The Road Less Traveled…For a Reason

I imagine the great explorers of this country to be a hardy lot. The rest area in Chamberlain South Dakota does a nice job of paying homage to just such a pair: Lewis and Clark. Someday I imagine a rest-area with a James and Donelle exhibit and Kaia the husky dog as our Sacajawea. She’s a trusty sidekick but I could forgive our descendants if there’s no statue of her. She’s good company and all but as far as assigned tasks we just don’t get much out of her.

Had she only been just a little adept at reading the map or urging us to do some better route planning, Donelle and I wouldn’t have found ourselves blazing trail through the wilderness. What should have been a three-hour tour stretched into nine and tested the metal of the Chevy and the mettle of its occupants. Well, Kaia somehow managed to sleep through most of the adventure I’m about to describe but the rest of us were never so happy to reach pavement with twilight barely holding on before yielding to complete darkness.

We left the campground in Washington and headed east toward Idaho to explore the beautiful towns near Lake Pend D’Oreille. It was about an hour drive and we had no trouble navigating to a Home Depot on the north side of the lake. With that mission completed we decided on a nature drive around part of the lake. Fired up by a level gravel road winding through the backwaters and a mountainous backdrop, our first mistake was made.

In our enthusiasm to chase down more scenic awesomeness there was just a little breakdown in navigational awareness. We pointed the truck toward Granite, Idaho on the west shore of the lake and before long we were heading up gravel at an angle that neither we, nor the truck, had previously experienced. It was nice gravel road in all other respects unless you count the zig zagging and the precipitous drops off first one side of the truck and then the other. 

Upon reaching the top, we made our second mistake…we didn’t turn around. Instead we gave back the 2500 feet of elevation and switch-backed our way down the forest development road to the bottom of another valley. 

This was to become a repeated activity for the next several hours, going up one side of a mountain and down the other. And just a little side note, the further you get from a tar road the worse gravel gets. Apparently other people tend to turn around.

At one point we came upon a fellow traveler who had stopped his ATV to photograph from a breathtaking overlook. He took note of our license plate and pointed out, “You’re sure a long way from home.” I thought I heard judgement in the tone of his voice but we had a very friendly conversation and he offered us a beer. I politely declined. Future me, it turns out, would later chide me mercilessly for declining his offer.

Several hours in, with Google maps indicating we were nearing our destination, there were approximately zero signs of civilization. And that’s when I stopped forward progress and we took a closer look at the map. We were about half way down the back side of the lake. It turns out that Granite, while warranting a note on a map as a location worthy of capitalizing, is less the name of a town than it is a description of the rock you see when you arrive.  

Time for a brief inventory… The two pieces of toast we’d eaten for breakfast were well used up. We’d taken our hiking gear, snacks, and jackets out of the truck right before we left. Thankfully Kaia had a large bottle of water and a baggie of doggie treats which looked more delicious by the hour. We did find a 12-pack of mini cans of Sprite under Kaia’s seat. She was perturbed by the interruption. Standing up in her bed, she stretched, did a couple circles and laid down with her head by the fan as if to say, “Carry on Lewis. Nice job Clark.”

So 25 miles of spine jarring purgatory behind us. Unknown miles of uncertainty ahead of us. Surely we’ve seen the worst of it right? Oh contraire mon frere! We experienced sharp and sustained changes in altitude with lots of rocks, potholes and washboard. The road usually maintained its width but we were in territory more suited to a jacked up Jeep. Our 1-ton diesel long bed is a beast but it’s a tool for a different job, much preferring tarmac and towing over this torture. Let’s just say that 80 pounds of tire pressure and no payload in the back made things a tish jouncy.

At one point I got out to shake the tension from my shoulders, and discovered that my right gluteus maximus was cramping from holding my foot up over the brake pedal. The true purpose of the stop was to check that the running boards were still attached as a curious clanking noise had developed from somewhere in the lower front third of the truck. I decided to wait until we got back to civilization or at least level ground before crawling under to investigate further.

With the gas tank probably in the safe range at half full we continued our trek through some gorgeous scenery and switched into four-wheel drive to navigate perfectly dry gravel “roads.” We passed slightly more frequent signs of human outpost occupation and eventually a sign that included the word “Lodge.” The map now stated forest service road instead of development road which we took as a good sign leading us to tar.

And then our dry gravel road turned greasy.  Apparently, a significant rain cloud had already traveled down the road ahead of us. Oh goody. Once again I slowed to a crawl hoping to keep the truck between the towering pines on either side of us. We came upon a few more vehicles traveling significantly faster and decided to take lessons on “lines” and watch for any wiggle or slipping. My Minnesota driving education is quite familiar with slippery situations and I wasn’t going to take any chances this close to civilization.

As if the heavens opened up with the last slivers of daylight and the angels shown to light our way, the soaked road gave way to beautiful, smooth, black tar. Six and a half hours of slowly bumping along made the stretch of road feel Iike gliding across feathers. We cheered and high-fived each other.  Kaia, less impressed, raised her head as to ask if we were home yet. She promptly curled back up and went to sleep. We opted to head straight back to the camper as fast-food options proved non-existent at that late hour. About 90 minutes later, we were back at our cozy corner of civilization, sitting on our loveseat talking about what we were going to do the next day. It was unanimously decided that another scenic drive would not be in the cards. You can bet that our next driving tour will include more time studying the map before heading out as well as plenty of provisions for any impending apocalypse. For now, we choose to remember the beautiful scenery we were blessed to see and not so much the pain in the process of seeing it.