AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

I love all the posts you do. It makes me pull out maps and follow along and realize the turn-offs I have looked at on my previous trips go to places that you post photos of.

Back in August 2017 I was up on Sunshine Mtn Lookout just south of that turnoff you found to escape Hwy 21 and get back on forest routes above Banner.

 

IDBDR Pt. 5 - (No More) Gold in Them There Hills
July 21, 2019.

Camped deep in the valley next to the South Fork of the Salmon River, getting up for sunrise wasn't even an option for us. The dual-sport bikers had we'd met the night before were surely later to bed and earlier to rise than we were, but that was just fine by us - we needed our beauty rest, bad.

So it was that when the sun finally did start warming the tent that we figured we might as well continue on our route - I mean, it was either that or go back the way we'd come - we were after all, a long way from home.

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As was becoming routine, we breakfasted and broke down camp before setting off across the river - this time, with the assistance of a bridge, the water levels too high, even for a Tacoma.

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Almost immediately - yep, you guessed it - we started to climb. Up and out of the canyon, two male deer watching as we negotiated the switchbacks - something we'd been warned was extremely dangerous by one of the riders.

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Turns out, it was the same way that the water crossing the day before was dangerous - which is to say, compared to eating tacos.

This morning, the easy road was just fine with us - we still had a good 150+ miles to go, and not a lot of fuel, so any roads that were well-graded and easy to travel were a plus. We made our way along the ridge and were just west of China Mountain when we started noticed the beginnings of civilization - we'd reached the outskirts of Warren, Idaho.

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Totally within the Taco's towing capacity.​

An old mining town, Warren's (named for James Warren who discovered gold in the area) current full-time population of 12 residents pales in comparison to the 2,000+ residents who called it home in the gold rush of 1862. Then in the Washington Territory, it is one of the oldest settlements in present-day Idaho. At the time of it's founding, the impending Civil War resulted in northerners calling the town "Washington" and southerners, "Richmond." Eventually, it was known for its Chinese population, before being dredged in the 1930's - miles and miles of dredge tailings still prominent in the valley to this day.

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Many of the buildings still intact - and a "walking tour" of Main Street available at the now-a-museum guard station to supplement what we'd read in Roadside History of Idaho - we set out to explore, a bit perplexed by some of the sights we saw initially, the town seemingly abuzz with people.

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Having passed the old Warren School, with its backwards 'N', and the holds-up-the-radio-antenna Hotel, we found ourselves at the Dance Hall and old Saloon. It was here that we finally realized why the town seemed so alive - there'd been a wedding the day before, many of the old buildings still used for the momentous occasion. Now nearly 10:00am, everyone was just waking up, to clean up after the festivities.

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On our way out of town, we passed one last relic - an old excavator - surely an engineering marvel in its time, now rendered obsolete by much more capable machines.

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Unlike our trip so far - where traffic had been light - leaving Warren was a traffic jam, wedding attendees in their full-size trucks and 40' RV trailers making their way slowly out of the mountains. Luckily for us, they were reasonably attentive to their mirrors and we were able to quickly zoom by and out of their dusty wake.

Speeding along on what was effectively a gravel superhighway, it was less than 15 miles before we reached a site that was high on @mrs.turbodb's list of stops we had to make - Burgdorf Hot Springs. Not because it was historically interesting, but because it would allow us a dip in the warm goodness.

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It turns out that the Burgdorf story is perhaps the most pragmatic of the area. According to Southern Idaho Ghost Towns, it was known as simply "Warm Springs" to the earliest travelers - but in 1870, Fritz Burgdorf saw the advantages of the natural springs and secured a deed to the land, on which he built a hotel and way station.

Smart dude if you ask me - making money no matter how much gold was pulled out of the nearby hills! To this day, the resort continues to serve as a social gathering place, several of its rustic cabins available for rent.

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In the end, it turned out that we didn't go for a dip in the spring - the idea of paying to get in hot sulfur-water under the 85°F sun, with no ability to shower afterward a little too much even for us. Instead, we climbed back into the Tacoma, turned on the air conditioning, and looked forward to whatever lay ahead. We'd have plenty of time for hot springs in the future.

Over the course of the next couple hours, I wouldn't say that the views from the trail were the most fabtacular of the trip, but that didn't mean that highlights didn't present themselves. In fact, there were at least four worth calling out.

First up was the Edmundson Cabin. Not mentioned by the BDR route planners or any of our books, it was a complete surprise when we came upon it...not that we were complaining in the least! Turns out that this was a place that heavy freight wagons hauling supplies and equipment - brought in on the Salmon and destined for the gold mines near Warren - would stop to rest for the night.

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Next was an old school bus. Long ago retired from the child-hauling business, it had been converted into a residence - some wooden shingles, a wood heat stove, and remnants of an electrical panel still evident. Now however, it's just another weird thing to stumble upon out in the middle of nowhere and take a picture of, perhaps with a butterfly on one of its steps!

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Shortly after the bus, we came upon the third interesting section of trail. This was a section we'd been looking forward to since we discovered it in Backcountry Navigator earlier in the day.

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I mean, how could that not be a fun section? I could only hope that the switchbacks were as tight in person as they looked on the map. Of course, they weren't, but they still provided us plenty of downhill - appreciated given our fuel situation - as well as the opportunity to witness a man walking his pack animals down the mountain, straight out of the late 1800's.

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And with that, we reached the Salmon River. Not the North-Fork-of-the-West-Edge-of-the-Primary-Feeder-of-the-Source-of-the-Salmon-River, the real deal.

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Finally, just a few miles downstream, we hit the fourth cool landmark worth mentioning - the Manning Bridge. A "half" suspension bridge, it was put into service in June 2018, replacing an earlier model that was built in 1934. Just as interesting as the bridge itself - at least in my opinion - is a rock on the north side of the river, which was ground down with some circular grinder - its face polished and gray, a stark contrast to the natural rock around it.

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It was here, as the road changed from gravel to pavement as it followed the path of the Salmon River through the canyon - that we decided we ought to stop for lunch. I mean, we could have kept going - it was just noon, and so still rather early - but we knew that our future likely held dusty roads and less shade than we'd find along this majestic water way. So, it was lunch time.

