Days 22 and 23 – June 10 and 11 Last Chance Idaho – Hello Washington

I spent most of the day June 10 driving through Idaho. I broke camp in no hurry, and was on the road about 9 a.m. Deciding, as usual, to take the route that seemed the most scenic, I meandered along through the mountains from east to west, turning north to drive the highway that runs along the Payette River. It’s a beautiful drive, and the river runs fast through the first hour or so of it. I pulled over a few times just to watch the water tumble and smash over the invisible rocks, and was rewarded once by watching two kayakers navigate and negotiate the water.

There were a few vehicles pulled over, kayaks strapped to the top, waiting to be unloaded by men and women in wet suits and helmets. The places where they were parked seemed impossible to put in, but my guess is these are veterans at this business of running the river in their small crafts.

Not sure why it is significant, but seemed so . . .

Not sure where my final destination for the day would be, I simply headed for northern Idaho. As the day lengthened, I began to check the map for available campsites along the most scenic routes. I found Bell Bay Campground on the shores of Couer d’Alene, a large lake near Spokane, Washington. With no expectations, I drove to the campground.

The winding, three-mile road from the highway took me past farmland and forest. As I wound around to the lake, I spotted a cell tower atop a hill. I always feel like I’ve hit pay dirt when I have cell service, and here I had four bars of 4G. What a bonus.

The campsite sat right on the edge of the lake. There were only a few families in the campground, most campers having left for the work week I suppose, and it was quiet and lovely. I met a young mother with her two daughters who had decided to extend their weekend away by just another day, and the camp hosts – a lovely couple in their 60s I assume – stopped by to see if I needed anything, but other than that I had no intrusion on the quiet.

Deep valleys where the Nez Pierce called home

Finding this campsite, if you’ve been following my travels at all, was not an anomaly.  Time and again, I’ve found, without much planning at all, a really nice place to camp for the night. So it is curious to note that I, every day as the time approaches to find a place, get anxious. This is just one of the recurring anxieties I experience on the trip. I sometimes worry about what trails to take, whether I’ll be able to hike them, and if I’ve overshot my abilities. And I am constantly haunted by the looming month of July when I embark upon the John Muir Trail.

 

Thinking about this last night, I realized that I’m battling fear almost every day in one form or another. Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote comes to mind: “Do one thing every day that frightens you.” It seems I took that to heart. And I’m a person who likes to think I don’t live my life in fear of much. I’m certainly not an anxious person by nature, but on this trip there’s so much new and I’m doing so many things alone for the first time, I find myself in this almost constant state of anxiety. That is NOT how I want to live.

The pressure to be afraid is unfortunately strong in this human life we live. When I talk about the trip, one of the most common comments I get, from women especially, is "you're so brave" and one of the most common questions people ask me  is if I carry a gun. My regular response has been no, and to say I don’t want to emit that kind of energy – and I believe that. There’s not one ounce of me that wants to carry a gun. And I do believe we attract things to ourselves by our actions and decisions. But that said, I also know we, as human beings, often experience things that DO hurt us – physically and emotionally. I most certainly can fall and break my leg, get attacked by a bear or another human, or could run off the road on a mountain pass. But I have always chosen to live my life trying not to worry about those things.

But I have been worrying. The feeling of anxiety certainly seems to be testament to that. So how do I stop worrying? How do I trust that I get just what I need from the universe – no more and no less. It’s not like I can pick and choose; I’ll have the experiences I’ll have, regardless of the best planning and incessant worrying if I so choose.  

This is an important discussion –one that goes to the heart of this journey I’m on. I am a student of consciousness. My greatest desire, above all else, is to wake up to essence of who I am – who we all are – beyond these temporal bodies, minds, and emotional repositories. If I am awake to that true nature, there is absolutely never any reason to be afraid. As Byron Katie says, “Everything happens for us, not to us.” There is a trust that whatever happens is exactly what is best for me, even if it seems painful or disastrous. If I know all this, I wonder why I can’t live it with my whole being.

