I Don't Care Where We Go From Here, Honey You Decide!

Still living in the past, I am. Partly that is a result of it being No Fun to be back in the office, especially in mid-summer. But it is also these persistent images of wide-open spaces and memory of the open road (admittedly not quite on Jack K's terms).

I have possibly several more vacation-posts in me, or at least the pics (and inspiring lyric-quotes) for same. I realized after the last that I might have left some (one?) curious as to just what the hell this trip included - or at least those map-phobic or not equipped or inclined to struggle through tracing our peregrinations via clues in last post.

Our original routing was keyed to a few nights in Sun Valley, Idaho, a spot neither of us had ever visited before. We made a reservation there ($gulp$) and decided to wing the rest of the week+- trip. I was drooling over the chance for roads and routes I had never experienced. I did a little rafting on the lower mainstem of the Salmon River a few decades back, but discount that experience in terms of road-experience. I was a passenger, youthful and oblivious, much of the driving was at night, etc., etc. But White Bird and Riggins were familiar names, and I had a bit of deja vu over amazing hairpin descent to the Salmon.

From SV, I had us headed north to explore the Clark Fork as a route back to the land of green. We had greatly admired the eastern section of this river on the way to Flathead Lake last year and I was eager to see more. My original plan was that we would do something fairly mundane in terms of a return to Seattle, possibly relying mostly on I-90, though with a visit to major birding site(s) SW of Spokane. As things progressed though, I got intrigued with more adventurous options to the north, involving Kettle Falls, Republic, and Omak (crossing route of return last year from Jasper and Okanogan Valley) and possibly across the North Cascades.

We scrapped that upon hearing of fires in the Omak area. We were unable to get word on where or if there might be road closures, so settled instead for the oddity of swinging south across our outbound tracks to re-visit Walla Walla, making for a figure-eight. WW is an old favorite not only because of the state prison but because our son attended Whitman College. We have fond memories of visits back in the late '90's, and enjoyed the remarkable expansion of the winemaking industry in the area. From there, the route became far more mundane and familiar, utilizing alas almost exclusively the wide concrete expanses of the Interstates, though with a vegetable-full stop at Imperial Gardens outside of Yakima.

I forgot to acknowledge another trip-factor of more consequence as it turned out than any political red-tinge: caffeine. After 24 hours without the proper cuppa, one of us was starting to twitch pretty seriously without her Starbucks fix. We spotted nary a one between SV and Missoula ("Starbuck" w/o "s" as seen in prior gazateer means nada in terms of caffeine!); pic shows the eventual Roasting Oasis. I was intrigued that they seem to have muted the trademark green and other stigmata, perhaps realizing that while Montana is not Idaho, it ain't Seattle either. The place seemed pretty low-key.

With luck I will be piecing together what an engineer might call an "as-built" map of our final route - I'm certainly interested in seeing how it played out. That and another pic or two might make their way into the blog in the next week or so.

But I must also get back to subjects like the life and times of Gonzales. I have vague recall that there is an interesting Congressional interview scheduled for next Wednesday. And the increasing spunk on the Hill promises to make the next few months interesting. I am in the end-stage of reading Greg Palast's exceptional blockbuster "Armed Madhouse," which I strongly recommend to those with a constitution of steel. And the Obama-Clinton dustup is of interest. Etc. Etc.

Takin' to the Backroads

I'm back from a bit of decompression, having traversed some of the little remaining indefatigably politically red-toned area left in the US of A. In this case that would be Idaho (though, truthfully, the eastern portion of the Other Washington is probably not truly politically distinguishable from the land of Taters). We did get some questions about our travel plans. Heat, drought, and fire-hazards turned out to be more important in the way of issues than the hostility. Actually there was little if any of the latter. Doubtless I could have stirred some up with a flag patch on my ass or something, but this was not about that.

This was about obscure backwaters and byways. As little multi-lane as possible (a challenge these days, of course).

In my exuberance over out-of-the-way I assembled this list of the more obscure communities we passed through, some with scarcely a notice on our part!

Thorp – Kittitas – Vantage – Beverly – Schawana – Smyrna – Anson – Othello
Koren – Washtucna – Starbuck – Dodge – Houser – Pataha – Alpowa
Lapwai – Sweetwater – Jacques – Culdesac – Ferdinand – White Bird
Riggins – Crouch – Sunbeam – Challis – Sula – Lolo – Evaro – Ravalli
Dixon – Parma – Paradise – Noxon – East Hope – Hope – Talache
Cocolalla – Athol – De Smet – Potlatch – Ringo – Palouse – Dusty
Long – Dumas – Dixie – Touchet – Reese – Wallula – Attalia – Zillah
Toppenish – Selah

I haven't come up with a rhyme-scheme, never mind a tune for that little refrain, but even as a simple mantra it seems to me those names work some wonders in terms of invoking some of the historical influences in the Pacific NW and the basic principle of dodging destination resorts (I was only partly successful at that). But those burg-names work a charm on me.

In the meantime, I'm very glad to hear that investigations, hearings, subpoenas, et al are even more the talk of the town than they were when last I plugged into the InterTubes. We'll doubtless be back on topics of that sort soon.