The American Spectator : Sawtooth Days

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Sawtooth Days

By Bill Croke on 9.17.09 @ 6:08AM

Three days with Happy Jack in God's great outdoor gym.

Happy Jack Feder's (HJF) antediluvian Toyota Corolla rolled into Salmon unannounced on a recent Friday evening, its trunk and backseat crammed with camping equipment. He likes to surprise people, even as his wife Kathy often poses the pertinent question: "Do you think that's a good idea, honey?"

Upon his arrival, HJF boldly stated that he wanted to climb Borah Peak (named for the legendary Senator William Borah, a hundred miles distant, and at 12,662 feet the highest mountain in Idaho) first thing the next morning. I said this was a bad idea because mountains that high are not to be trifled with without conscientious physical preparation. ("At nine to ten thousand you're sucking wind, even if you're in good shape," I said.) We went back and forth over this, and finally decided on a three-day backpack trip in the Sawtooth Wilderness near Stanley starting on Sunday. Curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor of my home office, HJF slept until noon on Saturday, and only got up at my insistence. Borah Peak, my eye.

A cloudy Sunday morning found us heading south, up the canyon from Challis, and through Clayton and Sunbeam. Occasional dollops of rain hit the windshield as we climbed among pine-carpeted ridges with the Salmon River boiling below. We rounded a bend after Sunbeam and the jagged Sawtooths came into view, and around another was Stanley's (population an even 100, according to the 2000 Census) Main St. bisecting the Sawtooth Valley in front of those granite spires with their grayish late summer glaciers awaiting a new primer of fresh autumn snow.

We stopped at the Chamber of Commerce and got a couple of free maps from its lone Sunday guardian, a steely white-haired old lady who wouldn't tell me her name even after I'd introduced myself. We asked a few questions about the area and mostly got: "Well, I don't camp and hike myself, but…" From there we checked out the two nearby tourist camping traps of Stanley Lake and Redfish Lake, both crowded with Boise RV weekenders. We had no intention of staying, but had some nice photo ops. Then it was on to visit a writer friend of mine named John Rember, who lives in Stanley with his wife Julie, also a writer. I introduced HJF and we sat around sipping tea with the gracious Rembers for an hour in the living room of their comfortable cabin. John was quite taken with HJF's tales of adventures in self-publishing, and at one point even produced a legal pad to take notes. HJF has that effect on people. You meet him one minute, and the next you're interviewing him. We pulled out a map and John gave us some more backcountry information, as he used to work for the U.S. Forest Service in the same area where we planned to backpack. And we bid the Rembers adieu.

It was three o'clock by the time we got to the Iron Creek Trailhead. The weather remained cloudy without rain. We spread a tarp on the ground of the dusty parking lot and covered it with the contents of the Toyota's trunk and backseat. The tent, two large empty backpacks, two sleeping bags and rolled-up ground cushions, packages of freeze-dried food and oatmeal, bags of dried fruit and nuts, a small gas cookstove that looked like a lantern with a burner on top, various small cooking utensils, water bottles and a water purification filter pump, and various clothes for wet weather or cold nights. It was now the hour of reckoning.

Preparing the backpacks for three days in the mountains is something HJF takes seriously? How shall I put it? The answer is usually "No."

"One extra pair of socks," said HJF. "Not two."

"Extra socks are a no brainer," I said. "Wet feet, blisters. It's smart to have extra socks. I'm taking them."

"What's in that little jar?"

"Instant coffee," I said.

"You can't take the jar."

"It's plastic."

"It's still too heavy," said HJF. "How much do you need? Put it in a plastic bag."

"Three teaspoons a day," I said. "For Monday and Tuesday."

HJF handed me a red plastic utensil. A fork on one end; a spoon on the other. "Six teaspoons," he said, as he slipped a paperback into a pouch on the side of his own backpack.

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About the Author

Bill Croke, formerly of Cody, Wyoming, is a writer in Salmon, Idaho.

Letter to the Editor View all comments (20) | Leave a comment

Kitty| 9.17.09 @ 8:55AM

Another adventure at Camp Happy Jack. Loved your account of supplies for your trip.

My son-in-law is quite the outdoorsman, so I was shocked when I discovered he never went out without Wolfgang Puck's self-heating lattes. He was devastated when the lattes were pulled from the market because several exploded. Back to instant.