As sandwiches were made, I set about transferring fuel from the Jerry Cans into the gas tank. We'd traveled 102 of our 205 miles - and with a quarter tank left, we were doing great. We'd definitely need both cans, but we'd only use a gallon or two out of the second can, assuming we didn't run into any unforeseen rock crawling sections.

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Soon enough, I was done, lunch was prepared, and we sat in the shade on the bank of the river, enjoying our sandwiches, chips, and the last of our fresh u-pick cherries. The only thing that could have made it any better was some reminder of the majesty of this place.

Right on cue, a bald eagle soared in and landed in a tree just across the river. #MajestyCheckmate

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We waited a long time after finishing our food for the bald eagle to spot some delicious morsel and fly away, hoping to catch a photo of it in flight - but alas, it was content to sit and preen much longer than our patience. So we packed everything back up, marveled at a fuel gauge that now read nearly ¾ of a tank, and did what we seemed to do everywhere - we started climbing up and out of the canyon and over the next ridge!

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We naturally got some great views as we gained elevation, Hershey Point and Sam's Throne visible in the distance. But we also entered a different type of forest than we'd found ourselves in to this point - one that was being actively logged. As we climbed higher, and made our way northeast towards the ghost town of Florence, we alternated between thick woods and bare hillside, the mangled rootballs and charred remains of burn piles all around.

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As much as I'm for management of our forests in order to prevent fires such as the 1989 Lowman Fire, I'm not sure this is quite the right approach either. Rather, I'm a fan of something something in-between.

Around 2:00pm, we arrived in Florence - something we (and by 'we' I mean especially @mrs.turbodb) had been looking forward to since we set out on this excursion. Little did we know - though perhaps it should have been obvious - that we weren't actually in Florence proper; we were in New Florence.

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Florence it turns out, is completely gone - the town totally abandoned in 1951, some 90 years after it was established in the winter of 1861 as a mining camp, soon becoming the Idaho County seat - a distinction it held despite a dwindling population - until the seat moved to Warren in 1869.

Today, only a few run-down buildings remain even in New Florence. It's obvious though that someone is working to preserve what's left - a few roads and signs having appeared to educate explorers about the little that's still standing.

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A two-holer. Apparently even pioneer women always went together?​

A bit further up the road - between New- and Old Florence - was the Cemetery. This place had clearly been worked on by the Forest Service - all of the original headstones having been replaced with wooden slabs. Still, it was a little creepy - with "unknown" carved in over half of the headstones, and a marker denoting several Chinese graves that had been "exhumed."

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Ready to move on, and with Florence having represented our last ridge climb of the day, we made our way north towards Highway 14 and the South Fork of the Clearwater River. It was pavement, but it was pavement that we knew would lead us to fuel and a grocery store - two places we hoped to reach before they closed for the day.

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<p class="full-width-container">Given all the cow pies on the right side, this is quite obviously the most useless cattle grate in existence.</p>

Of course, by the time we crossed the Clearwater and slowly - given that we were aired down - made our way to Elk city, it was 6:00pm on a Sunday. Both the gas station and grocery store were closed, though they were set to open by 8:00am the next morning.

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And that meant it was time to find camp. I knew from a trip on the Old Elk City Wagon Trail with Mike @Digiratus and Dan @drr the year before that we could find something along that route - but hoping to find something a bit closer, we ventured up some nearby Forest Service roads until we found one that suited our fancy.

It didn't have the spectacular views or a river flowing alongside, and the flies were out in droves - but it was out of the way, flat, and had an eastern orientation - hopefully a good sign for sunrise the next day. Oh, and there were no mosquitoes - a big plus in our book.

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Dinner was tasty as usual - cheeseburgers with our last avocado, and potato chips in place of fries; not much to complain about after nearly a week on the road.

And then, the flies out in force, we decided to get some relief by hanging out in the tent - the idea being that we'd read until sunset, but reality being that we'd be asleep well before the sun hit the horizon.

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Either way, we planned on an early morning the next day - it'd taken us three days to do the last two stages, and we hoped to do a stage-plus-some by the time we found our next camp.

It was an ambitious plan given that the next stage included the entirely of the Macgruder Corridor, and the Lolo Motorway was the stage after that...

 

@turbodb is there a post I missed on what you are using for GPS? This is a piece of the puzzle I am trying to navigate, ahem, right now. Mounting a big screen I can figure out, it is the hardware (screen, GPS antenna maybe) that I am trying to solve. Cheers!

 

Thanks very much, glad you're enjoying! I sort of felt like the last day/post was a bit boring (comparatively)... but tomorrow's is more fun .

I use an android tablet for GPS - or rather, offline maps + GPS. As a tablet, it doesn't need any antenna or anything.

I cover my original setup in the second post of my Route Planning series, though I should note that I've since switched to using the Lenovo Tab 4 8" instead of the Samsung Galaxy Tab A 8.0, because I really didn't like the screen on the (cheap) Tab A devices. The Lenovo is light years better from a build quality perspective, and I'd totally recommend it or the Samsung Galaxy Tab S2 (which is even better, but $$$).

Anyway, that whole series is worth reading to get a sense of how I use the tablet, and I'm happy to answer questions as always.

Finally, I should note that I originally tried to use the Android head unit I installed for nav, but it's just too low in the dash to be useful. So it is relegated to music now. (And the occasional movie for @mini.turbodb.)

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There are some quite affordable used ones on Amazon: ~$115:

Samsung SM-T813NZKEXAR Galaxy Tab S2 9.7", 32GB, Black

https://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-lis...d=true&f_usedLikeNew=true&f_usedVeryGood=true

 

Geeeeez man, that is incredible! Thank you so much, you answered every question and a few I didn't know I had!

 

IDBDR Pt. 6 - Macgruder Corridor and Hell's Half-Acre
July 22, 2019.

Wanting to get an early start to the day so we could try to get ourselves through all of the Idaho Backcountry Discovery Route's Stage 4 from Elk City to Darby along the Macgruder Corridor, we were both up and out of the tent right around 7:00am - the plan to show up at the awesome right as they opened at 8:00am.

