Feyala's Wanderings

I had met Barb (BSkye) at one of the local ADV gatherings. She mentioned that she and a friend of hers were going to go up Lolo Pass and visit Lost Lake, and invited Oz and I along. Sounds like fun, swimming and grilling! That pass and I had a score to settle…

The morning of the adventure, we found out that neither her friend nor Oz felt like going. It would be just the two of us, which was great, because it led to a more relaxed pace. I took my time getting ready, grabbing a veggie burger and buns on my way out the door.  I managed to find her place, and she gave me the tour. She packed a fish fillet and some ice for our food, and we scampered off to WinCo to buy an instant grill:

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Becky had to work, leaving us three by ourselves. What should we do to spend the time? With the hot weather, the question almost answered itself: swimming!

We set out on foot toward the nearest body of water, Didder leading the way. We ended up at the tip of Fernan Lake.

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We left for Idaho again in the late afternoon. I vetoed the idea to leave on the 4th – no way was I going to sit in bumper to bumper traffic to leave town. I picked the route at random, looking at a map to figure out what could be considered “on the way”. I was less than excited about going back to Idaho after that last death slog, honestly, but Oz had made plans, and it’s not like I’ve got a busy schedule. I spied Saint Helens and decided to go for it!

Venturing north, we cut off to smaller highways as soon as we crossed into Washington. We cruised along the 503 until it became a paved forest road. The route was great! Tons of twisties! Most of the road was narrow and had no shoulder though, so I didn’t feel comfortable stopping for photos. We passed several lakes, playing hide and seek with St Helens through the trees in the fading light.

I did manage to snap a single photo before it got dark:

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We arose from our slumber and got ready to go. Attempts to contact Oz’s mom got no response. Most of my stuff, and some of his, was in the trunk of her car. Including all of my riding gear. We couldn’t leave without it. Let this be a lesson to me, damn!

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Oz and I woke up to the sound of a truck and boats on the river. A few trucks were parked at the boat launch, most with now-empty trailers. We packed up the tent in a bit of a hurry to “destroy the evidence” of our illegal stay. Oz was not in any particular hurry and neither was I, so I told him I would be stopping often to take photos. Happily, he didn’t seem to mind.

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