September 22: Swoop, swoop, swoop.

I love Lolo Pass. I’ve only driven over it once before, but I just love the lazy, sweeping curves along the river on the Idaho side. Hence the swooping [g].

I headed west then south into what passes for Missoula, Montana’s morning rush hour, then west again up the thirty or so miles to the top of Lolo Pass. This is where Lewis and Clark finally made it over the Rockies back in 1804. It’s also where the Nez Perce fled across the mountains in the other direction on their way to Yellowstone to encounter the tourists before they (the Nez Perce) almost made it to Canada. So, a lot of history here, and a nice visitor center staffed by a fellow who apparently didn’t have enough tourists to talk to, because he all but followed me into the exhibit room and kept talking when all I really wanted to do was look at the exhibits. Oh, well. I know I’ve done more than my share of talking the ears off of people when I’ve been on my own for too long, too.

On the way up to Lolo Pass.

The foliage over the pass was really gorgeous, in spite of the gray, spitting skies.

More foliage, along Lolo Creek.

See? Snowberries are *white*!

Lolo Pass, elevation 5225 feet.

The road down the west side of the pass into Idaho (the border between Idaho and Montana runs along the ridge line, and so does the line between Mountain and Pacific time) swoops down next to the Clearwater River through a deep canyon, curving gently back and forth and back and forth, for almost a hundred miles. It’s just so much fun to drive, almost like some sort of carnival ride or something. I’m not doing it justice at all, but that’s life.

The Clearwater River on the Idaho side of the pass.

Coming down the Idaho side.

About seventy miles on from the pass, I stopped in the tiny hamlet of Lowell, Idaho, for lunch in a cute little café. Those were the first buildings I saw after the border, so this is seriously wild country.

When the canyon finally opens out, it’s into a lot of warm brown hills (at least they’re brown this time of year) and then out into what I thought would be the southeastern edge of the Palouse, but the road cuts show basalt, not deep soil, so no, not Palouse.

Brown hills on the Nez Perce Reservation.

The Snake River, which originates in Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming.

I crossed a big chunk of the Nez Perce Indian Reservation to get to the Washington state line, then stopped for the night in the town of Clarkston, which is directly across the Snake River from the Idaho town of Lewiston. Gee, I wonder where those names came from [g].

Tomorrow night I’ll be back in Tacoma. Sigh.

Home again. Sort of. Still have most of the state to cross.

Mirrored from M.M. Justus -- adventures in the supernatural Old West.

September 23: Home again, home again, jiggety jog.

One seven-hour drive later, and I’m home. Well, staying with my friend Loralee until I find a place to move into, but you know what I mean.

Across southern Washington, through more brown hills to the Tri-Cities, where I picked up I-82 to Yakima, where I turned west on U.S. 12, over White Pass to the little town of Morton, where I turned north on U.S. 7, which eventually turns into the Mountain Highway, which leads to Tacoma.

The sleek hills of southeastern Washington, and the Snake River.

Hayfields in southeastern Washington.

I *think* this adorable little courthouse is in Pomeroy, Washington, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

Orchards near Yakima.

Heading west from Yakima on U.S. 12 — I drove this road in the other direction on my second day on the road.

The west side of the mountains — can you tell from the weather? [wry g]

15,500 miles in almost four months (it would have been four months exactly next Tuesday). Which I’d have thought have been farther, given that in 1999, I was only gone two and a half months, and racked up 14,000 miles before I rolled my car in California. But that’s what Merlin’s odometer says, and I believe it [g].

Part of me is glad to be here, I think. Part of me wishes I just could have kept going, but well…

Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through all this! It’s been fun writing the posts, and I’m looking forward to the next time I get to hit the road.

Mirrored from M.M. Justus -- adventures in the supernatural Old West.