, so I told my friend to let me off there. I walked down the road a little bit and saw an old shack which posed as a general store, and a tavern. The bathroom was outside, and the water in the kitchen was pumped by hand. I had reached my destination. Much to my disappointment, they didn't have French fries, it was a very primitive establishment, the only one for probably thirty or more miles in either direction. On the back porch, they grilled four cheeseburgers upon my request, and I savored every bite. Everyone in the place wore a gun on their hip, which made a lot of sense to me. There are bears and other dangerous wildlife out there, and hardly any police to come for assistance, should you encounter any criminals. Besides, Idaho is kind of shaped like a gun.
The next day, after replenishing my supplies, and eating a large breakfast, I continued down R227. About a quarter of a mile from my campsite, there was a large concrete barrier blocking the road. This was not on the map I saw online. Apparently, the river washed out the road about five years ago after a record snowfall, and it was never repaired. Ten miles of road was off limits to all vehicles, so I resolved I would hop over the barrier, and continue until I was on the other side of the closed section. One hundred feet after the barrier I saw where part of the road was washed out. I jumped onto a narrow path on the side of the river. Every now and then a short stretch of road would appear, then drop off again. At each break in the road there was either the Boise river, or a pile of rocks to traverse. Here and there the terrain was rough, but it was peaceful, I was hiking on a road that had been virtually untouched for five years. I saw trees older than the country itself, and when I gazed into the clear waters of the river, I saw the spawning salmon, bright red, making their way upstream. There was not a person in sight.
Sunset was approaching, and another concrete barrier appeared, marking the end of the closed section of R227. Immediately after hopping the barrier, I noticed this side to be more lively than Big Smokey. Each camp site was packed, but eventually I found a place to set up my tent. I introduced myself to the nearby campers and everyone seemed nice and welcoming. I would spend the night there and the next day I would see the towns of Featherville and Pine. The day after that, I would hitch-hike to Boise, where I would take a shower, do laundry, and continue to Oregon. I apologize for not taking any pictures.
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