Westward ho...

Our allotted time for Yellowstone has elapsed as we drive south out of this park into another, Teton National Park. Forest of huge straight lodge pole pine line the highway until we reach Jenny Lake and the silhouete of the Teton range beyond. Across the lake a wild fire burns as smoke coats the mountains in a blue haze. We turn left into the Gros Ventere area and the small town of Kelly where my sister has rented a small cabin for 20 years. Her Jackson residence. Often in the summer she sub-rents the cabin and stays in two authentic sheep wagons she has acquired. Sarah and I spend time examining these ancient trailers of simple efficiency to add to the mental blueprints I maintain for the time that I will build my own ship of the road.

Driving thru Jackson, altho nostalgic, is stressful with traffic, tourists, buses, souvenir shops, tourists, and depressing new developments. A white knuckle drive over Teton Pass (at a 10% grade it is one of the steepest passes in the country) I reminisced with Sarah about the killer backcountry skiing I've done at the summit as we dropped into Idaho. Anne, who had so graciously offered to dog sit Herman while she visited a friend about 3 hrs west called to say she was having a good time and wondered if she could stay another day. We agreed to pick up the mutt on our way home the next day. Our final night at the Tetonia cabin included pizza at Tony's in Driggs and a quiet evening of packing and reflection of how we too could eagerly live this simple rustic way if we wanted to.

Sunday morning we meet Anne and her friend and accept a kind offer for breakfast. As Sarah is renewing her relationship with Herman, Paul shows me a round the place: the log cabin he is building alone by hand (including felling and stripping the logs), the ultralight he is building and the rare Harley he is restoring. A pleasant and comfortable man I hope to see more of in the future.

We are convinced to take the more northern "scenic" route around the Sawtooth range. Assured it would be prettier and it "really isn't any longer" than going thru the desert, we chug up winding narrow mountain roads with shoulders of nothing but air and follow horse trailers of firewood till we get to Boise. It is pretty. Dinner is Burger King on the road in my lap and an argument with Sarah for dessert about what to do about the "check engine" light that is now on. (nothing critical. Time for scheduled oil change. I win!). We arrive in Burns after dark and pull into the first open motel we come to. The Silver Spur Motel is on the east end of town. It ain't Days Inn but it is comfortable, dog friendly, cheap and has a very acceptable continental breakfast.

Our drive back into Eugene included a stop in Sisters so Sarah can check out some yarn shop. I picked up bread and cheese sticks at our favorite bakery, some salami and cheese and a bottle of 3 buck chuck at Rays. We stopped for a picnic along the Metolius. Sarah had never been there. I, however, have a history of breaking/dislocating my right pinky finger while boating this fast cold river when I fell running back along the trail to rescue a friend who had gotten stuck on a rock. Thank goodness "nurse mode" kicked in so I was able to reshape my finger and get a ring off before the pain and swelling started.

Home at a reasonable hour. Unpacked. Read the mail. Watered the plants. Plopped my butt on the couch to watch TV. Adventure over for now. Starting to plan our next but will probably keep it at or near sea level! May play with this blog thing for a while. Have some tricks I'd like to learn. Also, can't think of a better way to "get myself published". Kind of like writing on the bathroom wall, ain't it?