Mountain Meadows, Mountain Goats and DIRT

I went for a ride on my bike up some Forest Service roads 

and through some pretty meadows full of flowers.

A sign along the road said there are mountain goats to be see in these mountains and lower foothills but I never saw them.  But then how could one possibly see a tiny speck of white way up on a mountainside so far away, even with the aid of binoculars or Hubble Space Telescope?

Back at camp I went over to say hello to my only camp neighbors.  They were an older couple (older than I...I think) locals from Idaho and the discussion ended up as to how things have changed in camping and being in the great outdoors compared to 30 or 40 years back.  They were commenting on how people are today and I could only agree with them for they were bringing up points that I was beginning to think is it just me and some bad attitude towards people I've nurtured as I've grown older?   I thought more on our visit afterwards and about how some people are just  Disrespectful,  Inconsiderate, Rude  T ourists, and so will be referred to as DIRT from now on.  And with that, later in the day some DIRT moved in and I just had to leave the next morning.
It turned out to be good thing as I found a better place that even has strong cell signal,
something I haven't had in days and was able to update and post onto the blog my grumbling.

A Perfect Camp

I was driving down the dirt road at our new camp location looking for a small cleared area of sagebrush off to the side to pull on to.  Up ahead a guy in a pickup with camper shell was throwing a ball for his dog.   He appeared to be getting ready to leave so I pulled to a stop, rolled down the window and yes, he was leaving.   Cool!  I waved goodbye, pulled in, turned off the motor and stepped outside.  It was a broad wide open valley, peaceful and quiet, a small rushing stream off in the distance...yes, I like this place.  After picking up dog poop he left behind I let Beans out and set up camp which amounts to pushing the slide-out open about 4 inches.  Done.

Looking straight out from camp at a rushing stream that is just the right distance away.

I sat in my chair enjoying the scene and it slowly came to me why I was feeling so at peace here compared to camps in the past few weeks.  I like wide open spaces.   I like to be able to see for miles all around.   I like the sun and big unobstructed sky and seeing stars at night.  In the forests I was feeling confined, closed in.  Although the shade may be nice and cool some of the places were plain dark and gloomy.   I usually could see no further than I could throw a rock, that's if I didn't hit a tree first.  Finally, and you'll think I am really off after reading this, being camped right next to a rushing stream isn't all that romantic as I thought it to be.  The first night I couldn't get back to sleep from the noise and had to put in ear plugs.  Then the next day I found myself shutting the door just for some quiet as the constant noise was getting to me.

This brings up another point that came up while talking with my neighbors at the previous camp.  The lady said how the following weekend was a four day long holiday weekend (4th of July, Independence Day) and everywhere will be packed.  I had no idea this date was approaching.  I just don't think of holidays anymore and this one would have blindsided me.  I kind of panicked wondering what am I going to do and where are we going to go to escape the madness?

The mountain in the distance with the cleared strips running down it 

is the popular winter ski area of Sun Valley, Idaho.

Now I admit there are times I am a bit slow on the uptake and this is one of them. 

 It has taken up to now for me to realize why I have been having such an abnormal time on the road these past two months.  Sinbad and I always did our traveling in the fall or spring. 

 We never ventured out during the summer months when school was out and families are all over the park lands like a swarm of ants. 

Here Beans and I are right in the thick of "vacation time" dealing with this all these weeks.

 And with that revelation I felt just a little bit better about myself.

Lake Creek

Where we are is called Lake Creek. 

 One day I rode my bike three miles up the road and discovered why the name.

What a pretty setting for a camp, only room for one and 

yes, maybe I could get the Little House on the Highway up here.

But it is a single lane dirt road, a bit rough at this end 

and if I met someone coming up when we were going out

there would be a problem.

I was surprised to see such an elaborate long drop for just one campsite but the reality of it is if the Forest Service didn't have this here people would be doing their business everywhere imaginable and just think how awful this area would be then not to mention fouling the waters that flow down pass where I and a few others are camped.

