AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

Awesome stories; thank you for all the inspiration.

What sort of highway mileage are you seeing these days with larger tires/gears? How are you liking those Coopers?

 

Thanks! Glad you're enjoying. One more day on this trip, and then a couple more to go. Summer is a busy time!

Sure thing - get out there an enjoy!

Highway these days averages right around 16.9-17.0 mpg. That's for 2019 to date, with 12,337 highway miles driven.

As far as the Coopers go, I think they are the best 255/85R16 tire available. The tread pattern is a nice AT/MT mix, they are reasonably quiet on the road, and they've been puncture-free for me so far. Oh, and they seem to wear really well to me - I put 30K on my first set, and they had a ton of life left.

On the "down" side - I do not like the E-load weight of them, but as far as I can tell, there are no C-load 255/85R16's out there, so it's hard to hold that against them. And, I like the Duratrac tread pattern better, but alas, no 255/85R16's are available.

 

Getting Even Higher in Idaho, Again
July 7, 2019.

It rained on and off through the night, but it was warm enough that the tents dried off quickly each time it did. And of course, cloudy skies meant no sunrise - and for me, more sleep!

Having circled the trucks in camp, things were reasonably peaceful save a single growl from Venice at some point during the night. The next morning, Kyle @KP907 noted that he'd seen a coyote just a couple hundred feet from camp - the likely impetuous for the verbal warning.

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The on-again-off-again rain continued as breakfasts were prepared, and we all took advantage of a short break in the weather to get our tents semi-dried and put away before getting on the road just before 9:00am. As it turns out, our trip to the main road would be our last few minutes together - Mikey @pizzaviolence and Kyle and Nicole deciding to head home rather than continue on with the day's excursion.

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That of course meant that it was time for a final group shot - a shot that shows one truck clearly doesn't belong - Ben having trained his fellow Idaho brethren well. #ka-chow fells! ::

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Now down to three trucks - Ben and Kirsten, Will @willhaman21 and Angie, and @mrs.turbodb and I - headed to a pair of destinations that would be the perfect cap to this wondiferous trip: Livingston Mine and Railroad Ridge.

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These were also the last two places that we'd visited on last year's trip, and if we're being honest, we had some unfinished business at the Livingston Mine. See, last year the mine had thoroughly creeped us out - our retreat initiated when a local resident scared the bejeezus out of Kirsten as they pulled into the camp.

This year, things would be different. and by different, I mean that Ben suggested I lead the way into the mine! Just fine by me.

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The mine was quite clearly just as weird as it'd been the year before. The paint may have faded slightly, and there might have been an additional "TRUMP" or two painted here and there, but by and large it was unchanged. Including the cairn field - it's meaning still unknown, our imaginations racing.

"Any idea what the names carved into the rocks might mean?" I asked over the radio, followed by an evil laugh! (There were no names on any of the rocks.)

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Last year, we never got any further than this - so as we pulled into what I can only call the parking area of the old mine, I was as curious as could be. And, as I pulled up to the front door of the main house, I had to admit - it was a little "off" - especially if you were named "Everett."

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We'd hoped to get a tour at this point - so we all dismounted and gave the crazy-people-eaters plenty of time to descend on us - but in the end, no one showed up. Eventually - knowing that the mine was still private - we decided it was time to move on, and we made our way out the way we'd come.

Along the way, we noted the presence of a 2nd gen Tacoma. Left over from the last visitor, or a sign that the residents were pretty cool?

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We continued up the hill - past the old mill - the beginning of our 3500' climb falling behind us; our snow-capped destination in the distance.

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The climb - while high and fast at just over 7 miles - doesn't seem bad when you're doing it. I'm not sure why - perhaps the fact that the road is cut well into the mountain, or the fact that you're distracted by the views as you progress - but it doesn't really matter, because as you start to reach the top, everything changes.

Trees disappear completely. Mountain tops show themselves. It gets windy. And the smells are sublime - the wind carrying the scent of the tiny wildflowers quickly over the mountains summit.

But there's still 1000' to go!

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So up we went, the highest road in Idaho, ours for the travelling. There would be - at least for a moment - no Toyota's higher.

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And did I mention the smells? We weren't the only ones enjoying them. This little guy was too - at least, I'd like to think so.

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From the top, the views were as spectacular this year as they'd been the year before. If anything, there was more snow, a sign that we were unlikely to get far exploring a Jeep trail that'd been impassable on our last visit.

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And so, with one last hurrah, we pulled our trucks into position along an old mining road just off of the peak. Up on the edge, each one maneuvered just so, all three women deciding it was better done after they'd dismounted from the vehicles.

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And with that, we headed back down. The last 24 hours had seen us on both of Idaho's highest roads, and now it was finally time to air up and move out. Our stomachs wanted lunch, our bodies wanted showers, and we were all ready to do it again.

We pointed our trucks west and parted ways in Boise - sure to meet up again in the near future!

Hope you enjoyed the story! Get out there an explore.​

 

This is why I bumped up to OEM 17" FJ Cruiser wheels and went with 255/75R17's - to get Load Range C. Better gas mileage, more power (lost ~8lbs per wheel), extra ~1" of tire height coming from 265/75r16. They are so smooth aired down to 20psi. I haven't bothered airing down lower yet because they aren't a stiff as granite like my previous Load Range E's.

 

Excel in the Wild
July 15, 2019.