Or so we thought. But now I'm getting ahead of myself. So let's back up for just a minute...

As usual, I set my alarm for o-dark-thirty to see if I could catch the orange glow before sunrise. I think it was technically 4:00am that I figured was the right time, since my phone was still on Pacific Time, and I figured 5:00am Mountain Time would be about 30 minutes before the sun crested the horizon.

I was a bit worried that the trees to our east would block the view, but it they turned out to be a great foreground for the orangey-purpley-bluey show - the best we'd had on the trip so far.

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Of course, after a few minutes I decided that - as usual - bed was a cozier place to be and I crawled back in for another couple hours - content with the knowledge that it was going to be another beautiful day. But nature's a cruel beast, and when I awoke from my pre-breakfast nap and looked to the west, I knew we needed to get a move on - because even though there was still sun streaming in under them from the horizon, those were some dark clouds!

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We were dressed, the tent was stowed, and breakfast was made in just under 15 minutes - if not a record, dang close for us doddlers. And just in time too - because as we ate breakfast, the first few rain drops started to fall. These weren't just any drops, they were enormous drops.

Not that it really matters one way or the other - they were just water, and only lasted about 5 minutes. But hey, it got us up and moving, and that was a good thing.

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We headed back into Elk City where our first stop was at the Station Cafe to refill both the tank and Jerry Cans from the last few days and couple of sections of the IDBDR. The place - as usual - was buzzing with customers in for breakfast, its menu something of a legend around these parts.

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Then, we hopped up the street to the General Store where we needed to pick up just two things for the rest of the trip - some tortillas, for breakfast burritos and some sandwich bread, for making sandwiches. As we pulled up, things looked a little off - we could see people walking around inside, but the OPEN sign was off, and the lights looked dim. A quick glance at my phone and yep - sure enough - it was 7:30am Pacific Time, so 8:30am Mountain - we should be just fine; they probably just forgot to turn on the sign.

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I pushed open the door and said good morning - a greeting that was enthusiastically returned by all three employee's. It was then followed by a, "Can we help you - we're not open yet." Obvious that they'd caught me off-guard, they immediately knew what the issue was. Turns out, this far north, Idaho is in Pacific Time - even though directly south, it's in Mountain time.

So yeah, the time zone isn't split vertically. Weird.

But, in a show of awesome, they were happy to have us come in and pick up a couple things early so we could get on our way - and five minutes later we were headed out of town - out along Red River Road to our first stop - one that I'd clearly passed the last time I was out this way, but don't remember at all. Gold Point Mine.

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Still in good shape, the mine is across the river from the road, so it doesn't get many visitors to hasten its demise. In service for only a short time - due to a lack of gold ore to process - the mess hall and mill were left intact, and are a great reflection of the 1930s boom in lode mining in Idaho County.

Unable to make our way across the Red River without getting wet, we decided that a closer investigation would have to take place on a later trip. We continued on to the start of the Macgruder Corridor, marked only by an 11"x17" printout stapled to a wooden board. Classy.

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The Macgruder - by and large - is a narrow corridor situated between the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness and the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. 115 miles long, much of the route has been burned over the years - as a result and indication of it's remoteness. That of course makes for a two-edged sword, the lack of foliage offering plenty of views; the views perhaps somewhat stark.

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Cruising along and making good time, it wasn't long before we happened on a sign advertising Green Mountain lookout. Unsure if it'd be open given our last several (failed) attempts at lookouts, we ultimately looked at each other and decided it was worth a shot - after all, we were here and who knows when we'd ever get a chance to return.

And let me tell you - we were glad we did. Green Mountain lookout is a great, old, wooden lookout. It was unstaffed, but the gate was open - as was the lookout itself... though, in the case of the lookout, it was unlikely that it had been left open purposely.

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The views - as you can imagine, and perhaps by definition at a fire lookout - were vast and magnificently dramatic under the cloudy skies.

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Lookouts - little did we know at this moment - would be the highlight of the day, helping to break up the long trail, and providing surprises that we'd never imagine. And so it was that as we kept up a reasonably good clip back to the Macgruder from this first lookout, that we ran into the dual sport riders we'd encountered in camp just a couple days before.

"Hey, we know you guys!" one of them said, a smile apparent under his helmet. "You're making great time in that truck. We thought we'd be way ahead of you!"

Smiling, we shared a joyous greeting as well, politely refrained from mentioning that this trail was perhaps the definition of perfect terrain for our Tacoma, and recommended that they absolutely make the side trip up to Green Mountain. With that, smiles, and safe trips, we parted ways once again; not for the last time.

For an hour, we racked up the miles. As we did, I pointed out various - meaningless to most - landmarks to @mrs.turbodb. Here's a place where we stopped to take photos last time; oh, we stopped at that restroom since Mike had a couple cups of coffee that morning - that kind of thing. Probably boring, now that I look back on it, but she was nice enough to humor me with her attention.

And then, we came to a side trip that we were absolutely going to do - the road up to Burnt Knob lookout. Burnt Knob is perhaps the most appropriately named lookout we'd encounter all trip, standing atop a knob of granite, views as far as the eye can see.

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And the road is fun too! Where most of the Macgruder rocky or "rough," in decent weather, none of it really requires a 4WD vehicle. The road up to Burnt Knob is different - here you need 4WD and high clearance if you want to make it to the top unscathed.

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That said, even if you find yourself unable coax your vehicle to the top, this is a place I recommend finding some way to achieve the summit. Walk if you have to. Because it's worth it.

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And once you're there - do as we did, and enjoy it. Even if - as it did for one of us - that means getting out of the truck while some numskull drives it to the edge of the cliff. Because this is a place to really soak up.

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Having spent at least our personal allotment of time on Burnt Knob, we headed back down and along on our way. It was getting on lunch time, so there were only a few stops here and there as we looked for the perfect spot to enjoy PB&amp;J.

