Idaho

As with Montana and Wyoming we didn’t have any guide books for Idaho and couldn’t find any at all in the bookshops. Heading to the north of Idaho having looked up some info on the region we made our way through the towns of Whitefish (MT), Bonners Ferry (ID), Libby(ID), Sandpoint (ID), Couer D’Alene (ID) and back into MT again to visit Missoula; all nice small towns of the resort variety each with their own top notch coffee shops and microbreweries but each lacking anything really spectacular.

In the last of these, Missoula, we stumbled upon a community event where a student band butchered their way through some American folk classics whilst a PA system honked the So-Cal voice of an announcer commentating on a surf competition happening in the river. In memory of a local world class kayaker the town had built an artificial reef in the river creating a wave which could be surfed and kayaked as long as there wasn’t ice present. We watched the competition unfold, not really understanding the criteria for success other than not falling off, as the sun set and the mosquitos swarmed, as the children did handstands and the obese locals perused the food stalls, all to the backing track of Willie Nelson in a tumble dryer.

En route to Idaho Falls and the beer festival (I had now convinced Emma we should go) we stopped just outside the unassuming town of Salmon to visit a natural wonder Emma had heard of months ago when researching Idaho. Goldbug hot springs are a two and a half mile trek up a steep mountain ravine. As we followed the raging river to its source we passed through dense thickets of pine and scrub until an hour later we arrived at a wide collection of semi-natural pools embedded into the rock. The cold water river continued to rage through the centre but all around it hot steamy streams poured out of slime covered rocks and into channels and ponds made deeper by previous visitors who piled stones and re-routed flows. We passed a couple of people on their way back down and when we arrived there was only one other couple there enjoying the spring. We stripped off into our bathing suits and slid into the gloriously hot water. A bath is a delight when you are on the road, hell a shower is a delight when you are on the road; a bath is a real treat. When you have just hiked up a steep ravine for an hour a bath is as heavenly as it is exotic. We slopped around like basking seals for a good few hours enjoying the stunning views and waiting for the clouds above to open up, though they never did. Walking down was hard with hot legs of jelly but the whole experience was incredible and a highlight of Idaho.

After the serenity of Goldbug, Idaho Falls was always going to be a shock to the system. The beer fest had sold out of pre-order tickets so we had to queue for a good hour and a half and pay a hefty door fee of $36 per person to get in. Fortunately I figured out that you could pay $6 to enter as a designated driver so Emma paid $6 and drank beer from my glass. Beer festivals in the UK are usually fairly cultured affairs where the beer is the star of the show and the people are fans of quality product. I think it was somewhere between dancing to dub-step and watching fat girls flash their tits from atop a Budweiser van that I realised this probably wasn’t the case here. Due to the queue and such I calculated that I needed to drink a pint every half an hour to get my money’s worth which was a challenge over 3 hours and, as my belly filled with gas I realised I probably wasn’t going to make it. Still, I hunted out the Uinta stand and high fived a pleased-to-see-me Kurt whom I had met at the Jackson beer festival. “I told you to come and you came” were his smiling sentiments. We hung around the Uinta guys for the afternoon and in the evening, with Emma tucked up in  Walmart car park I made my way to downtown Idaho Falls to join them in their post beer fest celebrations. Here I spent the night talking culture and politics with a lovely chap called Rob who, as it turned out, had nothing to do with Uinta but was tagging along just like me. I notched him up on Facebook so as to have another American contact for later excursions in life and wobbled my way back to the van where I kept Emma awake recounting the tales of my evening. 

One of these tales involved us being invited back to Salt Lake City to visit the Uinta brewery on a personal tour. I never thought we’d go back to SLC but this offer was too good to pass up and as Kurt guided us around his workplace for the afternoon, beers in hand, I was ecstatic that we had chosen to come back. Breweries here are founded on principles of good beer and good times. They work hard to create commercial products but they also work hard to maintain an environment that people want to work in and the people at Uinta were certainly happy with their jobs, and why wouldn’t they be – they are surrounded by beer. After an inspiring afternoon which both Emma and I loved we were kindly invited to spend the night at Kurt’s place. As we rolled up outside his house and his wife opened the door, baby in arms, I got the distinct impression she had found out about our arrival only moments before. Nonetheless she welcomed us dearly and we spent a lovely evening chatting to Kurt and Gwennie about their work as snowboard instructors before Kurt’s move into brewing. As we lay our heads in their spare bedroom the thought couldn’t escape us that we were sleeping in a stranger’s basement as I am sure the thought couldn’t escape our hosts that some foreigners were occupying the lower floor of their house. We awoke to find a naked little boy running around the living room. Nev, Kurt’s son prefers life without pants and didn’t care who knew it. We finished our breakfast of eggs, ham and toast before setting off on the long journey across-country back to Oregon to fulfill Emma’s wish to see Crater Lake – something we were unable to do on our way down due to snow.