Every year, during the month of October, a really great thing happens at Microsoft. Teams of all sizes - from just a few folks, to organizations thousands strong - rally around a common cause. Every year, that rallying cry gets stronger - millions of dollars stronger than just the year before. And every one of those millions is matched by the company - dollar for dollar, as high as it can go. Last year, over $163 million dollars and 760,000 volunteer hours were donated to various charities and causes that employees cared about.

That is the power of the Microsoft Giving Campaign.

And, while some may say, "They get paid so much, it's no big deal." Just remember - like votes, every dollar counts - and this many millions can do a lot of good.

Of course, that's all fine and dandy - but what the heck does it have to do with my adventures? Well, last year - for the first time - one of the members of the Excel team auctioned off a day-long offroad adventure for three lucky bidders. Another team member jumped in as well, auctioning off another three seats, and when it was all said and done, several thousand dollars had been earmarked for charity.

The two awesome folks were Joe and Dave. You may recall them from an earlier story - where I took them, and their "Stormtrooper" 4Runners, on their first offroad adventure. This time, I was the one who was thrilled when I was asked to tag along!

As happens with any large team like Excel, finding a date took some coordination. Like, 7 months worth. Eventually, schedules aligned and we figured that the middle of July would provide perfect weather for such an outing. And, on the morning of July 15, at 7:45am, we all showed up in the Microsoft parking lot, ready to show a bunch of the team what it was like to crawl up a trail, to a lake, for lunch!

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Of course, being that this was Seattle, the day was overcast - Julyuary, as it were - and as we set out east to Fortune Creek, it started to rain. Perfect.

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No matter, it was another hour to the trail head outside of Roslyn, WA, where we'd be airing down - plenty of time to drive out of the rain and into the sun. Which is exactly what didn't happen by the time we arrived. Instead, we all go wet in our shorts and flip-flops as we lowered our tire pressures to between 15 and 22 lbs.

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Now would also probably be a good time to 'splain the trucks. So, there's of course me with my green 1st gen Tacoma. Next, there's Joe with his white 5th gen 4Runner - he's the guy who got this whole thing rolling, so kudos to Joe. Then, Dave - he's got the blue TRD Pro 4Runner. As you may expect, there's a story to the transition from his Stormtrooper TRD Offroad 4Runner to this one, but that's not for me to tell. And last (exactly because it's not a Toyota) is the Jeep Rubicon - driven by Stacy and her husband Scott; also thrilled to to be invited in the same way I was.

All aired down, we were off. With varying skill levels - and a bunch of passengers who'd never been offroad - the first few miles were a nice introduction - well graded, forest service road. And then, we turned off onto the Fortune Creek trail.

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The going was slow, but fun - for the most part, the trail well-traveled enough that we pointed our trucks up, and there we went. Only one place did a little pruning need to occur - and there, only because the shrub was weighed down by the recent rain. Oh, and because Dave doesn't have any pinstripes on his shiny blue 4Runner yet!

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This trail, it turns out, is a good one for reasonably new offroaders. There are a few places where choosing the right line can make things a lot easier, but choosing the wrong line won't lead to any real harm. Of course, for Scott and Stacy in their Rubicon with 35" tires, lines weren't an issue at all.

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Joe - group leader for the day - has also been getting a bit of experience under his belt, and it showed. Where this trail was pushing his limits the first time he ran it, it was clear that he was having a much better - and slightly more relaxed - time the second time around.

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Dave, the "rookie" of the bunch (in as much as "rookie" can ever be used to describe Dave) was perhaps a bit out of his element, but was nonetheless a quick learner. A bit of guidance on lines, and he too was churning his way up the mountain - the stock 4Runner doing everything he asked and more.

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Of course, the Tacoma was great fun too - but I'm not really here to talk about that (today!)

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And then, excitement! As we wound our way up the hill - perhaps a bit more slowly than Joe had planned, but right in-line with what should be expected of this rag-tag group of low-achievers - our only trail damage of the day. It was Joe. And, on the same obstacle he'd gotten a bit of a scratch the first time he'd run Fortune Creek.

That time, he'd just scraped his tail pipe. This time, he flattened the tail pipe and shed a bit of weight from his rear end. Luckily, just the plastic cover for his bumper. But hey, time for that new steel bumper now Joe!

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A bit of spotting for Dave, "Oh, so that's the right line." from Joe, and pointing the front wheels forward for the Rubicon and Tacoma, and we were soon at our destination - a nice little saddle at the top of Fortune Creek.

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And it was lunch time! Lunch of course was on Joe since he'd auctioned this whole thing off - and he went all the way. Chips and guac, burgers with all the fixings, and of course - sodas of our picking. Well, OK, the sodas just came from the fridges at work.

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Everyone fed, it was time for our group photo - because how could you do a trip like this without one, right?

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Lunch done, it was time to head back down the hill - we all had places to be and important things to do. Well, most of us anyway - I was just going to go home and get ready for another trip.

Of course, this is when the clouds really started to part and the sun started to come out. Washington summer.

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Going was once again slow, but it was clear that even in just this one shorting trek, everyone had gotten more comfortable with the capabilities of their vehicles. It was a fun transition to watch, that's for sure!

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And then, much too soon for me - we were at the bottom. The usual formalities ensued - airing up and chit-chat - and before long we were all done. Ready to pound pavement, westward bound - towards home.

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It was a seriously great day. Everyone had a ball as far as I could tell, and here's to hoping that it's just the first in what becomes a tradition for the Excel team. I for one know that I'll be there every year it happens, if they'll have me.