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A nicely built Land Cruiser, three generations out enjoying the wild together.​

Eventually we did find the perfect spot - aptly named Observation Point - where we pulled over not only to fill our tummies, but also to say hi - once again - to our dual sport friends, who must have passed us while we were exploring Burnt Knob!

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Finding a bit of shade (necessary even on this mostly cloudy day), lunch was a reasonably quick affair today - Observation Point marking the halfway point of the Macgruder; our plan to make it an additional ~70 mostly-pavement miles beyond that before stopping for the night. Luckily - at least on the Macgruder proper - there only quick photo stops for us to make until we got to the old Macgruder Ranger Station, a couple miles off the main road.

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And it was here that we ran into the motorcyclists one last time. Residents of nearby Hamilton, they were almost home - a 5-day ride less than two hours from completion, showers already on their minds. We chatted for a good 20 minutes - about bikes, about trucks, and of course - about adventure. Eventually, we let them go (or they let us go) - the end of one of the longest games of leapfrog that any of us had played. And enjoyable game to be sure!

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A bit more exploration of the ranger station, and we were ready to get on the move as well - our assumption, that we'd be airing up shortly for the drive into Darby and then on to Lolo.

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But you know what they say about assumptions. (So I won't repeat it here. )

East of the Macgruder Ranger Station, the road can only be described as amazingly good. Where we averaged ~25 mph on the western 75%, here we were tooling along - dust trailing behind us in the stagnant air - at twice that speed.

Which may be - but don't quote me on this - why we missed our turn.

This however was an important turn. We had no idea at the time exactly how important it was, but lest I get ahead of myself, it was the turn to Hell's Half Acre and it's fire lookout. So, we got ourselves turned around and made our way 11 miles off-route until we finally found ourselves atop of Hell's Half Acre Mountain - the gate open, much to our relief!

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The lookout obviously occupied, we grabbed some chocolate - a little gift we like to offer to these fine folks who find themselves without such creature comforts over the long summer months - and headed up to the lookout itself.

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It's good practice when you approach a lookout to call up before heading up. That, in my mind gives the occupant - some of whom prefer solitude, or may be working a fire - the opportunity to keep you on the ground and out of their hair. In this case though - Austin was happy to have us up so we could take in views that were even better than what we'd seen just 10 feet below.

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The youngest fire lookout we've ever met, we had plenty of questions for Austin and he had plenty for us. His third year at Hell's Half Acre, he put into words something that I've thought many times but never acted on - "It's the best job in the world. You get paid to look at mountains all day, and on your days off - you get to go fishing!" Touche!

Well, a bit more back and forth - he learning a bit about our trip and where we'd come from - and we got onto the topic of where he was from. "Well, it's a small town in Northern California that you've probably never heard of..." he started. And then, as I thought it in my mind, he mentioned a little place that I've spent many a summer - two of my family members living in exactly that small town.

Talk about a small world!

At any rate, it turns out that he not only knew my relatives, but hung out with some of the same crowd. And, as I'd find out later - but could have easily told you at the time - he and his family had a pretty good reputation around the town. Probably a lot better than the @turbodb's!

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It was, I think - one of the top 2 highlights of the trip for me. It was a good 45 minutes or so that we spent in his lookout - sharing surprise and memories, and talking of adventure.

Oh, and let's not forget his cat. This must be the perfect place for such an animal. Endless windows and sunny areas in which to nap. #SpoiledCatLife

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We finally pulled ourselves away - our Macgruder adventure now in the rear view mirror (well, side view - the rear view only has a view of the CVT, hahahaha). In Darby, Montana, we aired up since the rest of the day's miles - with the exception of a few as we found camp - would be paved - and headed to Lolo where found a bite to eat at some fast food joint.

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Nearing 8:00pm now (we were back in Mountain time), we also decided that having gotten hot and sweaty for the last several days, an hour-long stop at Lolo Hot Springs wouldn't be the end of the world. After all, a good soak would be followed by a warm shower, and who ever complains about such a thing?

I mean, besides kids.

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Refreshed - especially in their "cool" pool - I conveniently left the only hat I'd brought at the springs. As the sun set, we headed west over Lolo Pass. Our goal this evening was to find ourselves that perfect camp site somewhere along the eastern edge of the Lolo Motorway - a great jumping off point to finally tackle a road I'd been unable to run just 11 months before.

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By the time we reached The Lolo, the sun had set. A look at the map, and @mrs.turbodb found what she thought could be a nice place to make camp - if we could get there without running into a locked gate: Rocky Point fire lookout.

So, we headed up. And - as was a theme for the trip - up and up and up. Finally arriving at the lookout - no gates in our way - there was a car. It seemed the lookout was staffed, but I figured that as long as we were quiet and unobtrusive, it'd probably be just fine for us to camp some 50' below, and out of the way.

And then, from the deck around the lookout - a red light and a woman's voice, greeting us - and ultimately letting us know that of course we could camp here, just as long as others could get by on the road. Sweet!

As we set up the tent, lightning in the distance. This, of course, was why the lookout was out on her deck, binoculars in hand - it was her job, and she was doing it well. With the tent up, we pulled our our chairs and faced them east - a light display better than any fireworks, the perfect cap to what had been a wonderful day.

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Looking forward to The Lolo the next day, we had absolutely no idea what surprises were in store. And boy, were there surprises - highlights for sure, but of a completely different ilk.

 

That Idaho timezone thing is totally obnoxious. It has tripped me up on more than one occasion.

 

IDBDR Pt. 7 - The Curse of the Lolo Motorway
July 23, 2019.

We couldn't have chosen a better spot to setup camp when we pulled up to Rocky Point lookout. Our view east was spectacular, and the clouds and lightning storms from the night before had cleared out, leaving just enough moisture in the air for an amazing sunrise - the orange on the horizon slowly emanating out to a pink before transitioning once again to the deep blue of the clear sky.

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Unlike most mornings where a few shots of the glow™ are enough for me and I climb back into bed, this morning was something special. I grabbed my chair and went to enjoy it from the helipad, where we'd spent the evening before watching distant lightning. An already-warm breeze and my current action-thriller (In the Crosshairs) on my Kindle Paperwhite making the morning even more enjoyable.

