We lounged around for a long time this morning. It was 9:30 AM before I got out of my PJs. Darlie was out next to the river watching a mule deer doe browsing on young willow shoots along the shoreline.
The deer seemed not to notice us only a few yards away on the opposite bank. She was very thin. Her ribs and hips were showing. It must be the result of the long winter with little food. She seemed to be famished.
Darlie shot dozens of photos of her. Unfortunately she had to use my Nikon to take her photos. Her camera had a dead battery. She missed many photo opportunities today because hers was on the charger all day. My camera is slow to start up. We have passed by an interesting shot before the lens opens. The narrow mountain roads do not allow us to pull over anywhere we choose.
We finally got around to leave by 11:00 AM. We had to make a stop at the dump station on our way out of the campground. The parking lot next to the boat launch was busy. The salmon fishing season opens tomorrow. The length of the river will be jammed with fishermen. It is a good time for us to get out of the area.
We passed by several very old log cabins with sod roofs. Some of them were partially fallen in. Others were in full bloom. Years ago sod made a good roof material out here. We could use something like that in Florida. It would self heal after a hurricane. But then again, we would probably have to mow it.
Northeastern Idaho remained semi desert all the way to the base of the Bitterroot Range. We climbed Lost Trail Pass, so called as it was nearly the end of the trail for the Lewis and Clark expedition. They had gone as far as their canoes could take them. Had it not been for Sacajawea, the indian guide, who negotiated with the local tribes for horses and trail information, success of the venture would have been in grave jeopardy.
My 454 GM stump puller, as I like to call it, carried us up the mountain as fast as I cared to go. People have told me that gas engines don’t have the power on long steep hills. My stump puller will take me faster than I am capable of driving it. It is the very sharp curves and switchbacks that hold you back. Many of the curves have suggested maximum speeds of 20 mph. In a MH make that more like 15 mph. The high center of gravity causes you to heel over pretty good. Pickups with campers will fly right by you. They don’t have that center of gravity problem. I bored you enough with this topic.....
As we topped the mountain at over 7000 feet, the highest pass since somewhere in Utah, both of us commented on how tired we felt. We had only been driving for three hours. In a short distance we came to a small USDA campground along the Bitterroot River. We decided to stop early and rest.
Bitterroot Range
Later it came to us why we were so tired. The elevation. It has been sometime since we were up this high. We are short of breath again doing the simplest things. After a day or so we get used to it. We both decided to take a nap.
Later we walked around the little park. There are only a couple of other campers here with us. The Bitterroot is crystal clear. At our location very near its source, it is only a few feet across. It has bull trout, brook trout and cutthroat trout in it. Several fishermen stopped by during the day to fish from the platform built along the river for fishing. The little stream looks to small to me to have many fish in it. But what do I know about mountain steams?
It was sunny and warm when we arrived here. Many mosquitoes were here to greet us, waiting patiently for their evening meal. As the sun dropped lower in the sky, dark clouds moved in over the mountains. The temperature dropped very quickly. It felt like snow.
We are comfortably snuggled down in our MH for the evening. Darlie has the windows in the bedroom open so it is like an icebox in there. That is how she likes it. We won’t be able to come home until Florida cools off. We could be a long time. She is loving this cool weather. I am afraid she will want to escape the Florida summers every year now. What did I get myself into?
No comments:
Post a Comment