Oh, and lest I forget - the real group photo. Don't mind the "now already old" Excel icon.

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Recalc or Die!

 

Idaho Backcountry Discovery Route (Jul 2019)
July 17, 2019.

We've run two Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDRs) in the past - Oregon in 2017 and Washington in 2018. So, when it came to planning for this year, we decided that we'd run what we thought would be one of the coolest BDRs out there - Idaho.

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Little did we realize that it would mean spending most of July in the beautiful state - we had, after all, just finished exploring the southeast and then the central parts of Idaho a couple weeks before we'd planned to embark on this south-to-north traverse of the state.

Not that we were complaining - this was clearly, our year to explore Idaho!

As far as the route itself goes, at 1,250 miles the IDBDR is much longer than either Oregon or Washington - understandable given that Idaho is as tall as the other two states combined.

Over the eight stages, we'd have the chance to traverse both the historic Macgruder Corridor and the Lolo Motorway; to experience highs and lows - the route rising and falling from 1500' to over 8600' above sea level; to see and experience much that the state has to offer - from dry desert to temperate rain forest.

Of course, through it all, we knew we'd encounter some obstacles - we just didn't know what they'd be. Like Oregon had been, we'd be going solo; unlike Oregon, we and the truck were significantly more prepared and capable.

We'd allotted up to 11 days to complete the trip - unsure whether the roads would be fast (like Washington) or slow (like Oregon) - hoping that we could cover a section each day, with a couple days travel to-and-from home.

We'd start in the historic town of Jarbidge, NV as we made our way north - mostly on dirt roads - towards Canada and the Rykerts crossing. We'd surely pass countless fire lookouts and hot springs. If we were lucky, we'd see a wide array of wildlife - deer, elk, moose, perhaps even a bear or mountain lion.

And so it was, that on a Wednesday in the middle of the month, we packed up our passports, a few changes of clothes, and enough food for most of our trip, and headed east - a cool 717 miles standing between us and the beginning of our IDBDR adventure.

It was midnight when we finally found camp a few miles outside of Jarbridge, having just missed hitting a cow calf who wandered into the road in front of the truck. Exhausted, we climbed into the tent and were asleep within minutes, excited for what the next day had in store!

 

IDBDR Pt. 2 - Across the Snake River Plain
July 18, 2019.

Having arrived late the night before, we were not up early. We'd slept well next to the East Fork of the Jarbridge River just outside Murphy Hot Springs, and it was a little after 10:00am when we rolled into Jarbridge, NV - the official start of the Idaho Backcountry Discovery Route.

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Our first order of business was to fill up with fuel. I wasn't sure that we really needed to do this (it turns out we didn't), but I wanted to make sure we at least started off on the right foot for this trip. Plus, we'd filled up recently so even at $4.98/gal, the total cost wasn't all that expensive.

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Having contributed our small fortune to the Nevada economy, we set out to look around this little gold-mining town - a town that likely now sees more BDR adventurers than folks looking for the shiny yellow stuff. It was quite the time capsule, and we soaked it in. A community park houses a bunch of cool machinery from the early 1900's including an old headframe - used to raise and lower miners inside vertical shafts, and this "one-lunger" - an old single cylinder engine, which legend has it gained 2 hrsprs when it was painted green with pink flowers.

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The last bit of memorabilia we spent a few minutes at was much newer. It was a shovel - of the short-and-stubby variety - that had been enlarged a few dozen times, for what reason we had no idea. But, the plaques on it said that a bunch of offroad and 4x4 clubs had participated in it's construction, making us wonder - where were its beaver teeth? #NotBigEnoughForInsta

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Our tour of the town behind us, it was time to start our trek north. Having driven the same road south just a few minutes earlier to get to Jarbridge, you might think this would be something we weren't exactly looking forward to. In our case, it was quite the contrary - knowing we were headed back, we hadn't really stopped on the way down - but we had gotten a few glimpses of the canyon, and it was super cool!

I mean, for geology goobers such as ourselves.

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Add to that a bit of graffiti we found painted along the side of the river - and subtract out the "seriously, why would someone do that?" - and it made for a quite enjoyable start to the trip.

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Soon though, we were out of the canyon carved by the Jarbridge River, and into what I can only call the flats of Idaho. It was just a few short weeks ago that we'd found ourselves in these same flats as we'd explored our way to Indian Hot Springs - and we figured that fact entitled us to make good time through this section.

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Even making good time, there was a lot of flat - enough that we got hungry somewhere in the middle of it and decided that a lone tree along the side of the road for us to sit under was probably as good an opportunity as we'd get to stuff our faces with some delicious sandwiches that @mrs.turbodb whipped up out of the back of the truck - turkey (and the fixings) for me, and some sort of roast-veggie-and-hummus concoction for herself.

Oh, and freshly picked cherries. Yes, we were off to a good start.

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Of course, we could only drag lunch out so long before it was back onto the flats, many of which we continued to recognize from our previous trip. But then - as we drove along the edge of the Air Force bombing range - a change. To the driver side (away from the range), everything was normal; to the passenger side, black and burned. Guess some of the runs got a little out of control sometime in the couple weeks we'd been gone!

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We pushed forward, our speeds on these well-graded gravel roads never really dropping below 40mph, and I found myself wondering if we'd complete the first section of the BDR early, despite our late start at the beginning of the day. Over the next couple hours, we saw a few things here and there - an pronghorn, a water tower, even Sailor Cap Butte - but we started to joke that perhaps BDR stood for "Boring, Don't Run."

