GET ME OUT OF IDAHO!

Do you remember the story of the Little Engine That Could? The circus had to get over the mountain and their transportation had broken down. All the engines strong enough to do the job refused to help, and then came along a little blue engine...



We headed South leaving Pocatello behind us. We'd had a crappy breakfast at Denny's and were looking forward to Wyoming and Colorado. To continue South into Salt Lake City would mean testing "Gutless" at elevations we weren't sure she could handle.

Instead we cut East along US 30, continuing to follow the Oregon Trail, this time to Soda Springs. This route of the OT was one of the busiest during the frontier days, used by trappers exploring the mountains and valleys for furs, pioneers heading West towards the Snake River and Mormon settlers looking to establish farming communities. This stretch of road, between Lava Springs and Montpelier, is designated a scenic byway and justly so, mountain meadows dotted with yellows, blues and reds bunched beside clear streams filled with fish, evident by the fly fishermen along the banks. Outside lava Springs billboards advertise the new waterpark. Its colorful tubes and platforms echo the giggles and screams of young fun as we pass by. Other signs remind us of the historical significance of the hot springs found throughout the area.


Not far out of Lava Springs we begin the ascent, slowly climbing, aware of the thermostat gauge. Our speed slows to 30 mph...25 mph...20 mph. The engine's temperature increasing a little each time. At mile marker 19 the thermostat reading shoots into the red zone! Dave pulls over as we watch a semi-hauler creep pass. We process our options, verbalizing alternatives to heading back. In the end our best solution is to return to Pocetello and do the repairs. From a local petrol station, allowing Gutless to cool down, Dave orders a new clutch fan and thermostat from Checkers, who assures us the parts would be in the next day by 10a.

What a way for Dave to spend his birthday, a bad breakfast, a blown thermostat, and another night in Pocettello Idaho. However, all was not lost! Retrieving the Red Lobster gift card from its hidy-hole (thanks to John back in Bend) I informed Davey we'd be eating out, so get showered and put on a good shirt!
What a wonderful way to end the day. A romantic quiet meal out, I had the trout and he had the lobster, then home curled up with the cat, together on the bed watching a movie. Outside the rain fell and the lightening lit up the sky. Tomorrow would be a new day with new challenges and new surprises. Besides isn't this what life is all about, tackling the hurdles and embracing the achievments together?


We awoke with overcast skies, but no rain, and a promise of sunshine. The parts we needed came in earlier than expected and so Dave rode his bicycle the mile to the shop to pick them up. With his head under the hood Dave methodically tore down the area he was working in and then carefully put it back together. As he was nearing the end of the process I heard some strange #%*& coming from the front of the truck.


"I didn't get a replacement casket, Honey will you go back and pick one up for me?"

Dave called a head to Checkers to make sure they had one. I then ran/walked/ran to the part shop. The woman there couldn't find where they had been moved the caskets, then she couldn't find the right casket, and when she did find them she had to double check the type number with the other fellow there. They were kind enough to not charge me, but after all that and running back to the truck it turned out NOT to be the correct casket after all. Dave was not a happy camper. He put the part he was working with in his backpack, got on his bicycle and rode back to Checkers. I got a call to tell me that they never had that part to begin with and when he finally got back to the truck almost 2 hours had past. He had had to ride to the other end of town. With the part in hand it did not take him long to get the rest of the project together.

We got the trailer hooked back up, filled the fuel tanks and headed out, following the way we had started the day before. We started up the infamous hill, everything appeared to be okay. The thermostate gauge was registering normal...traveling at a steady 35 mph we got closer to the original turn-around point. Fingers crossed we dropped to 25 mph, still going good... We reached the 19 mile marker, no indications of a problem.

Now do you remember the Little Engine that Could? All the way up that mountain the little blue engine kept saying "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..." and so we were saying the same thing only Gutless was saying with us "I know I can, I know I can, I know I can..." and sure enough we made it to the top and rolled easily into Soda Springs without anymore problems.


"We thought we could, we thought we could, we thought we could..."

Love to you all,
D&V, and Sackett too

1,2,3,4... part 2

"And now Harry let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress adventure."

- Prof. Albus Dumbledore

Pretty country with pockets of willows, sage, and pine... Eastern Oregon is much greener than anticipated or remembered. I wonder why more settlers didn't stay? Dave reminds me that they had greater dreams in mind, which meant greater risks and further distances to travel. Dreams are important and although some level of risk is involved with everything we do, it is with faith that we are able to set the process in motion. You can't really have one without the other; all three- dreams, risk, and faith, are essential elements for adventuring.