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Eventually, splitting my attention between reading and what was going on around me was more than I could stand. The woman staffing the lookout had come down to say good morning before letting me know that she was off to pick wild huckleberries, and so I made my way back up the hill to capture the scene from a different perspective.

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Lookouts it seems are always captivating, but silhouetted by sunrise makes them - for me - irresistible. As the sun worked its way closer to the horizon, I was madly hopping around to different vantage points, trying to capture the moment - always a futile effort.

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Finally, as the sun crested the horizon, I took my final shot. Well placed logo there, @Cascadia Tents.

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Excited to finally run the Lolo Motorway, I woke @mrs.turbodb (well, not wake as much as suggest she get up so we could get going). We prepped a breakfast of instant oatmeal and fresh blueberries. We'd had the oatmeal on a previous trip and felt it was too sweet, so this time we mixed in a bit of plain oatmeal with the package of Maple and Brown Sugar.

It was a bad idea. One not even rescuable by fresh blueberries.

Deciding to skip breakfast in favor of tent deconstruction, we were soon ready to go - the Lolo Motorway at our finger tips. Pulling out of our parking spot, I asked where my hat was - and that's when we realized that we'd forgotten it at Lolo Hot Springs.

Dang!

But soon, we'd realize - leaving my hat behind wasn't such a big deal. As we started down from the lookout, we noticed a squealing. Thinking it was just something caught in the driver front brake dust shield, I assured @mrs.turbodb that we'd be fine and we continued on - rounding a corner to see the our lookout host headed back up the trail. We shared "good mornings" all around, and marveled at the berries she'd found on the hillside. We thanked her for her hospitality, and graciously thanked her again for her offer to "come back any time," even though our plans would take us hundreds of miles away by nightfall.

And with that, we were off - our plan to back-track a little bit on the Lolo to the point that Mike @Digiratus and I had entered the previous year, and then head west - along a route that many had traveled before us. Except that within a few hundred feet, it was clear that this section of the FS-500 road hadn't been driven in many years. In fact, to suggest that it was a road was giving it a lot more credit than it deserved!

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Later, we'd discover that last year's route - which I never ended up running - actually parallels the official Lolo Motorway for several miles before joining up with it in the same place we'd entered it the night before. So, we got turned around and continued on our way...to the sound of a squeaking front driver brake.

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Wanting to make sure that everything was going to be OK, it was at this point that I decided it would be good to check things out a little bit. I mean, we'd had no trouble at all leading up to this point, but I cycled the truck into forward/reverse a couple times and pumped the brakes to try and clear up any bit of debris that may have gotten lodged in there and started to squeak.

To no avail - the squeaking continued.

Then, I figured I should check the temps of the brakes - you know, just to see if there was any extra friction. And boy, was there ever. A bit of water sprayed on the passenger side rotor just spilled off onto the ground, while on the driver side - it immediately boiled upon hitting the hot metal. This was clearly not good.

I found a spot to pull over and into the shade and proceeded to jack up the front of the truck, the @Relentless Fab bumper having - unnoticed to me before this incident - strategically placed cutouts for the Hi-Lift. Another reason to love this bumper.

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It was quite clear after removing the wheel and tire that my driver side brake caliper had seized. The outer pad was significantly worn, and I was unable to compress one of the pistons into an open position at all. Houston, we have a problem.

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Knowing that we couldn't continue with things as they were, we ultimately decided to descend from the Lolo back down to Highway 12 and to the Lochsa Lodge, where we hoped to use their phone to call Napa in Missoula in order to get a new caliper. So I pried the caliper as far open as I could, reinstalled the wheel, and used only engine braking to make our way back.

Upon arriving at the lodge, they were extremely accommodating - allowing us to use both their land line phone and WiFi to coordinate the parts. I gave Napa a call, and was assured that - while they no longer carried the Eclipse brand 13WL calipers that I'd installed when I'd done the Tundra brake upgrade, they did carry 13WL calipers from a new vendor, and they had one in stock.

Knowing that it would be less-than-ideal and possibly disastrous to drive the 55 miles to Napa with my caliper seized, a quick text-exchange with Zane @Speedytech7 confirmed my plan to zip tie the caliper into the wheel well and drive back using engine braking and the e-brake was the right plan (to avoid cooking things like my wheel bearing). So - once again, this time in the Lochsa parking lot - I pulled out the Hi-Lift and got to work.

Fashioning a spacer with a piece of one of my 2x6 levelers, and with what seemed like several billion zip ties, I got the caliper secured well enough that I felt safe driving.

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Safe enough was of course relative, and it assumed that there would be no tight right hand turns of any kind - the rubbing of my tires on the ADS reservoirs nothing compared to the disastrous amount that would occur on the caliper.

With many thanks to the good folks at Lochsa - and @mrs.turbodb delighted about having purchased two additional books for our journeys (Roadside History of Idaho and Roadside History of Montana) - we aired up and set off.

Perhaps the most uneventful part of the day, our drive to Missoula was actually quite pleasant. We tooled along at highway speeds, the highway one of the more beautiful we've traveled, and the knowledge that we could recover my hat, a silver lining to the breakdown. And, for me, it was a fun challenge - a 55 mile drive with no brakes - that I am happy to say went off without a hitch, only one short use of the e-brake needed at a long red light.

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A new caliper and a few new crush washers easily obtained at Napa, we found some shade a block away and I semi-confidently set about fixing caliper, the first steps - of course - to get the truck up on the Hi-Lift for the third time in as many hours, and then spend 10 minutes cutting out all of the zip ties that had successfully served their life's purpose.

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Now, I say I started this job semi-confidently because - as I'd looked at the new caliper provided by Napa - I knew it didn't look quite right. There were two issues with it, both a result of the vendor's rebuild process. First, it looked to me that the threaded hole into which the banjo bolt would thread was too shallow for the bolt I had. Second, and perhaps more worrisome, the surface for the banjo bolt was powder coated (vs. being machined).

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Hoping for the best, it wasn't long before I had the new caliper bolted up and the brake pads moved over from the old caliper.