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But, at those speeds, we eventually found our way nearer to Hammett and Glenns Ferry, where the landscape got at least a bit more interesting - some amazing sunflowers lining the road, the green of irrigation stretching out before our eyes.

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And then - in the distance - a cloud of dust. Unsure what it was, we continued on. Eventually, the source became clear - dual combines churning through a field of wheat. Like any kid at heart, I've got a soft spot for big machines like this, and having never seen a combine at work up close, I couldn't help myself but to climb out of the truck to stand on top of the @Cascadia Tents RTT to snap a few photos.

The grin on the combine driver's face said it all - even with some weirdo standing on top of his truck, snapping photos - he too was enjoying the experience.

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Now a little over 100 miles into our 1,250 mile journey, we fueled up in Glenns Ferry before heading north towards the start of what would be a very mountainous journey. But for now, we were still in the heart of farm land - the bales of hay enormous as they lay in the field soaking up the sun.

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Slowly though, the scenery began to change. First, it was just to our west - the road a clear demarcation between the sagebrush and grassland. Then, as we started our climb, the surroundings got greener. "It's amazing how excited I am to see such a wimpy forest." I remarked to my copilot, chuckling.

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Then, out of the corner of our eye, we caught sight of something we've only seen once before - and in much larger quantities: Mormon Crickets. There weren't all that many - maybe only five in a 100 sqft area - but they were much more active than the swarms we'd stumbled upon a year before as we'd headed from Idaho to California. Still, even with just a few, they were quite the sight to see. Imagine the fish you could catch with one of these monsters!

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Finally in Idaho's foothills, we crested the edge of the canyon overlooking Anderson Ranch Reservoir. There, extending in front of us as far as the eye could see - blue. This dam and reservoir are used for power generation and irrigation of Boise Valley, but perhaps most importantly of all, these waters are teaming with Salmon. With a limit of 25/day per person, there are a lot of Kokanee to be had out of this lake.

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Hopeful that we could find a place to camp along the lake's edge, we continued down to the dam - our only reservation really, that the same beauty that drew us to the lake would also draw other hoards as well.

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Unfortunately, as we made our way north along the west edge of the lake, our reservations were proving warranted. At every access to the water, there were droves of people. Unlike us, they were clearly in it for the long-haul - campers, inflatable rafts, and all manner of water toys surrounding them and their children as they played in the shallows.

Convinced we were going to have to leave this gem behind, we continued on - until, to our amazement - we came upon a gem of a site with absolutely no one around. In hindsight, this was likely due to the access being steep and rutted - a couple groups of people who attempted the road after us getting stuck before noticing us in the camp site below.

For us, it was perfect. Well, except for all the kindling that the previous occupants had kindly left for us. PSA: this stuff doesn't burn, no reason to leave it in the fire pit.

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Still tired from the previous day's drive, and glad to have a bit of shade next to the water, it wasn't long before we'd traded our Tacoma seats for some camp chairs and Kindles. This was definitely the right way to kick off a BDR!

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And then, as we were reading and otherwise enjoying ourselves - a commotion on the water. In the distance at first, the churning made it's way closer - in spurts - until it was within 100 feet or so of our camp. Some sort of water fowl it turned out, were apparently hearding fish into the shallows and then pouncing - their efforts reaching a fevered pitch that churned the water into a rapid! Upon closer inspection, it appeard that there were only a few adults in the crowd, the rest of the birds all smaller - perhaps yearlings?

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We too were getting a bit hungry at this point, and the truck was now in the shade - so we abandoned our books for the few minutes that it took to break taco fixings out of the ARB 50qt fridge (which was humming away on the house battery I'd recently installed) and get them assembled - with guacamole of course - into a feast befitting royalty.

OK, probably not really royalty.

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As the sun got lower in the sky, we devoured the tacos and got the tent setup before heading back to our chairs to enjoy the show of light over the lake. First of course, it was that warm glow that comes with late evening, and then - eventually - the sky lit up with a bit of a show.

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It was a nice relaxing end to our first day on the road. Little did we know as we climbed into the tent and squeezed in a few more minutes with our books, a cool breeze filtering off the lake - that with the possible exception of one other, it would probably be our most relaxing day.

Of course, that means there's excitement to come!

 

Yes way, if he had any other SCS wheel I'd agree with you but compared to stealth 6s in any color they're better

 

Don't know whether to agree or disagree, hahahhaha.

 

It's subjective, so why not both haha, we wouldn't argue about anything if we only discussed objective things

 

Why did Joe have the Trasharoo so high on his ladder? Seems like lower would allow better visibility. Only thing I can think is that he didn't want to scratch the paint, but that could be easily remedied.

 

Looks like his Fridge is on that side anyway, with some stuff on top for storage as well. So he wouldn't really be able to see out of that side either way. Having it up higher also allows for sag.

Also, license plate visibility.

 

Dunno, never really noticed it myself. I mean, people put trasharoos in all kinds of weird places.

Could be this. It's funny how plate visibility matters to some, and is a detractor for others.

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IDBDR Pt. 3 - Stymied By Gates
July 19, 2019.

The night passed uneventfully - a cool breeze blowing off the lake, a refreshing relief from the heat of the day. Now technically in Mountain time, I'd set my alarm for the absurd hour of 5:30am to catch sunrise - hoping that I'd be able to catch a bit of light despite our position relative to the horizon.