I walked over to the structure and saw this.  Someone used a 9mm on the door. 

 I found the empty shell casings around in the lot.   I'll not say anymore.

Okay, I am.  Hopefully one of the bullets ricocheted and hit the pinhead.

Taylor Canyon Trail

Taylor Canyon Trail

Where we are camped is a side road up to the Taylor Canyon Trail. 

It gets a fair amount of cars going up and back stirring up the dirt and dust as they do so.  I walked up and it was not quite a half mile to the trail head.  Seeing this I saved the hike for a weekday.

An information sign before you start.

Brush off your boots and then go.

The day I went to hike it I got up there fairly early.  The canyon was still in shade and my hands were cold.   A local woman had just pulled in and parked.  After I mentioned how I wish I had my gloves she agreed out of kindness I suspect for she was wearing really short hiking shorts and a tank top.   She said that she'll do it in reverse to be in the sun more.  Great! I'll follow her for I had no idea where the end of the trail came out.  She turned to me and made a comment as to how nice the sounds of summer were and that was the last time I saw her within speaking distance. 

The trail immediately went up and up and up.

I don't know what I was thinking when I took these pictures.

This went on for a complete mile with no level parts.  Climb, climb, up and up.  The trail starts at 6,393' and tops out at 7504'.  It wasn't so much the climb but the altitude.  I am used to one tenth of those figures.  I was grumbling, sniveling, whining, wheezing and thinking about heart attacks.  Each time I stopped to take a picture, look at the view, get a drink I'd look up ahead and there she was a tiny little figure way way up there and still climbing.  "Oh Lord! Is there no end to this?"  Once I slowed my pace down from my usual 3 miles per hour I was doing better...sort of.

Finally it leveled out and I was fully recovered back to my normal self motoring along when all of a sudden an explosion of birds occurred out from the brush above me.  Scared the bejesus out of me.  I had spooked this grouse hen who burst out from the bushes scaring all the little birds around her in the process.

The goofy bird kept leading the way instead of going back to her nest.

Eventually the trail began to descend and I was glad I went the way I did.   Going the correct way the climb would have been more gradual but there would be that very steep downhill for the last mile and that would have taken a toll on my knees.  Length of trail was 3.82 miles.

Ernest Hemingway

We were leaving our camp as our three day limit had expired, there was this...

I don't know what to call it but it is imaginative. 

I'd like to know what pulls the two trailers but they were away at the time.  I assume the door into the wagon is in front.  The wood burning stove is neat.  I bet it heats up the inside in no time at all, 

plus you could cook on it too.

It wasn't far to our next camp location just outside of Sun Valley, a popular winter ski area. 

 It was here that Ernest Hemingway had a home and here he died on July 2, 1961.

The water in the foreground was very gray for some reason and stepping down from out in the sunlight into this shady area, wearing sunglasses, my eyes didn't adjust that quickly for the changing light conditions and I thought the water was cement.  I darn near stepped off into the water. 

That would have got my attention.

It bothered me that the artist didn't smooth out the facial features on the bust.

In town at the Visitor Center/Starbucks, both in what had to be the largest Starbucks I have ever been in although I haven't been in all that many and the Visitor Center amounted to a rack of brochures with a lady sitting at a table drinking a...well you guess, I learned that the local library had some Hemingway artifacts including his typewriter.  Cool, I'd like to see his typewriter.

At the library all they had were some photographs and a small bookshelf of books by various authors about Ernie you could check out.  The nice librarian said the typewriter was over at their museum a few bocks away and "it closes in 6 minutes".  He gave me a map and I decided to save the museum for another day.   Later I got to looking at the map and saw there was a $5 admission fee for the museum.   Five dollars to look at a typewriter hmmm...  I Googled  Ernest Hemingway's typewriter. Well there seems to be several of them scattered around the country.  I didn't go to the museum.