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And now, it was time for the moment of truth. I removed the banjo bolt securing the brake line to the old caliper and tried to stem the gush of brake fluid as best I could as I maneuvered it into position on the new caliper. As I hand tightened it, I could already tell there was going to be a problem - the bolt was much too long - and even after tightening it with a ratchet, there was a good 1/16th of an inch play in the banjo. Crap.

In addition, the new crush washers I'd been given were quite clearly too big - so while @mrs.turbodb ran back to Napa, I removed the banjo and used my fingers to apply pressure and stop the brake reservoir from draining out. And then I waited. Turns out that Napa had "misplaced" the container of crush washers, and it was a good 20 minutes before they could finally put their eyes on it. Then, they felt like they didn't have the right size - the inside diameter of their closest washer being about .5mm larger than what I had installed on the truck - so they refused to sell them to us. What!?!

Finally though, after much convincing that there was no alternative, @mrs.turbodb was able to purchase the washers and ran them back over to the truck. Stacking washers - and asking for trouble - I was finally able to get the bolt cinched down enough that nothing was dripping out on the side of the road.

And I hoped it would be enough.

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I cleaned everything up as best I could, got the wheel re-installed, and then we headed back to Napa to return the old core.

I don't know if we got a bum Napa shop, or just bum employees, but the core return was just as wonky as the purchase and crush washer process had been. I'd paid full price for the new caliper - knowing that I could return the old one for a warranty refund - and for some reason it took 15 minutes to convince the person helping us that I should get more than $2.47 refunded to my card.

But, we finally got it sorted, and hoping that everything was good, we found a taco joint that promised delicious meats wrapped in tortillas where we could rejuvenate ourselves before heading back to give the Lolo another try.

To think that we'd get off so easy though would be naive. As we pulled into the taco shop, I took a look at the caliper to make sure there was nothing leaking out through the stacked crush washers. There was brake fluid everywhere.

Our tacos were eaten - but not truly enjoyed - as we discussed next steps. Dealing with Napa had taken way longer than we'd expected, and it was getting close to 4:00pm at this point. We forumlated a plan to check with the local Toyota Dealer, as well as a couple local brake shops, but in the end those options all fell through. Toyota wanted $407 for a single caliper ($37 over MSRP) and couldn't get it delivered for two days. Local brake shops couldn't get us in for two weeks - and to my surprise were unable to fabricate a hard line adapter for the caliper (like this Tacoma-to-Tundra Hard Brake Line Upgrade Kit), so didn't really have any ideas on how to fix the underlying issue.

Wondering what to do, it finally dawned on me that I could give O'Reilly and AutoZone a try. Historically, the general consensus has been that Napa remanned calipers are the ones that fit - but perhaps that's outdated knowledge. Perhaps, in the same way that Napa calipers no longer work, calipers from another part store do work. It was worth a shot, and both O'Reilly and AutoZone had a caliper in stock.

We ended up at O'Reilly - it was on the closer corner as we approached them both - and picked up a caliper that looked like it might work. The threaded hole was deeper, and more importantly the mating surface was machined so it would seal against the crush washer.

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So, it was back up on the Hi-Lift - this thing had really gotten a workout today - for another brake change. Now an expert, the entire process took less than 15 minutes, and as I tightened down the banjo bolt, I knew everything was going to be fine. Now, with the correct number of crush washers, and a flat surface to mate with, everything was snug - just the way it was meant to be.

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We quickly got the core returned and after a quick shower at the local Flying J Travel Plaza, we headed out of town. By the time we arrived at the Lolo Hot Springs to get my forgotten hat, it was a little after 7:30pm, and we decided that our best bet - you guessed it - was to head right back where we'd started the day - to Rocky Point Lookout. After all, though I'm sure none of the three of us had thought it would happen, we had been offered to "come back any time."

As we pulled in just after sunset, the greeting we received was warmer than we could have ever anticipated. All of us happy for the other's company, we each shared our events of the day - hers nearly as exciting as ours, having been caught in a hailstorm and needing to cut 10 fallen trees from the road in order to return to the lookout - as @mrs.turbodb and I cooked up sausages and green beans for dinner. It was, in my opinion, one of the nicest ways to end what had been a completely unexpected road bump in our trip. After an hour of chit-chat and general merriment, we each retired to our evening routines before calling it a day.

A day the likes of which we hoped to avoid for a long time to come; a day we could only refer to as The Curse of the Lolo Motorway.

Epilogue

As a short aside to the story, I think it's prudent to share a couple thoughts I have about the caliper issue we encountered. I'm sure I'll cover these in more detail in a future post, but for now, here are the summaries:

1. The tribal knowledge that Napa remanned 13WL calipers are the ones that work best for the Tundra upgrade is no longer correct. If you can't get your hands on part numbers (L: CAL SE3263) (R: CAL SE3264) - or even if you can - the important thing now is to physically verify that the surface face of the brake line hole is machined/polished and not powder coated/painted, if you plan to use banjo bolts to supply brake fluid to the caliper. Otherwise, you'll never get a good seal.
2. Which brings me to my second point... There is an ongoing debate in the 1st gen Tacoma community as to whether flexible lines with a banjo bolt should be used (as is the case with OEM Tacoma calipers) or if - as part of the conversion to Tundra 13WL calipers - the supply lines should be converted to a combination soft/hard line (as come stock on a Tundra - and, as a point of reference - 3rd gen 4Runner). I'd previously been of the opinion that it was not worth the added cost (~$100) of installing hard lines as I considered Napa Eclipse calipers to be easy to come by and unlikely to change. Now however, I think it may be worth switching to hard lines in order to enable compatibility across a larger number of parts store calipers. More on this in later posts.

 

So, how long did that caliper last? Seems like you got short changed on longevity.

Then you experienced what I like to call The Punishment. Based on "no good deed goes unpunished". Bad luck can explain the caliper seizing on a trip . The Good Deed is figuring out the temp fix to get into town. The Punishment starts when NAPA gives you a shit part , continues through the washer fix fun and failure, bonus points for dealing with the warranty screw up and the icing on the cake of having to go to O'Reilly's for a better made part.