Nineteen miles out of Pendleton we stop at Deadman's Pass. Banana's, juice, and donuts constitute our breakfast break, allowing "Gutless Wonder" a well deserved rest. We have entered the Blue Mountains, steep and exciting, a landscape that strikes fear into the hearts of many travelers. "Their lofty peaks seemed a resting place for clouds", one emigrant noted in their personal journal. It is here that the settlers looked towards the west believing the next big obstacle would be the Cascade Range. Sadly this would not be the case as the arid desert of eastern and central Oregon awaited them.

Traveling the Oregon Trail backward we reach Baker City, leaving the Far Blue Mountains behind us...
In 1861 gold was discovered just sw of Baker City, altering the migration pattern of the eastern emigrant, Pioneericus oregonidae. Eastern Oregon now became the new destination of choice. With plenty of water, grassland, and now gold many pioneers, who had earlier passed through on their way to the Willamette Valley, retraced their wagon ruts and returned to the Powder River Valley. New emigrants seeing the rich fertile land for the first time stopped no longer wishing to continue further West. As we passed through Burnt Water Valley on our way to Idaho territory we looked for the legendary landmark, "The Lone Pine Stump", once a large singular tall pine that stood in the midst of an immense plain. This landmark symbolized an unending determination for trappers, Indians, missionaries and settlers, and their ability to survive against unsurmountable odds. In 1843 this sentinel of the eastern plain was chopped down.

We crossed into idaho without much incident. My first impressions of this state imprinted on my mind from an earlier trip almost thirty years ago. I still remember the brown crusty Christmas tree on top of a single wide trailer, large multicolored lights adorning dead branches in the middle of Summer. And the woman in a luncheon cafe, nonchalantly picking her nose, rolling the contents into a ball and then dropping it in her coffee, which she proceeded to drink with sweetener. I was hoping this latest visit would dispel past memories.

Southern Idaho is flat, flat, flat and deathly dry. Between the discovery of gold, silver and thw Carey Act of 1894 Idaho became populated. With the establishment of dams all along the Snake River the desert land was reclaimed for agriculture and now produces one-third of the nations potatoes, peas, and onions. Driving with the windows down my olfactory is filled with the hint of fresh mint and moist soil. Two hundred plus miles of Harry Potter passed the morning away. Not far out of Mountain Home (no mountains in sight) we heard a familiar BANG! Same side different tire tread. Potter goes off, Jones jumps out "destined to be dirty". Les Schawb here we come! Now I must say this may seem an inconvenience, however it turned out to be a real blessing. Apparently our rig was getting tired of the mundane flatness and needed a change of scenery. Leaving the interstate behind, we found ourselves driving towards Buhl, a small town on US30, and as it turns out the most beautiful country in southern Idaho.

Hagerman Valley, an oasis stretching along the Snake River, is known for its thousand springs. Channels of under ground rivers cascade off cliffsides forming frothing waterfalls, hot springs and lush landscapes. Journeying down one hillside a sign indicates dinosaur digging and fossil excavation. LAND OF THE LOST is all I can think about. Having replaced two tires on the road Dave decided to place this third spare on the trailer, using one of the original remaing tires as backup. One of the great things we have been doing as we drive, when not listening to HP, is learning about the areas we pass through. Using Lonely Planet as our guide I read the history and fascinating facts aloud. In this way the places we drive through come to life and is more than just a name on a milage marker. Thus we find ourselves eating a picnic lunch, while overlooking Shoshone Falls. Not eager to return to the hot asphalt of I-84 Dave made an executive decision to hang out until late afternnon when it'd be cooler to drive. We plugged the point of interest into the navigational system and away we went.

Oh My Gosh, we are so glad we stopped!!! Like something out of a Tarzan movie this 212 foot waterfall was magnificent. Saving the $3 we hiked down, down, down to the picnic lookout and laid on the green velvety grass, Dave napping and I sketching. It's amazing to think this is part of the Snake River. Historical kiosks tell the story of this once impressive fall that due to damming and irrigation is reduced to a mere essence of its former self, although still very awesome. After a long rest and ready to get back on the road we made our way to the trailer.Upon reaching the the parking lot Dave exclaims, "Oh S--- where are the Keys?" Leaving me at the truck he ran all the way back down, frantic to find our means out of here. Minutes passed and I get a call,
"I can't find them, I checked where I was laying last but only found some quarters!"
"What about where you were calling Mark?"
"Where was that?"
And like a reward challenge on a reality show for couples I had to direct Dave back to the first spot we had been, without any visual references. "Found them!", came a relieved reply.

That evening, in Pocatello, we slept under the infamous halogen lights. I reflected on the past 800 miles wondering what the next leg of the journey would hold for us. Sackett curled at my feet, Dave snoring at my side. Adventuring sure can be rough.



Wonder Woman welcomes you to Shoshone Falls!






Thinking of you all fondly- D&V



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