No pics until tomorrow. I have a lot of great pics, and am too tired to edit them.
I woke up this morning in the Stanley Basin, surrounded by the Sawtooths and other mountains, and it was the classic romantic western scene---the smell of sage and hay, cattle in the distance, and a clear cool morning. I ate, and while packing up, one of the neighboring campers, a 65 year old gentleman from near Twin Falls, came over to inquire about my trip (note to non-Idahoans, Twin Falls means Mormon). He was a really nice guy (in contrast to his brother, who had completely smoked me out of my tent with a prohibited fire the night before) and I wondered if he weren't coming over by way of apologizing for his brother's behavior.
He was showing his three young grandchildren (all under 9) from Florida around the mountains, and it was proving to be a bit of a challenge. They refused to believe it would get cold in the tent (it was on the low 40s last night), and they woke him up in the middle of the night because they hadn't used their blankets. He was a very patient and cool grandfather, just 65, and said that he'd always wanted to do a big bicycle trip. He was full of questions as I packed and put everything together on the bike, and I could tell he wanted to keep talking even though I was pushing for an 8 AM departure, so that I could beat some heat today.
As I rode off, a little way down the road, a small herd of antelope appeared. The nice thing about antelope is that they're curious, and like to check you out. Clearly they were wondering what kind of creature spins along on two wheels, and it was fun to watch them as they loped along in my direction. It reminded me of a time back in '78 when I was hitching from the Black Hills down to Colorado, and got stuck just outside Newcastle Wyoming at dusk. Then a small herd of antelope came up to the fence and just peered at me for some minutes, while I sat on my backpack, hoping for some traffic.
It was a quick 25 miles ride down gentle grades to Stanley, and it was fun to watch the Salmon River go from a tiny brook to a big river, as it picked up the waters of its tributaries. In Stanley I had an exceptionally good omelette and fried potatoes and then picked up some fruit and a sandwich, and decided to try for the 59 miles to Challis, and see how far I got.
The view from Stanley
The valley and canyon of the Salmon is one of the most beautiful bike rides I've done. It just flew by, and I kept thinking of those crazy Salmon who travel 900 miles upriver, and almost 7000 feet of elevation to spawn in these parts. While the numbers are a tiny fraction of the past, they are increasing, due to the opening of a hatchery which only breeds the local salmon (apparently the sockeye that spawn in the lakes are a special genetic stock, and if your released some other salmon, they wouldn't swim back to the alpine lakes). They travel 12-14 miles a day upriver, so it's a journey of at least 2-3 months. They will reappear in these parts later in July and into August.
After the canyon narrows a lot near the old Sunbeam (the former site of the ONLY dam to ever stop the flow of the Salmon River), it opens up into the most amazing desert landscape. It looks like western Nevada, except that the river is huge and full of water. It started to get hot, but the cycling was easy, and the last ten miles down the canyon I had a strong headwind, which was like being in a convection oven. The last 20 miles or so I drank four water bottles! Then it was a 3 mile climb into Challis, a former mining and mining supply center.
The desert Salmon River
The morning was the quintessential movie of the Great American West. That one we grew up on. The mythological one that ignored the genocide of American Indians, the poor treatment of women and minorities, the spread of disease, the dishonoring of treaties. I could hear the grand music from movie scores and I found myself back as a kid, the first time we went west and I wore a cowboy hat.
Howdy pardner---1968
Given the importance of the western mythology in my own life, I've been thinking a lot about why I never see 20 somethings in all these small western towns I've been passing through. Took a quick look at some census data, and it turns out their numbers have been falling for the last 20 years. It appears that Generations X and Y are just not interested in the Romance of the West. Why not? I have a couple of theories (which my American historian friends are welcome to ponder and comment on).
The generations after the baby boomers didn't grow up on steady diet of movie and TV westerns, so they don't have any connection to the mythology. Hence, they don't dream of living the life of a cowboy or rancher.
The baby boomers were altogether too attached to the romantic west, along with their parents, because it was a reaction to the horrors and pressures of modernism. For the greatest generation, the idea of being in a sanitized, romantic, western environment helped wash away the dual traumas of the depression and the war. For the boomers, it was a way to 'go back to the land' and reject the suburbanization and decay of the cities that happened in our youth. The younger generations are more interested in congregating in cities (even cities like Boise are full of 20 somethings) and being plugged into the exciting changes that are being wrought around the world, so the idea of living in some small western town just has no appeal in their world.
I don't think this bodes well for many of the communities that I've passed through, nor for some of the more destination resort places. They seem destined to become retirement communities for boomers, and as the boomers die off, it's not clear from where the replacements come. Some of the larger destination resorts like Aspen, Vail and Sun Valley will continue to draw plenty of tourists, but the labor force will become increasingly non white (and our immigrants have no romantic attachment to the western myth), and will magnify the social pressures that are already a problem in these affluent communities. They clearly will continue to exist in place, but probably not experience much more growth.
But the smaller towns, like Challis, Stanley, Burns, Lakeview and Alturas, which also saw an influx of younger folks in the 70s and 80s, will have to find a way to reinvent themselves without relying on selling the myth.
Speaking of westerns, you are approaching the locale of one of my favorite movies, " Rancho Deluxe", a contemporary take on the West ,if there ever was one.
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