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It wasn't long, I was a bit too late even at 5:30am, and we've surely seen more dramatic sunrises, but it was still an enjoyable few minutes of color to see splashed across the sky. Plus, it was still early enough that I knew there were at least a couple more hours of sleep to be had once I climbed back into the tent, the moon still high in the early morning sky.

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Having enjoyed our more leisurely start the day before, we stayed in bed reading until just after 8:00am when an engine-revving, tire-spinning, ruckus outside the tent caught our attention. Contorting ourselves so we could see out one of the side windows, we looked up the trail towards the main road to see a pickup precariously perched sideways, completely stuck as it tried to turn around. Seems that he'd started down towards our camp before seeing that it was occupied. At that point, he made the poor decision to turn around on the rutted, off-camber, road and was now unable to get the purchase necessary in order to free himself. Luckily for him, another truck just happened to be passing along the main road, and with the help of a rope that seemed much too small for the task, they were able to get him pulled out and to safety - at which point he sped off without so much as a "Thanks." Strange dude.

It was enough excitement to get us up and moving - probably a good thing given what lay ahead for the day. Breakfast was a simple one for us as we got packed up - cereal with fresh blueberries from our garden, enjoyed at the lake's edge.

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Soon, camp was packed and we were back on the road, our half-loop around Anderson Ranch Reservoir complete, our route taking us through the small town of Pine - where we stopped to fuel up - before heading north into the mountains, where we played leap-frog with a pair of motorcycles we'd shared the pumps with a few minutes before - each of us enjoying the views as we wound our way up the IDBDR.

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The game could have gone on much longer - each of us likely wanting to be out in front to avoid the dust - but @mrs.turbodb and I were soon distracted by a couple of side trips, allowing the bikes to pull far enough ahead that we wouldn't see them for the rest of the trip. The first was a short jaunt up to the Trinity Mountain warming hut - one of the nicest I've seen, sure to be a nice relief for snowmobilers out on a cold winter run!

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Unfortunately, it was locked this time of year - so after a short investigation of the perimeter, we were back on the road and headed to our next - much longer - detour, just visible on the most distant mountaintop: Trinity Mountain Fire Lookout.

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If you're running the IDBDR, this is most definitely a side trip that I'd recommend. In fact, I'd say it was one of the coolest places we ended up over the entire excursion - though now I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. First, we had to make our way up through the Trinity Lakes area - several roads to remote campgrounds and trailheads (that looked to be great getaways) leading off the side of the road. Eventually, we found ourselves at just over 8000', our path blocked by a locked gate, still two miles from the lookout.

Where was our ATV when we needed it?!

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Undeterred, we decided that given the beauty of our surroundings, we might as well hike the two miles and 1500' to the lookout - after all, what's the point of an adventure through Idaho without actually seeing what it has to offer?

Oh, and it was immediately clear why the road was closed. I mean, with the right tools, these rocks could have been cleared, but as it was - no trucks were getting around.

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As we steadily climbed higher, we couldn't have been happier to see our surroundings. At this elevation, it was still spring. Snow was melting into alpine lakes, everything alive under the warm summer sun.

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Several switchbacks and 45 minutes later, we reached the top. The lookout was unstaffed but plenty accessible, and we spent a good amount of time taking in the expansive views.

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As seems to be the case at many lookouts, we found a few other interesting tidbits as well. Two geodetic survey markers within about 3 feet of each other, and a calling-card from some World War II era visitors to the area, some 11 years before the survey markers were placed.

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Eventually, it was our stomachs that pulled us away from this amazing place, the two mile hike back down to the Tacoma and lunch just as spectacular as they'd been on the way up.

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As @mrs.turbodb prepped our sandwiches, I explored a bit around the saddle that had been the end of the drivable road for us. Wildflowers were out in their full regalia, and a bouquet was born.

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By the time we'd wrapped up lunch and headed back down towards our primary route, it was a little after 1:30pm - a nearly 4-hour detour that had been worth every minute. And it wasn't our last detour - not even the last of the day - on this trip!

As one does, @mrs.turbodb had gathered several books about Idaho - it's history, geology, and several interesting back-country routes - that she was continually flipping through and reading sections out of as we made our way north. And, it wasn't long before she was reading the history of a small town - Rocky Bar - that was a mere 10 miles off our route. With a colorful gold mining history, this was clearly something that we didn't want to pass up, and so for the third time, we abandoned our primary objective and opted for the scenic route.

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Even before we got to Rocky Bar, it was clear that this area had seen a lot of mining in its day. Mines dotted the sides of the road - some just old tailing piles, others with buildings and equipment still standing - at least for now. Naturally, the more interesting ones were worth a few minutes of our time.

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And then, eventually, we reached Rocky Bar itself. Unsure what we were going to find - our books suggesting that there had been, but were no longer, any full-time residents - we pulled up to a "town" that consisted of a few run-down buildings, several dozen "no trespassing" signs, another family out exploring, and one grumpy resident who assured them that, "There's a lot of history, but I'm not in the mood to tell it at the moment."

Overhearing that, we took the cue and looked around a bit ourselves, doing our best to keep a wide berth in that area of town!

