Idaho - Day 1 - Lewiston down to Boise

Meridian/Boise KOA, Meridian

Friday, 1 July 2022

I knew Idaho is on Mountain Time, rather than the Pacific Time that Washington's on, so I changed my clocks before I left the campground.  Turned out the time zone wasn't on the state boundary but much farther along the line, but it still kept me from the sense of shock I've had when I get to a campground and realize it's much later than I'd thought.

today's route

Clarkston, where I stayed last night, sits right on the western edge of the Snake River, and its twin Lewiston sits right on the eastern edge.  So when I crossed the river, I saw a sign saying, "Welcome to IDAHO."

Idaho - my 40th state

Lewiston, pop. 31,894, is the "River Gateway to Hells Canyon, America's Deepest Gorge," they say.  And I passed the Port of Lewiston, which like Clarkston is an ocean-connected shipping port.  This may sound a little dopey, but before today I never juxtaposed Clarkston and Lewiston together in my mind, so I never realized who they were named for.  One of those light-bulb moments that should have come long ago.

A Maverick gas station offered regular at $4.84/gallon - the cheapest price in town by a dime, and the cheapest price I've seen for quite a while.

Somewhere around that station was when I lost my way, and I ended up on a 10.5-mile round trip detour.  I stopped at a church and tried to access the internet, but maps refused to load so I had to go back based on trusting my instinct that I was on the wrong road.  I was, but when I went back, I could see that it wasn't my fault: Google hadn't done a good job of telling me what the highway signs would say.  

Anyway, it was a stressful situation, compounded by a terrible smell that told me there was probably a pulp mill somewhere nearby.  And my nose was right; the Lewiston Pulp and Paper Mill was established here in 1950.  I'm sure it's great for employment, but that terrible smell is bad for the overall well-being of residents.

I came to an area of alleged road work, but the only signs of it were markers limiting us to 1 lane - and the markers were fully in that one lane so I was forced to drive on those stupid ridges along the side of the road that are supposed to alert the driver that he's off the main road.  Well, I don't have the kind of suspension system and shock absorbers in this vehicle that passenger cars have, so miles of riding on those ridges was hard on my nerves, especially because it was pointless.  No workers, no equipment, no dug-up road - just the markers.

The check-engine light was on from when I first started the engine, and that worry added to my sense of stress.  You know, I look forward to each new state, and I looked forward to Idaho because I've never spent much time here.  But all of these little things were adding up to a not-so-positive feeling.  But I've got a whole month here, and I'm sure it'll get better.

A sign told me, "Idaho is too great to litter," which was more creative than other such signs.

I came to the Nez Perce Indian Reservation and the Nez Perce National Historic Site.  I looked that up and the National Park Service told me that it includes parts of 4 states and 38 separate sites associated with the Nez Perce tribe.

The town of Lupwai, pop. 1,134, is the "Land of the Butterflies," they say.  I was curious and learned that butterflies used to be abundant in this area, and the town's name comes from the Nez Perce word for butterfly and the sound its wings make: "thlap-thlap."  I didn't see butterflies but I did see large grain silos by the railroad tracks.

I passed the turn for the town of Culdesac.  I didn't actually believe it was a town and looked it up and learned it is, with about 400 residents, and it got its name from being at the end of a railroad line.

Throughout the drive, I saw signs that said, "Chains advised beyond this point when road is snow covered or icy."  Other states say chains are required; Idaho says drivers should think hard about it.

The road began a long slow steady climb, and I passed large fields of canola and grains.  At first I saw steep wooded hills straight down to the river we were following; later the ground became crop-covered rolling hills with mountains in the distance to the east.

I couldn't figure out from the map which mountains I was seeing.  In fact, the AAA map of Idaho seems like it's mostly federal land, so I looked it up.  And I learned that 40% of Idaho lies in one national forest or another - the greatest percentage of all the states.  It's almost 21 million acres worth.  And a further 4.7 million acres is in designated wilderness status.  One of them, the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, is the largest designated wilderness in the Lower 48 states.  So yeah, Idaho's got a lot of federal land.

Near the town of Fenn, I saw a sign that said, "Slow Down - Take Your Big Foot Off the Gas."  I know I've never seen that sign before.

Somewhere around Grangeville, pop. 3,141, I heard on the radio (not an NPR station) a song that I think was called "Don't Be a Fire Jerk" about fireworks safety.  It was sung to the tune of Stars and Stripes Forever, and it was really funny.

And I passed a sign saying I could turn to go to the geological site of Salmon River Canyon.  I hadn't heard of this, but it turns out I should have because this canyon is the 2nd deepest in North America, behind only Hells Canyon.  It's more than a mile deep for a distance of over 180 miles, which is a long way for that level of depth.

I crossed John Day Creek - I'm assuming the same guy who has half of Oregon named after him.

I passed a historical marker titled "Fabulous Florence," and when I looked it up I learned that in 1861 a fabulously rich lode of gold was found nearby.  The resulting stampede of gold miners created the town of Florence, almost all trace of which has since vanished.

A sign advertised "7 year honey for sale."  I didn't know honey got aged like cheese and alcoholic beverages.

A sign told me I'd entered the Mountain Time Zone, and nearby I saw Time Zone Road.

The road had been running alongside the Salmon River for some time, and I'd seen lots of whitewater all along the way.  Then I started to see rafts and fishing and then came to Riggins, pop. 410, "Idaho's Whitewater Capital," they say.  That town seems much bigger than its population would suggest, and maybe it's so strung along the road that I saw every inch of it.  From what I did see, this town is built on river tourism - places to rent various types of floats and boats and places that offer various types of tours and so forth.  If it's Salmon River related, Riggins has it.  By the way, the Salmon River is the longest free-flowing river in the Lower 48.