The Punishment is when overcoming multiple obstacles is sabotaged by coincidence better than if someone planned it.

Excellent problem solving BTW.

 

Great trail fix. I agree it is better to do the hard line/ soft line mod when upgrading. Brake cables would also be easier to source. Leads me to an idea of having a brake line plug and or cap in the tool box. Probably cheaper than all the zip ties and you wouldn't have to worry about the dangling caliper.
Great work. Love your photos and write-ups.

 

Well, judging by when I wrote up my Tundra brake upgrade, it looks like the caliper lasted 20 months... Definitely a shorter lifespan than I would have expected! Hahahahahaha

In the end, it was a fun problem solving experimentsb, but I probably only look at it that way because everything worked out. Lol

Thanks for the kudos, glad you're enjoying the posts.

A line cap would have been a great thing to have, and very light to add to the OSK. Might look into adding one myself in case I get a problem anywhere else in the brake system.

 

IDBDR Pt. 8 - Driving the Lolo Motorway
July 24, 2019.

Rocky Point proved once again to be one of the best camp sites of our trip and we slept well through the night. Wanting to capture sunrise, I was up early with a new idea - video - which also allowed me to catch another 90 minutes of sleep and yet still not miss anything!

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Let me tell you, it was quite pleasant to wake up with the sun streaming in through the door at our feet, it's orange morning light illuminating the lookout visible through opposite side of the tent.

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Even with the extra sleep, sunrise was still early enough - and we knew we had a lot of ground to make up - that we were out of the tent and eating a granola bar breakfast by 7:00am. We chatted for another half hour with our gracious host, each wishing each other a safe journey and summer, thankful for the time we'd spent together. And then, we set off again - hopeful that this time we would finally complete the Lolo Motorway.

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The Lolo Motorway is a special road in American history. A route used for hundreds of years by Native American Indians, it was also the route that Lewis and Clark took on their travels west - and every few miles, there is an informative sign explaining their trials and tribulations on the trail. Later, it became a destination for early automobiles, a motorway through the woods. If there'd been Instagram, they'd have been #Overlanders.

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Moving right along, this eastern end of the Motorway was in great shape - the road reasonably graded and while not a completely smooth ride, one that still allowed us to travel at a reasonable 20mph or so - this guy hopping out of our way as we passed by.

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The new brake caliper - and brakes in general - seemingly working just as designed, we put a good 30 miles behind us before coming upon our first exploratory stop of the day - a sacred place known as Indian Post Office.

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Obviously a special place for the Nez Perce, it was clear that this area had been used for several hundred years - and is likely still in use today - it's grand views overlooking the Clearwater National Forest. As we explored, we found several large rock piles - their ritual use unknown to us, but a perfect castle to call home for a little chipmunk.

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We set off again, making our way through the Clearwater National Forest. Traffic on the road - as had been the case for nearly the entirety of our trip was non-existent, allowing us the opportunity to stop here and there for photos without giving a second thought to holding anyone else up.

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Armed with the absolutely beautiful book Backcountry Roads--Idaho, by Lynna Howard, we had a few extra waypoints along the Lolo - in addition to the couple provided by the BDR creators - that we decided to check out. They were of course slight detours off of the route, but even a day behind schedule, we were happy to take the time to experience the area fully.

Our first of these stops was a dramatic fire lookout - the Castle Butte Lookout Tower - perched atop a pile of granite on the top of Castle Butte.

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Quite clearly still in operation, there were apparently two people staffing this lookout (judging from the number of sleeping bags) but they were out exploring for the day when we made our way up to check things out. Like all lookouts, they commanded quite the view of their surroundings.

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Sad to have missed a chance to hand out a few more chocolates - and hear the story of the lookout occupants - we wondered if we'd see them on the trail as we continued our trek west along the ridgeline, our elevation now varying between 5600' and 7000'. At these elevations, it was still spring, and boy were we in for a show. Some of the brightest green grass we'd seen so far, wildflowers lighting up the hillsides. Add to that the fact that - for really the first time - the forest was mostly unburned, and it was one of the most beautiful sections of the route so far!

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By this time - still an hour or so before we'd need to stop for lunch - nearly half of the Lolo Motorway was behind us and we were starting to wonder if the reports we'd heard about the terrible road conditions where maybe blown just a little out of proportion. Several motorcycle riders, and a few online posts I'd read before leaving had mentioned a rocky, pot-holed mess - yet we'd covered ground here at least as fast as we had on the Macgruder.

But as we stumbled upon a pretty cool camp setup - this guy had built a really nice truck tent complete with wood heat stove - things were about to change.

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I don't know if it's because the western end of the Motorway is more lightly (or heavily) traveled, or if the composition of the ground is different, or perhaps there's more/less precipitation - but the road there is clearly in much worse shape. What had been a brisk pace was suddenly slowed to 10mph or less, certain areas - of loose rock and deep potholes - even benefiting from 4Lo, as we seemingly started to inch our way along the route.

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It was the perfect time for another side trip - this time to Weitas Fire Lookout. (Side note: yes, I realize that much of this trip has essentially been Fire Lookouts of Idaho as opposed to the IDBDR.)

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Unlike the last several lookouts we'd visited, Weitas was unstaffed. We'd learned at Hell's Half Acre Lookout that over 90% of all US lookouts are no longer staffed, and it wasn't surprising to me that this was one of the ones that no longer supported a resident. Standing on an extremely tall wooden base, Weitas surely sways to-and-fro in the wind, not nearly as safe as some of the newer, lower lookouts that are now constructed out of concrete block.

As @mrs.turbodb prepped lunch, I ventured up the stairs - or more appropriately, ladders - to the lookout platform. It was a long climb, one that was a bit sketchy even for me - the wood creaking under my weight, my hands full with cameras, apples, water, and potato chips to round out our lunch.

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With a brisk breeze and a fair amount of rot on the top catwalk, I decided that this probably wasn't the safest place in the world to eat lunch, so I headed back down a couple levels, where I met @mrs.turbodb on her way up, sandwiches in hand. We figured that was a great place to eat - much better than 25' below, where hoards of flies were buzzing about in the mid-day sun.