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Established in 1863, Rocky Bar was founded after gold was discovered along the Feather River, which flows nearby. It quickly became the main settlement of the area, with nearly 2500 residents and serving as the county seat of Alturas County from 1864-1882. By 1864, there were 80 arastras working the nearby ground, when a twelve stamp mill was hauled by ox team from Omaha to Rocky Bar for thirty cents a pound. In 1892 much of Rocky Bar was wiped out by fire, but the town was soon rebuilt and mining continued, though with slower output - much of the ore having already been processed. Today, there are still a few summer residents but the old mills have been pretty much torn down. With the death of Charley Sprittles, Rocky Bar's last winter-time resident, the deep snows and wintry winds have this old camp all to themselves. (Southern Idaho Ghost Towns)

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Much more quickly than we'd departed the lookout, we took our leave from Rocky Bar and got back on the designated route north. As had been the case so far, the roads were mostly good, gravel, Forest Service roads, and we made reasonably good time through the 93°F heat of the afternoon, enjoying the sights but stopping only infrequently given our reasonable tardiness at this point.

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It was at this point that @mrs.turbodb noticed something on the GPS track that gave her pause. "Umm," she said as she looked over at me, "how wide is the truck?"

Knowing exactly why she was asking, I nonchalantly replied with, "Depends how you measure I guess, but something around 65- to 75-inches. Why do you ask?"

"There's a 50-inch wide bridge coming up." she said, looking a bit worried.

Of course, this was something I already knew, having put the route together a couple weeks earlier. Luckily, I also knew that this was simply an out-of-date waypoint from the IDBDR web site, the bridge having been rebuilt - and widened - in 2016, now "normal size" and no problem at all.

"Hope the river's not too deep then." I replied.

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The widest 50" wide bridge in the world.​

With only 35% of the day's route behind us at this point, you can imagine our joy when half-an-hour later, we were stopped in our tracks by a road closed sign.

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We'd later find out that FS-385 - one that led through the town of Banner (and its mine) to Idaho's Highway 21 - had been closed due to washout in early 2018 and wasn't scheduled to open until at least the end of 2019. Awesome that the IDBDR route had no mention of it - or a re-route - on the web site.

Without cell service, and with BCN showing that the only re-route was to backtrack southwest - even further along Highway 21 - we noticed that if we buried our heads in the sand and headed east, Jackson Peak fire lookout was a mere 24 mile round trip away. Distracted as squirrels, we decided to go investigate.

So once again, we started our ascent. It was after 7:00pm at this point, and our hope was that - like Trinity Mountain - the lookout would be unstaffed, so we could camp at its base without disturbing anyone inside. Of course, that meant that we were also hoping that there would be no gate, keeping us from the top.

Nope. And nope.

A quarter mile from the top at a small saddle, the gate was locked. Luckily for us, there was an 1-truck sized pull out that offered a bit of shelter from the wind, and an easterly view of the Sawtooth mountains, and a wildfire billowing smoke near Eightmile Mountain.

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We leveled out the truck and decided that before making dinner, we'd head up to the lookout. It was of course staffed - or at least, the windows were all open - but a few calls up of "Hello" went unreturned and we took that as a hint that whoever was inside wanted nothing to do with us at this early evening hour.

Their loss of course, we'd come bearing chocolate.

I took the opportunity - I think a bit to @mrs.turbodb's dismay - to climb a nearby radio tower, and snap a few photos of the lookout before heading back down to the truck to make dinner.

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As our second night of tacos were prepared, and as the sun started to set, I took a bit of time to go explore a nearby knoll - the sun's rays casting an orange sparkle over the wildflowers, and a pinkish hue across the Sawtooths in the distance.

Score another win for our detours of the day!

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Tacos with guac were consumed hastily - as tends to be the case after a long day on the road - as the sun dropped below the horizon behind us, an orange glow spreading across the sky. I'd waited to set up the tent while we cooked, hoping that the wind would die down a bit, and now that it had, I unfolded it and we climbed in.

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We'd gotten a bit of LTE service here on the top of the mountain - enough to have read about the road closure 20 months earlier - and to do enough research to know that we could route out to Highway 21 for only a short distance - allowing us to continue on what looked to be a fun, twisty section just after Banner.

That information in hand, we read our books for a few minutes as the last of the light played over the landscape in front of us - the purple Sawtooths our last sight before we dozed off to sleep - our second day of the IDBDR now in the books, an extra day added by our off-route exploration.

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Thank you for the reminder that, whilst this country isn't as old as some, she still has more than enough history to keep me busy. As long as I am willing to go looking for it!

 

Banner.

I am boldly going to say you were to drive through Banner and not Bannock.

 

Thanks man, appreciate it.

You sir, are correct. Updated.

 

IDBDR Pt. 4 - We're Recognized on the Trail
July 20, 2019.

Hard at work as we slept, the fire fighters working on the Vader fire had it contained - as far as we could tell given the complete lack of rising smoke - by the time my alarm went off at 4:00am. As fires go, it hadn't been a huge, but at 443 acres, it had taken a crew of two Type 6 Engines, one Type 4 Engine, one Type II Initial Attack Fire Crew, a plane load of smokejumpers, two Type I Helicopters, four Type III Helicopters, an air‐attack, two Interagency Hotshot crews, and 2 dozers to rein it in. All that was left now was a blanket of smoke in the valley below.

Thanks all!

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As the sun rose, we didn't - opting, for a while at least - to enjoy its warmth streaming in through the tent door. Still, we knew we had a lot of ground to cover - we'd only completed about 40% of the second stage of the IDBDR the day before, and we had a 20+ mile detour to get back on track due to the closure of FS-385. So, by 7:30am or so, we climbed down the ladder to another beautiful morning and another round of juicy, home-grown blueberries for breakfast.

