Idaho - A Short Cut Through The Mountains?

by Bob McHardy

I'd bought a two month return ticket to Billings in S.E. Montana. The tour would include the National Parks, mountains and prairies. The area is thinly populated so there's a need to be self-sufficient.

On the second day, travelling south, I entered Wyoming and took the opportunity to camp out in the sage brush. At 5am I heard coyotes howling like freight train whistles. These are mournful, evocative sounds. Yellowstone National Park is in Wyoming's N.W. corner. It is a large, active, volcanic basin 6/7,000 ft up, surrounded by mountains with high passes. It was early June. (the Park opens in late May) Spring flowers were out, Sylvan Lake was still frozen, together with "Old Faithful". There are ponds of boiling water (pets on a lead!) mud pools and steam vents. Animals include bison, elk and grizzly bear. On campsites food and scented articles have to be kept in metal cabinets and rubbish in bear-proof skips. Fortunately I never saw one.

Heading west out of the Park I entered Idaho and on to a 5,000 ft tree-covered plain. These cleared to reveal a range of 11/12,000 ft mountains to the north. The road Hwy 22/20 ran west close to the mountains. This plain had been a volcanic area, Streams and rivers flowing south disappeared into the porous soil. They had names – Little Lost River and Big Lost River. At the western end of the plain is the Craters of the Moon National Park looking like an industrial wasteland with jagged piles of chocolate brown lava. It was here that N.A.S.A. tested the Moon Buggy.

The U.S. have a network of Interstates, the equivalent to our motorways. They too have restricted access i.e. no bikes. Some of these interstates are built over existing roads which makes (cycle) route planning difficult. It was for this reason I decided to take a short cut through the mountains and turned off Hwy 20 onto 61 to begin the northern section of the tour. The road ran in sweeping curves between low hills and permanent pasture the remains of the Camas prairie, (settlers had ploughed up the rest.) Camas look like our wild orchids with a single, pink, conical shaped bloom. Indians lived on the bulb type roots.

There began a three mile descent. Below was Anderson Ranch reservoir, too big for a ranch; probably part of a supply for the towns in nearby Snake River valley. It was a Saturday. Vehicles passed me trailering boats. Pine at the reservoir's north end was adapting to the leisure industry, its old wooden buildings gradually being replaced with hotels, lodges and expensive shops. Further on Featherville was undergoing a similar transformation.

I stopped off at a café/shop housed in one of the town's wooden buildings. The owner and his friends were sitting outside enjoying the morning sun. I ordered a coffee and a sandwich and got a proper 'cyclist's' sandwich. I was after information. I was using a double sided Montana/Idaho touring map which showed some gravel roads. The owner was very helpful and I was able to pencil in an important missing road. It was to be a four day crossing with a resupply at Idaho City. The gravel road (156) left the main road on the eastern side of town and climbed steeply easing off to become ridable after 6-7 miles.

I came to Rocky Bar, a ghost town. Some are privately owned as this was. I entered on the main street. Another led to Atlanta. This was closed with barriers across. The owners' house was on the south side of the junction with a builder's yard in front. House and yard were surrounded by security fencing with signs everywhere, KEEP OUT, NO TRESPASSING. On the northern side of the junction were two buildings both with new corrugated iron roofs. Timber buildings need a lot of T.L.C. The door was open on the second building. I looked in. Lining both walls were long counters and one askew which would have run along the back wall. A general store or a saloon? I'd like to think the latter. The imagination runs riot. Robert Service's 'The Shooting of Dan McGrew' comes alive.

I continued out of town, climbing up a valley. A grader had been through its blade scraping and levelling the road. There were small piles of sawdust where fallen trees had been cleared. It was midsummer's day. In 4-5 months it, like other mountain roads, would be closed for winter. By mid afternoon the gradient eased. I was nearing the head of the pass, above me to the N E was Steel Mountain (9730 ft). I made camp on a south facing slope near a stream.

Next morning it was a short push to the head of the pass at around 7,000 ft then the long, long descent to a crossroads, right for Atlanta, straight over for a hilly route to Idaho City, or left for a longer, easier route. I chose the latter. Still on gravel, Hwy 82 followed the west bank of the Boise river's middle fork downstream for 35 miles, the scenery changing from rocky alpine to arid gravel hills. Occasionally I'd pass groups of large (3"- 4") yellow and orange butterflies attracted for some reason to small roadside pools.