So I’ve decided to try to remember this when I feel the fear coming on. I’ve decided to question those fears and see what lies within them. And to trust that the universe is giving me exactly what I need at all times. What is arising might not feel like it’s what I need, and I may not like it, but that’s irrelevant. I think there’s a point of maturing spiritually that we realize what we think is best has not a whole lot to do with what’s best. That trying to visualize a perfect world and perfect outcomes, based on the oh-so-limited vision that we have, is just silly. My goal, then, is to welcome what arises on this journey without question. To walk into the experience whether it seems comfortable or not. And I have a strong sense that I will find comfort there regardless. It may not be the typical, garden-variety comfort we’ve come to think we need in our lives to be happy and content, but it will be comfort of a deeper sort. The kind of comfort that defies understanding and logic.

Having meditated on all this last night, I arose today with a new sense of adventure.

I left my campsite and headed toward the Colville National Forest and The Little Pend Oreille (pronounced “pondaray”) National Wildlife Refuge where I planned to camp. I stopped at a Walmart to restock a few things, met a lovely man while walking in from the car who suggested I visit the Grand Coulee Dam, and if I did to look him up, and stopped along the way to do laundry and catch up on the internet business I needed to do.  I chose to remember that each person I encountered today was intentional – that we had some little business to do, even if it was just to say hello in passing.

When I got to Colville, I found the National Forestry Service office with no effort, and visited for almost an hour with Nancy, the woman manning the desk.  She gave me all sorts of information and literature on the area and the hikes and campgrounds available. She asked me to send her an email and update her on my adventures, so I sent her the blog address. What a wonderfully helpful and kind woman she was.

I’m camped now, in a primitive campsite in the refuge, with not another soul in sight at either this collection of campsites or at the other one I looked at. And I’m content, not anxious. I’ll get up in the morning, and armed with all sorts of information, find a hike to take. I won’t worry if it will be too long or too short, too strenuous or too easy. I’m just going to pick a hike and go for it. And see what in the world the universe has in store for me tomorrow. 

Namaste.

Day 21 – June 9 The Sawtooth Mountains Up Close and Personal

Not sure what I was going to do today, I slept in a little till 9 a.m. After a leisurely rising, I thought I’d swing into Stanley and grab a Diet Coke, find out where to shower, and maybe use the WiFi before hiking. But when I got to town, I realized there was no Diet Coke on fountain to be found, so it was time to improvise

Feeling a real lack of direction on what to do or when to do it, I decided I would head south to visit Sun Valley – surely they would have a Diet Coke somewhere, and I could do a little sight-seeing.  I wasn’t  quite ready to hike, and not really knowing where to hike, I decided to think about it while I was driving. I did stop in the ranger station, but they were closed because it was Sunday.

As I drove toward Sun Valley, I passed a little store and thought I’d check it for Diet Coke. Sure enough they had it, and it turned out they had showers for sale too. While I was paying for the pop and the shower, I asked the cashier if he knew of any hikes. He asked how long and I gave my usual answer – five to 10 miles. He suggested a hike just a few miles up the road – a 10-mile round trip hike to Hell Roaring Lake. He explained it had a bit of a rise in elevation at the beginning, but for the most part it was a pretty level, laid back hike. After the exertion necessary for the hikes down in Utah’s canyon country, this sounded mighty fine.

So I went back to Stanley, changed clothes and sent my obligatory text to the support system about where I’d be hiking and for how long, and made my way to the trailhead. The shower could wait.

After packing a quick lunch, I headed out for Hell Roaring Lake. It was a beautiful hike. It felt good to be in a forest instead of on rock and dry, sandy, rocky ground. Parts of the trail were rocky where the mountain had fallen down on itself, but it was, as promised, a fairly easy hike.

The payoff, at the end of the first five miles, was a pristine mountain lake, running off into the river that ran along much of the trail. The lake was framed with the Sawtooth peaks – aptly named for the jagged ridge that runs across the tops of them. I sat for a while, ate my lunch, and simply admired the view. A few people came by both on foot and on horseback, but the tranquility of the moment remained.

 

Once I returned to the car, I returned to the little store to shower. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being really clean when you only bathe every few days. Watching the water run brown into the drain is a very satisfying feeling, knowing that dirt is no longer caked on my legs and feet.