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Soon enough, the tent was stowed and we were on our way - Jackson Peak now in our rear view mirrors, the Tacoma making quick work of the dirt roads back to Highway 21. Having found a turn-off less than five miles up the road that seemed to bypass the closure, we didn't spend long on pavement - something that I'm sure other travelers appreciated.

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Back on dirt, we climbed up onto the ridgeline above Banner before starting our descent east of Lowman. It was a twisty, fun section of the route - one that reaffirmed our decision to find our way back as quickly as possible instead of simply following Highway 21 (also beautiful) straight into Lowman.

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As we wound our way down the mountain, we were descending into the smoke we'd seen from our vantage point atop Jackson Peak - high above the inversion zone we now found ourselves driving through.

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Below us, the Payette River - snaking its way through the valley, marking the point at which we'd come out of the mountains.

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Even taking the scenic route, we continued to make good time - in general, the roads on the IBDR are in reasonably good shape. Comparable to (perhaps slightly worse than) what we experienced on the WABDR, and much better than the bone-rattling rockiness of the OBDR. Before long, we found ourselves out of the woods - much of it burnt - and just east of Lowman, where we'd be stopping for fuel.

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It was here that we came across a reasonably informative USFS information station that used a single graphic to explain what we were seeing around us - namely, charred trees and a general lack of forest. What we were seeing was nature doing it's best to recover from the 1989 Lowman fire, which burned 72 square miles of forest - an area larger than the Boise metropolitan area. Over the month that it took to contain the blaze, and despite the efforts of more than 2,300 firefighters, 26 structures in the community of Lowman were destroyed.

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Of course, it didn't have to happen this way.

Making seemingly slower progress on pavement than dirt - it's amazing how sluggish the truck feels when aired down on the highway - we tootled our way along until we reached Lowman and our pit stop for gas. While filling up, I had a chat with the station owner about the next leg of our journey. See, the BDR website had a warning for a water crossing in this section, saying that it was "dangerous" with "water levels so high." So, I asked if he knew the roads in the area and was familiar with this crossing they were talking about.

"You'll be just fine." He chuckled, "But you're wasting your time. That's an old logging road that they should really just take out - the new road they put in is a lot quicker."

I laughed and thanked him for the info - we were of course going the "waste of time" way. And can I just say how much I appreciate the little middle-of-nowhere stations like the Lowman Hitching Post that still let you pump your gas before going inside to pay. Without requiring multiple trips to first leave a credit card or the SSN of your first born child. Assuming the best in people, rather than the worst. It's refreshing.

Still only mid-morning, we began the climb out of Lowman on FS-582. Once again through forest burned some 30 years ago, it was hard to argue that there's something to be said for the views afforded by such a landscape.

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And it wasn't just the distant vistas that we enjoyed. @mrs.turbodb also enjoyed a nap or two, my frequent photo stops to capture the wildflowers that were in full bloom at these elevations, interrupting her slumber.

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And then, as we descended towards a water-crossing that we were both looking forward to - a bit of excitement! There, across the road - a fallen tree. An old burn, this one quite clearly came down as a result of an unstable base and perhaps just the right gust of wind - it had blocked just enough of the road that ATVs and motorcycles could get by, but trucks were a no-go.

A smile on my face, I looked at @mrs.turbodb and said, "Time for the chainsaw, grab the camera!"

Now, she'll be the first to tell you that chainsaws are just as likely to get you into trouble as they are to get you out of it - in fact, she calls them "hubris wands" for that very reason. But, she obliged my childish request and before long, I was sweaty and we were ready to go.

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In no time flat, we'd reached the water crossing. And, while I guess it was technically a water crossing, to suggest that it was any kind of trouble - much less the kind that deserved a skull and crossbones on the map - was pushing it.

For good measure, we went through three times. You know, just to make sure we didn't miss anything.

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From there, we had a decision to make - west was back onto the route, where we were still a good half-day behind schedule; east would take us to Whitehawk Fire Lookout - where we could enjoy lunch, hopefully with an amazing view. It wasn't a hard decision really - even running behind schedule, it's not like we had anywhere to be - so we headed east.

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Perhaps predictably - given our previous two lookout experiences - we got within a mile or so of our destination only to run into a locked gate. We joked that they were embarrassed - all these "failed" lookouts, surrounded by burned forest, closed off from prying eyes.

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Not that we couldn't have just hiked that last mile...

But, with the outside temps now in the mid 90°F's, we opted for the relatively cool breeze from the truck travelling at 30mph, and made a quick u-turn to head back the way we'd come - now on the lookout for a shady spot among the burnt forest to make and eat lunch.

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It took a good 45 minutes or so - our stomachs getting hungrier and hungrier - before we finally found a suitable spot to enjoy sandwhiches that @mrs.turbodb whipped up on the tailgate. Sure, we were only sort-of-out-of-the-middle-of-the-road, but were we really going to run into anyone out here in the middle of nowhere?

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Bellies full, we weren't back in the truck for more than 15 minutes when we pulled over for an oncoming motorcycle. Good timing to be back on the move it seemed! As the motorcycle squeezed by us, we noticed a 3rd gen 4Runner a little ways back. He'd seen us as well and had pulled over in a spot where more than just a skinny bike could fit by. We rolled up slowly to say hi and thanks, and just as we were about to continue on our way, I noticed brake lights and the drivers door open in my side view mirror.

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Walking over, driver of the 4Runner said, "Hey, are you turbo?"

