But this year is different. A ridge of high pressure has clamped over the region and we have had cold sunny days for endless weeks. If you are brave enough, you can go anywhere. Even fifteen miles of hairpins, winding down to where the icy Imnaha heads towards the Snake.
|Eureka Bar. No, it's not a beach. It's a bar.|
I've been to Eureka Bar, the confluence of the two rivers, many times before, but never in deep winter, with nobody around, the blackberry dying back, the silence of a place abandoned. An inversion blocked out the sun, and it felt like I was the only person left in the world.
I scored the good campsite under the lone tree, which is hardly ever available in spring. I had never noticed before, but there's a spooky mine tunnel behind it:
|Darn, a gate. Can't go in any farther. BOOOO.|
I could easily have not gone. The long drive, having to make up some work hours later, the cold weather. The short hike--barely five miles. The long darkness. But I've decided--this will be the year of little adventures. Excuses begone!
|View from the campsite|