I put on a pretty blouse (only the second time I’ve dressed in other than camp or trail clothes on the trip) and drove down to see Sun Valley. There wasn’t much to see but a lot of posh restaurants – none of which I wanted to spend my money in – and snowless ski slopes. There were some amazingly, or maybe obscenely, large and luxurious mansions behind fences, and there was a stable with barns nicer than most people’s houses.

After filling with gas and picking up a few groceries, I returned to my primitive, free campsite, cooked a hamburger over the open flames, and finished a good book.

Day 20 – June 8 Discovering Idaho

The day began just south of Boise where I’d camped at Bruneau Dunes State Park. I made a quick trip to the Boise REI and returned my backup sleeping pad (I’m going to go to Menards and buy just a very cheap, light-weight piece of foam I can cut to fit just my torso and easily carry). I used the return money to buy a few maps of Idaho – I had nothing as I’d not planned on including it on my trip.

The woman at REI showed me a really great map that showed all the campgrounds – including the free ones – and a map of the hiking trails around the Sawtooth Mountains. She suggested I hike and camp around there, so I took her advice. I was really glad I did.

I spent the afternoon driving up and over to the Sawtooth Recreation Area, and what a wonderful drive it was. I went up and then down a winding mountain road and then across the Ponderosa Scenic Highway. When I first glimpsed the Sawtooth Mountains, I couldn’t believe how stunning they are. I decided I would choose a campground just past the small town of Stanley so I’d be not too far from Sun Valley – I wanted to make a visit down there to check it out. 

The first campground I came to was about two miles outside Stanley, it was free, and it was on the Salmon River. And I had cell service. I quickly set up camp and then headed back to town to use the internet and treat myself to a light dinner. I found a little place – Papa Bruneau’s – that had both wireless and excellent, inexpensive pizza. I sat outside, enjoying the late afternoon air, and relaxed into the evening.

I wasn’t sure where to hike the next day, but I decided to not stress about it. I sometimes push myself a little too hard I think, and I decided to give myself a little break. I’ll be hiking 21 plus days in a row in a few weeks – I can relax a little on this trip I decided.

Back at the campsite, I wrote some and enjoyed the fire before turning in. Not a terribly productive day, but a nice, relaxing, one.

Day 19 - June 7 Desolation and Connection in Unexpected Places

The morning began with a disappointment. I was looking forward to taking a shower after I broke camp, and when I went to the showers, I couldn’t get either one to work. So instead I washed my face and brushed my teeth in a sink at least (instead of with a bottle of water), and decided I would look for a shower sometime during the day.

Great Salt Flats coming into view

My plans were to see the Great Salt Flats, so I headed north, with a slight easterly bent to swing back into Utah for a few miles. I did just that, and I found myself at the Bonneville Salt Flats International Speedway. I don’t know what I expected, but it was not just a sign explaining where the raceway was (and I still don’t know how a person could possibly find it in all that white) and an invitation to drive out onto the sea of salt. After looking at a few other people do it and thinking how this was an opportunity unlike any I’ve had before, I drove out onto the salt.

Amazed at how much it looks like shoreline at the ocean

What a strange, strange feeling. There are no paths, no markings, nothing but the traces of tire tracks running every which way. So I drove forward. I didn’t go as fast as I could; I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something could happen. I did get the car up to about 70, but then I backed it down a little. The salt wasn’t as consistently hard as I thought it would be, and there were places you could see a little brown mud in existing tire tracks.

I saw some trucks and a tent set up, and I drove toward those. I thought maybe that was the raceway. When I got there, I pulled up alongside the trucks, and a young attractive woman approached the car. She explained that they were shooting a film and I needed to stay out of certain lines of sight. She also said she’d seen one car get stuck and that the salt was a little thin in places.  Just what I wanted to hear.

I sat and watched for a little bit, but nothing seemed to be happening, so I thought I’d head back. That turned out to be a little more difficult than I thought it would be. I drove in what I thought was the right direction, and suddenly the car slowed and seemed to be losing power. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw my tracks were muddy. I’d hit some of that thin salt, and it was bogging the car down.

