A Full Day in God's Country

A couple of times yesterday, I mentioned that because of all the community events, this particular weekend could possibly see the biggest influx of people ever in the history of Sandpoint.  

Maybe during World War II when Farragut Naval Training Station was at its height, the numbers coming to town could have rivaled this weekend's, but I doubt it. 

It would be pretty hard to take in all the activities on the weekend smorgasboard of gatherings, so my day included the Celebrate Life Fun/Run Walk where the opportunity to visit with old friends and former students right next to the shores of Lake Pend Oreille made the minutes click by quickly. 

Once again, it was a great event, this year enhanced on the emotional scale by carefully placed signs along the bike path bringing a tear or two to many of us who saw names of loved ones affected by cancer and no longer with us.  The scene was moving, to say the least. 

After Celebrate Life, I pedaled my bike to the beach for the Arts and Crafts Festival but turned around, deciding that this event needed at least a couple of hours and those hours could happen today when Bill and I head down to help with the takedown process when the Festival ends. 

So,  a few minutes back at home, and Bill and I were off again to our own event, a hike up the Strawberry Mountain Trail.  We had the time, and everyone else was busy, so it seemed like a perfect day to carry out the goal of standing atop that mountain northeast of Sandpoint in the Cabinet Mountains and accessed by Trail 355 off from Grouse Creek Road. 

The hike involves crossing Grouse Creek and climbing up a narrow, rocky incline to an old railroad grade.  We had done part of that a couple of weeks ago on a wet evening before darkness sent us back to the truck. 

Yesterday we followed the same route and enjoyed walking the railroad bed through shaded, open forest with remnants of a fire which burned nearly 100 years ago.  

Then, we climbed and climbed and climbed.  For a while, I wondered if our adventure would turn into disappointment because as we climbed, the trees kept blocking the views below.  

Finally, though, we came to the rocky outcrops where the view opened up into something beyond spectacular.  That's when Bill informed me that Strawberry Mountain has several false summits.  

In my mind, the first false summit was enough to satisfy my soul and to save wear and tear on the soles of my feet.  The legs and feet were getting tired by this time, but Bill kept trudging on.  I kept stopping to take pictures before trudging onward and wondering if my 68-year-old body was gonna suffer from all this.

The views, however, dulled the pain, and it was truly worth climbing to the top where we sat near what was left of an old lookout on Strawberry Mountain and looked off to the north at the plume of smoke coming from the Parker Ridge fire northwest of Bonners Ferry. 

At one time, while still heading toward the top and feeling pretty exhausted,  I said, "Now, if the helicopters would come and take us home, that would be nice."  

Sixty seconds later, we heard a helicopter and within minutes, it actually flew directly over us.  We waved, but it moved on, probably picking up someone with real problems. 

About 5:30, we began our descent from that mountain, both suffering from excruciating cramps in our legs.  Cramps or not, we had to get home, and we had four long miles to get to the pickup.

It was a slow descent with all the rocks and ruts, lurking on the narrow trail "to get us." Having accomplished my goal of standing atop Strawberry Mountain, my next goal was to reach the pickup standing up. 

It was achieved, but not without a lot of pain and wondering if I had it in me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

The adventure reminded me of a long hike Annie and I took in New Zealand, which, in comparison, did not offer the rewards we enjoyed yesterday (bad weather caused that). 

At one point on that hike when the wind was blowing sand at 40 mph, I really did consider how nice it would be to have a helicopter take me off that mountain, but Annie kept encouraging her mom, and, by golly, I made it. 

Same thing happened yesterday, and if I had to do it all over again, I'd take more water, and, as Bill said, we'd start earlier in the day.  We donned head lamps the last mile or so, which included our creek crossing.

When I saw the lights flashing on and off in the pickup, I rejoiced, and I was still standing. 

It was quite a day, which started with the event called Celebrate Life and ended with Bill and me, escaping the masses, heading to a pretty mountain, not seeing not one soul for eight hours and once more celebrating the wonderful life we live in this gorgeous land we like to call God's Country.  

Yup, it sure is God's Country, and as I end this morning's post, "Hallelujah, God's Country is getting a good, much needed soaking!"

Happy Sunday.