Sunday drives 2007

Last night started the new season for Fox Network's thriller "24." And, "American Idol" starts tomorrow night on Fox at 8 p.m. Yes, I intend to be just as foolishly engrossed in the talent show as I've been the past three or four years. I still have no good explanation for why I'm a diehard American Idol fan, but that obsession will continue for another year.

Another yearly addiction, introduced to us by our dad when we were pre-teens, got its 2007 start yesterday. As soon as Da Bears wiped away the Seahawks' chance of playing in another Super Bowl, Bill, Kiwi and I moved to the car and headed toward Bonners Ferry on our first Sunday drive of the new year. Actually, the event marked the first time in months, we've gone anywhere for a relaxing outing. It was good medicine.

After standing with front feet on the console and nuzzling each of us a couple of times, Kiwi retired to the back seat for a long winter's nap. Bill and I remained pretty quiet and listened to National Public Radio for most of the trip as we drove through Bonners Ferry, north toward the Canadian border and then turned off the highway at Copeland, which is on the east side of the massive Kootenai Valley.

Bill occasionally pointed to a mountain peak he had climbed in the Selkirk Range to the west, as well as Long Canyon and the Smith Creek drainage. In the meantime, I sat with my digital camera in hand, waiting for the perfect picture to emerge around each new bend in the road along the valley where lots of old time Boundary County farmers have raised hay and grain for decades. The cold outside kept me critical enough about selections to avoid asking Bill to stop for me to snap a photo. In fact, the camera had an easy afternoon of simply resting on my lap.

I was struck by the views of cold silence all over the valley. Vast expanses of white fields extended toward deep blue mountains, which had lost any warmth cast from a morning sun. As we passed through, the late afternoon sun now behind the mountains formed a golden radiance just above their peaks.

To the east, remaining rays of that sun created perfect lighting for upcoming scenes waiting my photographic approval. Somehow, it seemed best to leave them, though, in their frigid January moments. Better just to remember them in my mind as I sat beneath the comfort of a fleece blanket draped over my legs. So, I did.

We passed a mail box with a rusty antique wheel serving as part of its stand. I admired an old boxcar sitting on a hillside just past a series of grain elevators at the Houck place. The '30s vintage truck retired to a permanent spot on another hillside tempted me to interrupt our own silence and grab a shot. That would make a dynamite photo, I thought, but the inspiration passed quickly.

It was best to enjoy the warmth, relax and just take in the scenery. There would be other days when getting out of the car would be much more inviting than this day when the temperature at the time might have reached to ten degrees in that valley. So, as we passed huge the Budweiser hops farm and turned right at the border town of Porthill, I just gazed away at the beauty and thought of photos that might have been.

We traveled the Porthill loop, which passes through several small farms in a valley below Hall Mountain. The road eventually took us back to the main highway, where while driving south, we continued a necessary ritual for all Sunday drives---we counted about five deer in two different fields.

Later, I asked if we could stop for a potty break at the Three Mile store. So, we stocked up on a some treats and then drove directly west of the highway through Mennonite farm country. We passed a big dairy farm with dozens of manure-encrusted Holstein feeder steers gathered around their feed racks. Toward the barn, the herd of milk cows waited for their evening ritual. Dairies in North Idaho have become a rare sight these days.

In that same vicinity, Bill pointed out the honey-bucket place where he orders outdoor johns for forest fire crews. He says a Mennonite lady runs the operation, including the deliveries. Apparently, they've combined the honey bucket business with a big herd of well-fed beef cattle. Diversification, for sure.

We stopped at the Boundary Trading Co. market and stocked up on groceries, including two boxes of those inexpensively-priced, but yummy cinnamon rolls. One box was designated for Bill, while the other would be dropped off to my mother who loves those rolls. On to Colburn, we thought. Our journey southward had a couple of abrupt stops though.

First, there were the elk. I spotted them in a field to our right, even though it was nearly dark. I could seen at least 20 youngsters and mature elk in various clumps. Some were gathered around a stack of round hay bales while the rest were hanging back near the trees about 200 yards off the highway.

Bill found a place to turn around, and we drove back to the field to get a better view. As we pulled off the highway in the driveway north of the field, the elk decided that view for us was as good as it was gonna get. Those standing around the hay pile began to lope off across the field, the young ones playing along the way.

Back on the highway, Bill told me about the herd, which moves between Dodge Peak in the Pack River drainage and Upper Grouse Creek to the east of the highway. He says he's seen them a few times while driving Hwy 95.

As he continued talking about the elk, we came upon more animals. By this time, it was dark, and this time, the animals were on the highway's edge. At first, we thought it was a person walking down the shoulder, but as we got closer and the animals began veering into our lane, we could see a mule and a horse.

The car in front of us stopped, and so did we. Oncoming traffic continued north, and we could see the lights of a big semi about half a mile behind us. The two escapees were getting flustered by this point, and the lady in the other car was trying to calm them as cars continued to proceed northward in the other lane.

Fortunately, I had two dog leashes in the car. I met up with the mule and the lady who was holding his nose while calming him. We put together a makeshift halter on the nervous mule and led him to his home, which was just north of where we'd stopped.

The big strawberry roan's name was Jack; his buddy's name, we learned later, was Roy. Roy had already decided that the better part of escaping was to hoof it back home. So, he arrived ahead of us and stood waiting in the driveway for Jack. Lois, the owner, told us that a moose had destroyed the fence, which usually keeps Jack and Roy down on the farm.

Once they were secure in their barn area, we said good bye to Lois and proceeded on to Colburn where we dropped off cinnamon rolls to Mother. On her TV, the final score for another NFL playoff indicated New England had beaten San Diego. Bill was disappointed to learn the news because he'd been pulling for Seattle, San Diego and his beloved Saints.

Next week, we may not go for a Sunday drive, because my Louisiana man has but one team left in this pursuit to the big game, and it's mighty important for him to see those Saints take care of Da Bears and make it to the Super Bowl.

In the meantime, Sunday Drives 2007 have begun, and I don't think I even needed the camera to keep the highlights permanently etched in my mind.

Another Zags game tonight: GO ZAGS !!!