Thirty miles down in Twin Springs (Pop.2) a collection of holiday cabins and a bar. No coffee and sandwiches here. I make do with pop and crackers. I'm after information on Hwy 377. "It's washed out" says the owner and pulls out a topo map from under the counter and points to a narrow valley two thirds of the way in, but thinks I may be able to get through with a bike. Two miles down the road I camp by the river.

Next morning I continue. The river enters Arrowrock reservoir. I'd spent a night and the best part of a day beside it, heard it crashing over rocks, rushing down gorges, now all was silent. The road contoured around the shoreline. The turn off to Hwy 377 had a flaking information board listing various places, a campsite, ranger station and at the bottom, just legible under a narrow board nailed across it was "Hwy 21 – 12 miles" – the road to Idaho City.

The road led up beside a river, between trees and undergrowth in stark contrast to the bare scrubby hills around. I passed the campsite and ranger station still following the valley now in mature woodland. An area on the left had been cut down. Logging is controlled to produce a chess board effect of cut and uncut areas. There appears to be no replanting, just natural regrowth.

At the top of the climb the road turned sharp right. The top of the signpost was missing. I took a little-used road left, crossed a cattle grid which seemed a bit incongruous and to a short descent. Water had washed deep (2 ft) gulleys across the road. Quad bikes had been through. Abandoned in a woodland clearing was a fairly new red pickup truck, one of its front wheels askew. Further on highway authorities had put a bank of gravel across the road. 50 yds beyond this a stream flowed in from the right, ran under the road, turned and flowed down the valley beside the road. Some years previously whilst in flood it had washed out a section of the road.

The stream now was only a few inches deep and easily forded. Around a bend was a medium sized saloon car on its roof partly burned – a bit like finding a V.W. Beetle in the middle of the tunnel on the old Waverly line south of Hawick. The valley sides began to close in. The road was now completely washed away. I followed some quad bike tracks down the bank and across the stream. It was hard work forcing a way through the thick alder bushes. The tracks crossed and recrossed the stream, Eventually the valley opened out and the road reappeared and I was able to continue.

At a T junction I joined a well used wide gravel road past industrial buildings and houses to join Hwy 21 and tarmac. 7 miles later I was in Idaho City (Pop. 450). Hwy 21 runs NE through the town and now is the main thoroughfare. The old town grew up along a road running NW to the once prosperous gold fields and so has escaped development.

I spent an afternoon exploring the old town and next day headed for the gold fields. Nine miles along a sandy gravel road is New Centreville (probably late 20th C) a collection of ramshackle buildings either side of a river with a very wide flood plain pockmarked with old workings. Inhabitants here are an independent bunch lucky to be free from planning rules and regulations. Gold was discovered in the area in 1862. It is mined in two ways:-
(i) Hard rock mining. This is where an ore vein is followed into a mountain through tunnelling.
(ii) Placer mining. Here the ore vein is subjected to weathering. The gold particles find their way into streams and river-beds.

Placer mining requires just a pick and shovel, rocker boxes and pans. The mining companies had moved into the Centreville area bringing heavy machinery and steam dredgers. These gouge out the river beds using digger buckets fixed to an endless chain. The gravel is processed on board. Waste was conveyed onto the bank. The conveyor moved in an arc producing crescent shaped ridges of gravel.

There were no ruined buildings or abandoned equipment just piles of gravel covered with alder bushes. The road followed the river upstream. Dredging had stopped after about a mile. The next town Placerville dates back to the 1860’s. Towns begin by lining a thoroughfare (Main Street) then a grid system develops. Placerville was different, built around three sides of a neatly mown rectangle about half the size of a football field.

There was a bank of mail boxes, public toilets, band stand, covered picnic/BBQ area and the stars and stripes flying. It had a fire station and two museums housed in restored turn-of-the-century timber buildings. I continued.

A short climb led me to a crossroads then a long descent into the town of Garden Valley. The wealth and affluence came as a shock. Driveways led up to large houses built in alpine style with heavy timbers, overhanging roofs and balconied upper floors.

Gravel joined tarmac at Hwy 24. I stopped off at a petrol station/shop for a coffee and sandwich. There's always four blends (never tea) self service hot and cold food, sometimes a seating area. These had killed off the roadside diner, home cooking and waitress service, the stuff of movies. I followed Hwy 24 down the valley. The river, the South Fork of the Payette, joins the main stream at Banks where Hwy 24 joins Hwy 55. From here I continued on the northern leg of the tour.