Owyhees, Part Two

In response to popular demand, the subject of this blog will again be the Owyhee mountains.

Fern and I had ourselves an outing Saturday. We needed an Owyhee fix, so that afternoon, after a breakfast of eggs, hashbrowns, toast, flapjacks, and coffee, we packed up some goodies in a cooler and headed for the land beyond. A land just beyond the armpit of Idaho, NampaCaldwell. NampaCaldwell is a dirthole. A depressing shitpile of car lots, mexican restaurants catering to fat white people, department stores, trailer parks, mysterious manufacturing complexes and wharehouses, and nondescript strip malls. Fern and I entered the belly of the beast, "Big K," in search of a restroom. In the process of making our way to the back of the store, where the restrooms were conveniently situated, we passed aisle after aisle of junk food. I felt the walls begin to close in. After peeing, we stumbled back into blinding sunlight, holding our breath until we made it to the car for fear of inhaling sugar beet factory fumes. It wasn't until we made that sweeping left hander down into the Snake River valley, in sight of Marsing, that we were able to breath easy. In Marsing, Jennifer realized that she was hungry. We passed a trailor/restaurant called "Freddy's Tacos". Freddy was there to take our order and serve our tacos. The tacos, Freddy, and the whole experience were of heightened quality. This sometimese shy guy (me) can really enjoy talking to complete strangers when the mood hits him, so I was especially glad to chat with Fredrico for a titch. Another pleasant detail of the dining experience was the fact that the weather was not only perfect, but beautiful to see. There was a tropical look to the sky, with small popcorn clouds and larger clouds aspiring to be true storms later in the day. Jennifer and I left Marsing completely satisfied with our dining experience, just as we had done a few months prior. We traveled south on a bumpy highway that took us up into the Owyhees. A few miles skyward, we stopped and checked out the view near a historical marker. This is where we were made aware of that titilating fact regarding the Owyhee name. According to the historical marker, if you say Owyhee out loud, it sounds just like Hawaii. And, of course, historical markers are never wrong. Back in the car heading south, I kept my eyes pealed for exciting landscape and promising roads that would lead us into that landscape. Recognizing that there are no sure bets when it comes to exploration, I directed Fern to turn off onto an unassuming dirt road which appeared to parrallel a creek. Our amazing Owyhee adventure began as soon as we turned onto that road. A badger (yes, a badger!), crossed our path and trotted along side the road for much longer than one would expect a badger to trot when two humanoids gawked at it from large metallic mobile. I felt as if I were directing a film for National Geographic. What a great shot! We continued down the road for about a mile and parked. This is when Fern directed my attention to the hundreds of exoskelotons at our feet. We began hiking, hearing the sound and smelling the smell of recently deceased Mormon crickets. We blazed a trail through the sage brush and scratchy weeds towards the creek. We discovered a cow path and followed it. Fern found a stunning mini-canyon in which to pee. Continuing along the cow path, we were led away from the creek and up a small draw. Cresting the draw we came upon the first of many bovine animals which we would spy either grazing amongst the sage or licking large squares of salt. This is when we had our discussion about bovine safety, or rather, our safety in the presence of potentially grumpy cows. Fern, in all her wisdom, came up with a plan. She recommended that if an angry bull charges us, we run very fast and scream at the top of our lungs. I believe this is her blanket strategy for dealing with any and all four legged hairy mammal that look at her sideways. Hiking onward, we soon found ourselves cowboys, driving a herd along the creek. This was not intended, so we used our awesome cowboy skills to select a course which succeeded in staying the herd. Next, we shifted into our granny gears and began climbing and climbing up a road which made me want a Jeep or LandRover. The combination of extreme physical exertion, high temperatures, intense sunlight, and thin air must have caused us to hallucinate, because as we crested the top of the hill, we saw the Great White Spirit Cow. It was a statuesque cow that seemed content residing far from the herd. I'm sure now that it was pretty damn proud of its white hide. It gazed knowingly at the two hominids approaching it. Then it dissapeared. In only a few minutes, it reappeared. I felt truly blessed. Most people never see the Spirit Cow once in their lifetimes, yet I was allowed to gaze upon its majesty not once, not twice, but, like, four times! Anyway, I think that fucking cow may have placed a curse on my head, because I began feeling some strange rumblings in my tummy. I asked Jennifer if she had brought any toilet paper. She said no and proceeded to express feelings of guilt when the reality of my situation was made known to her. Of course, it was not her fault that I did not have toilet paper. I believe that if someone is that concerned about unfortunate out-of-doors bowel movements, then that person assumes full responsibility for bringing along the necessary items. Clearly, I wasn't that concerned. I know that if worse comes to worse, there are things like socks and underwear that really aren't so valuable that I'd end up spending the rest of the day completely soiled. So, after withstanding a bit of pain, I made it to a rocky outcropping and took care of business. Ironically, earlier that day I was expressing to Fern my new fondness for sleeping naked and going around not wearing undies. After taking care of business, I was lucky enough to experience the latter, however unplanned. When I rejoined Fern after that unfortunate experience, I learned that I missed what would have been the coolest moment of the trip. She said that she saw what looked like a wolf. Given that I had other things to focus my attention on at the time of the wolf sighting, I've got little to say about the occurrence. We then hiked wobbly-legged down some ridgy hills, back towards the car. Before we made it back, we were struck by ice-cold rain drops. A mini-storm had formed directly over our heads and had just enough gusto to let go a frosty bout of rain. While there's no question we got wet, I'm sure that there was a spot or two on my shirt that stayed dry. Such are the high desert rainshowers. Before leaving, the Fern and I made ourselves "Lunchable" sandwhiches that rivaled the best I've tasted for flavor. End.