The salt is still in places, even after a wash

I didn’t want to stop because I was afraid I’d get completely stuck – even with AWD – so I kept driving, now no faster than about 40 m.p.h. I looked at the GPS to see where my route in had been, and I couldn’t even read it because the white was so bright. I had to pull it from its mounting and hold it close to my face to see the line. I was well off the line I came in on – I had drifted north without even knowing it. So I worked to get back to the way I had driven out, and before too long I could see a semi that had pulled up to the sign, and then a few cars, and then the sign. When I made it back onto the asphalt, my heart was racing and I was quite happy to feel that firmness under the tires. But man, what an experience. There’s not much more desolate than being out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but bright white as far as the eye can see.

Bella's Courtesy Shuttle to the ranch

After my heart rate returned to normal, I headed back into Nevada and then north toward Idaho. When I left the westbound interstate and started north, I passed two signs, each advertising the 24-hour availability of girls. I remembered that of course this was Nevada, so these were brothels. I turned the car around and headed down the short gravel road to the two competing houses of ill repute.

I decided this was an excellent time to do some research for my novel, so I approached Bella’s first. The man who answered the door said the owner had to give permission and she wasn’t there. I thanked him and drove across the lot to Donna’s Ranch.

August and Simone at Donna's Ranch

I was buzzed right in and greeted by a female bartender. I told her my business, and asked if any of the girls would be willing to talk to me. After giving her my business cards – both personal and WITCC – she disappeared into the back. In just a few seconds, a dark-haired woman about my age came out, apologized for being naked under her small robe, and sat down on the barstool next to me. This, I came to find out, was August. Then a blonde woman in her mid-30s appeared behind the bar and introduced herself as Simone. I met one other woman a little later, again about my age, named Natalie. All three were happy to answer any questions, and I began to ask them about their lives.

I’m not going to put a lot of what we talked about here – I’m going to write more on that in another venue with Simone and August’s help. They have quite the stories to tell, and I’m going to help them tell them. But for now, I’ll tell you about the experience. We sat and I listened to them tell some stories about their lives. I also learned a lot about how the brothel worked and who took what of the money they make. The state takes its 35% entertainment tax right off the bat, and then they have to pay for a weekly doctor visit and pay the house a cut. But they are independent contractors and set their own rates.

Simone gave me a tour of the house – the women live there while they’re working. It had a nice, airy kitchen with everything a person could want to throw together a great meal. There was a hot tub room and a big veranda out back. The local church women often bring food and flowers according to Simone. The best part about the tour was the history lesson. Simone is a history buff, and she was eager to show me much of the history there. The brothel has been in business since the late 1800s, and one of its biggest claims to fame is that Jack Dempsey frequented there often – they even have the “Jack Dempsey Room” with his picture on the front. He had a long-standing relationship with one of the women there, and only broke it off when his manager insisted it would hurt his reputation. But there were many other historical pictures and information throughout the house. It is clear they are proud of the long and colorful history there.

CB radio station - the girls are scheduled to talk to the truckers

When I said I had to leave so I could find a place to shower and camp, they generously offered for me to shower there – and I did. Simone let me use her private shower so I wouldn’t have to use the one the truck drivers used, and after my shower I sat and visited with them while I got ready.

I could have stayed much longer, but I was there for about two or three hours, and I needed to get to Idaho and find a tent site before it got much later. It would be difficult as it was since it was going to be late on a Friday night and many campgrounds are full for the weekend.

Simone, the history buff, posing by the early 20th c. piano

Before I left, August gave me a big goody bag of all the souvenirs they give out there, Simone gave me a book on the Outlaws of the West, and we exchanged hugs all around and contact information with the promise to keep in touch. It was a wonderful experience and I feel enriched after meeting these women and having them open up to me as they did.

It wasn’t too difficult to find a campground with space just outside of Boise, and the weather was about as nice as I’ve experienced on the trip. I left the tent flaps open all night and there was a nice breeze and stars and quiet – the perfect atmosphere to relax from quite an eventful day.