We left Friday the 13th. What was I thinking. Road Trip...... We were traveling with Liz and Sopie and Elvis Fluffbucket. Their purpose was to pick up Delila Fluffbucket. We stopped at places like Mel's 24 hour dinner in Yakima. Free Pancake day. 14 hours later we arrived in Boise. (Oh, Liz would not stop at the Hungry Red Neck Cafe close to Lime Oregon. It might have been wonderful. But then we will never know. Drove through the College of Idaho and discovered the feed lot is gone and replaced with Trailer World for all your horse hauling needs.
We collapsed into bed. I was able to watch the last bit of Battle Star Galactica. My secret obsession. Then up early. Aunt Mary was first on the agenda we were able to see her. She was very weak, not really able to speak. I realized in an instant that the person I had spoken to a week before had left. We said our good byes, spent some time with Logan and the rest of the gang and headed on our way. Off to pick up the pups and then up the road to Riggins.
I guess we all return home, just like the salmon headed up to spawn. There is something deep in my soul that calls me back to those deep canyons, and angry rivers. I love the sounds and smells and the feel of pine shade, dusty yet inviting. I love to find places that know what "fry sauce" should taste like and how to put together a burger. We stopped for a bit along the Payette River. Hot, yet refreshing. Cold water that is trying to escape the canyons.
Through Cascade, McCall and then into Riggins. Population 404, two steakhouses, two bars, a grocery store, mini mart and a place where pesto was defined on the menu and a beautiful Best Western. The hotel sits on the point where the BIG SALMON meets the little salmon. Lots of fisherman, bikers, and fly catchers of the bird variety. We took a big heavy sigh and stayed for two nights.
Short visit with Cousin Mary and Barney, a trip of the Big Salmon. A roadside picnic and then a long haul home.
Those who traveled with me noted that I had a story for every bridge, had lived in every town, knew every rock and could comment on almost anything that passed before us. I completely resisted telling the story of Falling Rock.
So this is what I observed on my road trip back to Idaho this decade:
College of Idaho is smaller. The pick-up trucks are bigger. No one was wearing a Hillary for President Hoodie.
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