Plus, it's not like the view was anything to scoff at.

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Our bellies satisfied, we climbed back in the truck to make our final push to complete the Lolo by mid-afternoon - both of us ready to get onto some roads that were a bit less tooth-rattling than we'd been subjected to for the last several hours.

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Still, before we were done, we had one more lookout to bag - Hemlock Butte - perched on the western-most end of the Lolo Motorway, just before it descends 2000' to it's end in the sleepy town of Pierce, Idaho. Like Wietas, Hemlock Butte is on wooden stilts - but despite that fact, it's still a staffed lookout.

So much for my theory about safety.

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Looking forward to sharing a few more stories, we called up to get permission to climb the stairs. There was no response. Strange, given that there was a pickup truck parked below the lookout, but we figured that perhaps the occupant had gone to scout the area, or fill a tub full of huckleberries - spring in full bloom here as well.

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So, you can imagine our surprise when we reached the top and found the occupant sitting in the lookout, reading a book. The first one up, I apologetically asked if he minded us being there, and he shook his head no - immediately returning to reading, ignoring us completely.

I suppose that the job of fire lookout can be quite appealing to extreme introverts, as most of the time you have the entire place to yourself - and so we did our best to be quick about soaking up the views and getting out of this guys hair - snapping just a few shots, and admiring the artwork on his lookout door.

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And with that and a few more miles, the Lolo was behind us! It had been an adventure for sure - taking a day longer than we expected, providing us with hardship and some of our favorite memories from the trip. It had definitely lived up to its lofty expectations.

Rolling into Pierce, we were also at the end of stage 5, with three more stages to go before we reached the Canadian border. Pierce though, was worth a stop - for two reasons. The first was fuel - we needed some, and this was the only gas station for miles. The second was a visit to the old court house - the oldest standing public building in Idaho, built in 1861.

Unfortunately, it was closed and a little plain - but hey, not all history has to be stupendously colorful!

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With that, we were off - the roads now in much better shape than the Lolo, logging clearly the driving industry in these parts. We once again sped along, wide graded gravel making it easy to maintain speeds near 35mph.

Well, except for when I saw an enormous loader and just had to stop. I mean, who wouldn't want to climb up and sit in this thing?! If only I'd had the courage to turn the key and press the start button, hahahaha.

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Through the woods, we made our way towards what would become our base for the evening overlooking the Dworshak Reservoir. Leased - or owned, I'm not sure - by the Potlatch Corporation, much of the land around the reservoir is quite clearly used as a tree farm - large swaths of land in various stages of growth, including several natural Christmas Tree farms.

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As we drove through, I found it interesting that some parts of the forest seemed to be clear cut, while others were obviously being selectively harvested, a strategy that is surely more labor intensive, but which I prefer aesthetically.

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Coming out of the forest and onto Grandad Bridge - which spans the Dworshak Reservoir - we ran into three more dual-sport riders, headed east and enjoying the blue skies and open water just as much as we were. After sharing stories of our previous few days - they'd been out on the trail for serveral as well - it was time to keep moving, our focus now on finding a spot to camp for the night.

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But, finding a spot to camp in the middle of an active logging operation isn't the easiest thing in the world. Many of the spur roads were gated - likely to prevent campers from ending up too close to danger - and non-spur roads had relatively few pull-outs and with dusty gravel surfaces, would have been terrible had a logging truck barreled by.

But @mrs.turbodb had a spot she'd found on the map that she hoped would work. It appeared to be around the back side of a small knoll overlooking the reservoir, off of the main road, but not really a spur. We crossed our fingers and pushed on the 10 miles or so to check it out.

It was perfect - at least geographically. A large flat area, we had some of the best territorial views we could hope for, and little spots of water to boot. We knew as soon as we arrived that this was where we'd be spending the night.

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We'd brought along a marinated steak, and this was the perfect night to eat it, along with some more of our home-grown green beans. I got to grilling as @mrs.turbodb steamed the beans, and in no time we were fighting off the flies and yellow jackets as we tried to wolf down our dinner. As great as the spot was geographically, it was a pain in the but from a fly perspective!

Of course, we had a solution for bugs - and that was to get into the tent to enjoy and evening of reading and napping - so as dinner got cleaned up, I setup and prepped the tent for occupation. It was a pleasant evening for sure, a warm breeze blowing off the lake, the suns rays casting warm light across the landscape as it fell behind the hills.

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Eventually, all that was left was a glow. I'd fallen asleep at least twice already by this point, and so with one final photo I closed my eyes and listened to the coyotes howling in the distance - their hoots the perfect melody to put me to sleep.

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Huh, interesting. We ran into a rentable lookout later in the trip, but Castle Butte looked like it was actually staffed for fire (it still had Osborne Fire Finder).

 

Man that tower makes the Ute Tower in the Ashley look weak.



They keep the public locked out of it...

 

It's always super cool to see the different lookout styles. We saw 3-4 different styles on this trip alone. Always fun to compare to the ones here in WA as well. Some are tall, gotta get above the treeline.

Anyone ever stayed in one?

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Three Fingers in Washington State has a lookout. LINK 2 of us had left our climbing gear below at the saddle and when we got there we were only a short distance from the ladder. But there was a steep slab of snow between us and the ladder and a LONG drop. We slept on the granite, right there, with packrats chewing our boots all night.

 

Sometimes you don't need to raise the lookout station above the ground. This is Buck Rock Lookout in Sequoia National Park.


Trivia: When they first built it there weren't stairs, they laid cut logs on the rocks with cut pieces of 2x4s for a ladder, like a kid's tree house access. Took them a couple of decades to finally put steps in.

 

Your trips are awesome. It’s inspiring to see.

 

Yeah, it's hard not to, given that a third of the floor is missing, hahahahaha. Hey, at least it's not windy up there. Oh, wait.

That looks awesome. I need to get there sometime.

Thanks man, I appreciate that you appreciate them. They are a blast of course, so fun to do in the moment and looking back!