You can imagine our surprise. Even now, I'm a bit incredulous. Turns out, it was Durwin @owyheerat and his buddy - out enjoying the area - making their way home from Deadwood Reservoir. We chatted for a few minutes, smiles all around and curious what we were each doing out and about, before wishing each other well and continuing on our way - such an awesome world!

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Winding our way down the mountain, we retraced Durwin's steps towards Deadwood Reservoir, hoping for a spectacular view from high above - something we hadn't seen a couple weeks earlier when we'd visited this same area via an alternate route.

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Unfortunately - despite a few promising looking opportunities on the map - there always seemed to be a low mountain range between us and the water, and soon we were back on the highway-like FS-555 road, speeding along next to the lake, doing our best to remove ourselves from what we'd termed "Crowdaho" a few weeks earlier and which had only seemed to get more populated.

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From Deadwood Reservoir, our next destination was Yellow Pine - a little town that marked the end of the stage we'd started two days earlier - still some 55 miles away! Luckily for us, the roads were in good shape, and it was beautiful country, even if we'd missed the height of spring - the last of the wildflowers now blooming on the edges of Tyndall Meadows.

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As the miles ticked away, we found ourselves climbing again - more gradually than we had earlier in the day - once again up near 7000', the elevation giving us at least a little relief from the afternoon heat. And, for what felt like one of the first times on the trip, we found ourselves in a forest of green!

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Just outside Yellow Pine, we made a quick stop for a Pioneer Cemetery - expecting to see the resting place of some of the good folks - or rather, people of the same era - that @mrs.turbodb had been reading to us about in her books on the early days of Idaho exploration. Turns out, the graves (and memorials) we found were actually rather new - the oldest we could find being 1954.

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As such, we didn't linger. Yellow Pine was now less than a mile away, and we knew that we needed to make some reasonable forward progress even beyond this little town, if we were going to maintain any semblance of our schedule. As we pulled into town, it was exactly what we expected - a small place with it's residents milling about on main street. Cute, and laid back.

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In search of fuel, we finally found it on our second pass through town - in an above-ground tank, with a hand-made sign indicating it's price. Clearly, it was laced with gold.

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At $6.00 for every gallon, I looked over at @mrs.turbodb and asked, "How far is it to our next fuel stop?" Having paid what I thought was a lot in Jarbridge, this was even more costly than fuel in Death Valley - so if we could avoid it, I thought we should - especially since this time we were looking at 10-12 gallons to get the tank back up to full.

And so it was - with 205 miles to the end of the next stage - that we headed out of Yellow Pine, our estimate that we had 110 miles of fuel left in the tank, and another 150 or so in the jerry cans. Only time would tell if we were genius or ignoramus.

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As was quickly becoming a trend, we found ourselves winding our way up into the mountains - as though the planners of the IDBDR had decided that the point of this route would be to climb and descend every range they could find. It was, as we remarked to ourselves - just perfect when you're low on gas!

We didn't make many stops along the way - our primary goal now, to get some miles behind us on stage 3. We did however make a quick stop in the town of Big Creek to snap a shot of their cool old fire engine, still apparently in service!

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And then, we continued up. And up and up and up. I could almost feel the truck getting lighter as the fuel needle entered a state that I can only call free-fall. I hoped we hadn't made the wrong decision. But, I told myself, this is exactly why we carry 10 gallons of spare fuel - if you're never going to use it, there's no point in bringing it.

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Eventually, we found ourselves 8670' above sea level at Elk Summit. It was much cooler here - and windy. We'd hoped to find a nice spot to camp up here in the sky, but with snow on the ground, and unsure what traffic would be like in this area (since we'd be camped right next to the road), we decided to push forward even further, hoping to find something a little more out of the way down the north side of the mountain.

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Heading down, we shed elevation just as quickly as we'd gained it going up. Of course, given how our Tacoma's work, it didn't make me feel any better about our fuel situation - since when the truck is pitched forward, the floats in the tank read a lower amount of fuel. It's all just an illusion I kept telling myself, doing my best to enjoy the scenery - complete with nature's snow cones - as we descended into the valley, the evening sun casting warm light on the hillsides all around.

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As we neared the bottom, we stopped - for what turned out to be our last time before finding camp - at the Elk Creek Cemetery. Unlike what we'd found in Yellow Pine, this was a true Pioneer Cemetery - it's permanent residents all taking up residence in the late 1800's, each one with a colorful story.

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Nearly 8:30pm, we were now on the serious hunt for a place to call home for the night. We tried a few little pull-outs, not caring about their distance to the road, but still deciding against the first couple given the tall grass and pitched ground. Eventually though, we pulled up on a perfect little remote campground on the South Fork of the Salmon River and knew this was just the place for us.

I got the tent setup while @mrs.turbodb prepped a delicious rotisserie chicken and home-grown green beans, which we enjoyed by the river as it rushed by.

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It was here too that we met - for the first time - another set of motorcycle riders that we'd play leapfrog with for the next several days. They weren't running the IDBDR, but were overlapping the part of it that we happened to be on, as they explored some of the backcountry of Idaho that we'd explored just a few weeks earlier!

And so it was that as the sun set on another day that we climbed into the tent. Not yet back on schedule, but having made up at least a bit of time on the route. Knowing that the next day would be an interesting one - where we'd either be proven genius, or find ourselves walking the last several miles to Elk City get fuel!

 

Did you do it again? The map in this post shows Banner.

 

You get that I write the whole story before I post any of them, yeah? Updated this one now too. Glad the typo is the thing that registered for you.