Sunrise Over the Palouse.
Onward to Idaho
Saturday June 7th 7:00 AM. Sacramento, Reno, Winnemucca. McDermitt, Steens Mountains, Cadwell, then finally Boise. Though long, the drive regrettably should have included several detours. The beautiful landscape was remarkably liberating.
To Boise via U.S. 95. Somewhere in Oregon.
To Lewiston via U.S. 95. Along the Salmon River, Idaho.
Boise reminds me of Napa Valley. Nice people, very nice neighborhoods, great climate, and extensive rural farmland. Come Sunday, I meet up with my friends Adam and his daughter Rebecca for some sport climbs. I’ve previously met these two Idahoans climbing in the Valley a short while back. When I mentioned I’d be up in Boise soon, they invited me for an outing.
Rebecca on Number Eight (5.9).
From downtown Boise, we take a short 15 minute drive and arrive at the Black Cliffs. The columns of basalt were definitely welcoming changes from the granite of the Sierras. Rebecca took the chance and lead up the first route of the morning, Number Eight (5.9). After a few rotations of top rope, it was my turn to lead. Up I go attempting to onsite a route called Circumciser (5.10b); Although I failed after pulling past an intimidating roof, taking a 20+ ft whipper right at the chains. Meh it was worth a shot…
After a few more routes, I said my goodbyes to my Idaho climbing friends and headed westward. I proceeded to follow the Salmon River northbound, passing through Grangeville and into Lewiston/Clarkston. Need to save some energy for the next few days.
The fields of Palouse
Lewiston, Pullman, Moscow, Colfax.
People who know me very well also acknowledge my loathing of early morning wake ups. I’m not a morning person. But my plan was to catch the morning light the next few days over the Palouse fields. So every evening I set my alarm for 2:30 AM. By 5am the sun rises, casting a sea of morning magic over the endless wheat fields of eastern Washington.
The hills of Palouse.
The Palouse is truly an amazing place. Driving through fields of evergreen wheat is something I thought only existed and lost in the mind of Steinbeck. It was hard not to romanticize these hills on empty roads; maybe it was the synchronous sound of trickling wheat grains brushing with the flow of gentle winds. Rolling hills, sinuously endless in a sea of deep green and clear endless sky.
Quiet towns, old barns, farming equipment, and towering wheat silos. Locals living harmoniously with the peaceful countryside. Small farm towns thrive with the blended characters of old and new. Images of Grant Wood and William Albert Allard come in mind. Iconically Americana, and indescribably fascinating.
Endless wheat fields.
Working the land. Farmers are able to grow wheat continuously and year-round over the fertile rich soils in eastern Washington.
Deer, prancing over tall wheat in the afternoon sun.
Newly sprouting wheat, growing linearly along a trail of tractor tires.
Occasionally come across these fields of canola flowers.
I unexpectedly spent a few days in the deserts west of the Palouse. While staying in Palouse Falls State Park, I came across Walter Ferguson from Walla Walla. The respectable and hospitable veteran of Iraq, my first encounter with Mr. Ferguson was during a moment on a hike where I saw him down climbing ropeless (with boots) over a 150 ft basaltic cliff-side. As I stared a bit in disbelief of his attempt, he waved at me, presumably indicating that he was alright and proceeded to finish his down climb.
A few hours later I met him back up at the top, where he introduced himself. He then retells the story of his sketchy traverse.
“Yeah, at that very moment you saw me on that cliff, a rattlesnake started slithering towards my arm!!”
Laughing it off as nonchalantly as possible, I got the feeling that he was immensely terrified. Though seemingly headstrong, Mr. Ferguson, a proud farmer and husband, is someone who has seen and experienced so much in his life. While conversing, it was hard not to have considerable respect for this man. A man who has seen two tours of combat now finds peace and simplicity in the vast emptiness of prairies and deserts.
W. Ferguson relaxes after a short hike in Palouse Falls State Park.
Onward to Wyoming…
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