Glad you made it back with tales to tell.

owyheewine| 9.17.09 @ 9:45AM

Wish you would make your tales of the Idaho backcountry more generic, maybe pretending it's in California or maybe Maine. We don't need any more bicoastals wandering around the state.

Faffnir| 9.17.09 @ 10:23AM

Alas, I am not much of an outdoorsman: if I want to rough it I go to the Ramada instead of the Ritz, and for stone primitive it's the Red Roof. But I do enjoy a good postcard from the wilderness. Very well done, sir!

Tim| 9.17.09 @ 10:46AM

"Mountain money"- that's new to me at least, heh.

Happy Jack Feder| 9.17.09 @ 12:13PM

Bill, you neglected to mention what you shouted upon diving into the nippy Alpine Lake. I assume it was nippy, at least, judging by your decibel level. My ears are still ringing. HJF

Everly Waverly| 9.17.09 @ 2:03PM

I was eagerly awaiting an appearance by Rancid Crabtree. A trip to a mountain lake and no fishing rods...

Lee Kleypas| 9.17.09 @ 5:24PM

Hi Bill, I went to jr and High schools in Idaho Falls so the Tetons were our mountains of choice. But about 6 years ago my son moved to Boise so I got acquainted with the Sawtooths. Very spectacular and somehow more accessible (smaller scale maybe--or just fewer tourists) than the Tetons. Highway 21 from Boise to Stanley is about the windyest, most fun road ever. Get yourself a Porsche and have at it. I get up that way quite a bit and we both know Idaho is just the most scenic and laid bak and coolest place in the world. Enjoy your post about the area immenslly. By the way; Google Earth has got some great photos of your camping trip area. So cool.

Lee, Houston (the flatest place on earth)

Blair| 9.17.09 @ 5:35PM

A great story of everyday amenities available to all in Idaho. You painted a vivid word picture of outdoor Idaho days past and, hopefully, future, for many of us. Yes, I also can testify that the road from Boise to Stanley in a Porsche is the road to Heaven! Thanks for an enjoyable diversion from crazy current events.

Blair in Boise.

linder| 9.17.09 @ 7:54PM

Loved reading about one of my favorite places on earth. I grew up in Boise, having a father that needed to get away from the city as much as possible, so we spent most every weekend camping and fishing throughout the great state of Idaho.

I must admit, when asked about Idaho from people who have never been, my first reaction is say that it is a barren desert, just to preserve, for a little while, the Idaho I grew up with and loved.

Richard Ranger| 9.18.09 @ 9:20AM

Bill --

As a former Westerner now exiled inside the rampart of the Beltway, I always enjoy your writing. HJF reminds me of a former neighbor in Alaska, the halls of whose home were hung with gear for different outdoor missions, and who would drill holes in items like toothbrushes (or handles of virtually anything destined for the trail) to save weight.

Thank you again,
Richard

JJ| 9.18.09 @ 3:11PM

"Exiled inside" the beltway -- brilliant.

Francesco Sinibaldi| 9.18.09 @ 4:32PM

New words in a new fantasy.

The green picture
of a tenderness
overtakes your
melody, actually,
like an infinite
meadow that
presents in a
singing the
sweet and sincere
relief.

Francesco Sinibaldi

johan| 9.19.09 @ 3:44PM

As a native Norwegian I could recognize much of the outdoors that you describe in your piece.
Sane advice on how to preserve warmth in cold country reminded me of a stern uncle who taught me as much.. A wonderful tale of this last unspoilt America! Thank You!

marylou| 9.19.09 @ 9:17PM

Scrumptious!! I had either forgotten, or taken for granted at the time, the wonders of northern Idaho, in which I was privileged to live for a time and rough it at times, too. There is nothing like it. Thank you.

Macks Inn Grandma| 9.20.09 @ 9:12AM

Bill, glad you are back, missed your stories. I too like owyheewine, would like to keep our state a little more laid back.

Richard Baker| 9.20.09 @ 1:03PM

Reading about the minimal gear taken due to weight reminds me of my Infantry days when what was a nice thing to have, when added to all the other nice things, could become a burden when fatigued. You wouldn't believe how heavy water can become when you have to carry it. Minimalism IS the only way when you have to hump the ruck.

the best supra| 9.21.09 @ 1:20PM

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