As I drove through the area, I found the 2-lane tiny-shoulder road was lined solid with parked vehicles belonging to the fishermen that were lining the riverbank.

I saw a coffee shop with a sign saying, "All You Need Is Love - and Good Coffee."

And I saw another sign that said, "Salmon Lives Matter - Give a Dam."  I can't remember if I mentioned this when I was in Washington, but the federal government has recently concluded that the run of salmon that uses the Salmon River (note the river's name) has dwindled to nearly unsustainable levels in recent years.  Folks have tried just about everything they can think of to build the stocks back, without success.  This new report recommends removing 4 dams on the Salmon River, all within the state of Washington, because they're barriers to the salmon migrating successfully.  

Washington officials are in favor of this.  Idaho officials aren't.  And they aren't because Idaho farmers stand to lose a lot of money if the dams are taken away.  That made no sense to me, but I found an article that explained right now Idaho produces a quarter of the nation's wheat, and half of it is sold around the world.  Farmers are able to do that competitively because they can use barges to ship their crops downriver through the dams.  Otherwise they have to use the seaport in Lewiston which doubles their costs and would force them to look for other markets.  I'll be interested to see how this issue is resolved.

The road switched to the Little Salmon River, according to a sign, and for a while it was nothing but rapids.  I saw several nice little waterfalls along the road, too.

I saw a dead deer beside the road, followed by a sign warning of "Game Crossing Next 10 Miles."

A biker passed me - technically legal based on the lines in the road - but a curve was coming despite the lack of warning and I was going 65 mph (the limit) and the biker was almost splattered onto a large RV coming our way.  I hope it scared that biker into being a bit more cautious.

A section of the highway was adopted for litter control by, I think, "Yahweh's 666 Je Warning."  Something like that, anyway.  I tried to look that up, but everything I found was nearly gibberish to me.  If you can figure out anything about it, let me know.

I passed several places where I could turn and find hot springs, according to the signs.  One of them was down Bain Road - doesn't that mean "bath" in French?

I saw a few horses, a lot of cows, and 2 yearlings butting heads together in a pasture.

A sign said I'd reached "The 45th Parallel - Halfway Between Equator and North Pole."

The town of Council, pop. 816, was getting ready for its 4th of July Saw Contest.  I think there may also be porcupine races, though I'm not going to ask what those are.

I passed a bicyclist flying a small Texas flag.

My stupid refrigerator started beeping - who knows why - and I couldn't stop to fix it for 5 minutes.  That may not seem like a long time, but think how irritating just a telephone ringing is for a short time, then turn that into a beeper and run it continually for 5 minutes.

And now my brakes are making a new sound when I step on them - a little like humming through a comb wrapped in tissue paper (did you used to do that when you were a kid?).  I sure hope I can find a place to fix them when I get to Twin Falls, where I'm planning to be over the July 4th period.

In the town of Cambridge, pop. 360, I saw a sign saying "Since Jan. 1 we have served 3,750 happy guests and 4 grouches."

I started seeing lots of butterflies on my windshield.  Way past Lupwai but a shame, nonetheless.  I like butterflies.

Finally at about 1:00 we got to a rest area.  Idaho seems to be following the trend I've been seeing in these western states of limiting where dogs can walk.  In this case, though, it was definitely not to preserve a stretch of lawn.

This is the charming area set aside for pets.
But it came with a caveat:

Snake area?  Not where I want to walk my dog.

So instead we walked around the perimeter of the parking area, and I found a historical marker.

This area was a prehistoric industrial hub.

I came to 2 hilltops, one at 3,326' and the next at 3,338'.  Lewiston is the lowest point in Idaho at 738'.  I knew the road had been climbing. 

At the town of Weiser, pop. 5,507 and Home of the Wolverines, I passed the historic train station.  It was built in 1907 and has been refurbished, now that it's no longer being used as a depot.  Weiser lies along the Weiser River and includes a business called Psycho's Salvage.  I'm just reporting.

I saw another "game crossing" sign, and another dead deer.

As I was nearing the town of Payette (which had no sign), someone passed me and 2 other vehicles all at the same time, on a curve, in a no passing zone.  Then in town someone else turned right in front of me and then slowed down suddenly to make a left hand turn.  Am I going to have to put up with an entire month of this kind of driving?

Then came Fruitland, pop. 4,683.  And I saw a sign that said, "Counting to 10 just makes it premeditated."  I guess that's one way to look at trying to control your temper.

From there I joined I-84, where the speed limit was 80 mph.  I have no idea why.  The road is absolutely not special - it's just 2 ordinary (not even particularly wide) lanes on each side.  Needless to say, I wasn't going 80 - or even the 70 mph limit for trucks.

Idaho has a trigger law banning abortions, and I heard on the radio that doctors in states that allow abortions have to be monitored to be sure they aren't giving out-of-state abortions.  This is a strange time we're going through.

And for the first time today I came to a community of substantial size: Meridian, pop. 87,743.  I'd seen online that about a block from my campground the town had a dog park, so we stopped off there to let Dext stretch his legs.  That was a very impressive dog park - absolutely huge with lots of features including little grassy hills and a big wading pool (for the dogs).  And dozens and dozens of dogs.  Dext was a little wary and didn't try to go far away from me, which was fine with me because I wasn't sure how he'd do with all these other big dogs.  But he seemed fine with everyone he met, which I found reassuring.  I still don't know if he's just matured or if his experiences on this trip have mellowed him, but he seems to be a lot better with other dogs than he was a few years ago.

Then on to tonight's campground.  It was a long day - it took us nearly 8 hours to get from Clarkston to the dog park.