In Memory of Warmer Summers

Lowell, ID to White Bird, ID

Rude horn honks: 2

Miles: 71

Total so far: 3,965

Looking almost one mile down into the Salmon River Valley from on top of White Bird Hill

I stopped and took this picture on July 2nd in Montana, and I’ve been contemplating what it means to me for some time:

A fork in the road?

The purpose of the sign is not quite clear, but this was seen at a fork in a road, the right side went off in the direction of one of those nice decorative ranch entryways.  The left side of the fork went towards an uninviting fenced gate that was plastered with no trespassing, no hunting, no fishing, go away signs.  Someone clearly has a sense of humor about the subject, and I admire that.  I suspect the “no trespassing” individual may not be as mean as he/she seems and this could be proof.

Signs are free to interpret as we may however and I’ve spent a lot of time on this one.  Am I to believe that life is a choice between Camelot (where the rains come only after sundown) and certain death?  I think not.  But there are risks, aren’t there?

This ride is risky.  I make fun of the rude horn honking and the “brush-back passing” that goes on, but there is real danger in riding these canyons and roads with no shoulder, trusting in my fellow motorists not to make me a hood ornament.

Risky.  Yes.

This ride has rewards.  If I’ve communicated anything at all in this journal, I hope I’ve communicated the sense that I am in the process of sorting out my thoughts, my emotions, and perhaps coming to some conclusions regarding what to do with my passions, my heartaches, the memories, and all that accumulated baggage that’s been kept up in the attic for too long.

Most of all, I hope that I’ve been able to touch the hearts of those who know the losses.  That’s not easy to do, so I’ve used this journey to speak to you.

Rewards.  Yes.

There is a comment submitted by a man who suggests that his heart aches for me to the point that he has considered it may be better not to have a child than to experience what I have in the loss of Carlie.  Let me pause on that one.  Perhaps like me, he grew up doing drills where we hid under our desks at school in the event of a nuclear attack.  Think about how that might affect one’s desire to bring a child into the world.  I cannot say I was immune to thoughts of this.

Bringing a child into this world is risky.  No question.  Among the blessings I’ve had, all things compared, all things are shaded grey in comparison to the technicolor thrill of helping a life into this world, leading a child into the experience we know in ours.  Prior to Carlie’s birth I thought I knew something of love.  No… I found love in the perfection of her little hand.  I found love in my heart that was but waiting.  This is truly life’s greatest blessing.  The gentleman who commented knows this.  He has a four year old.  That’s why his heart aches for me.  I understand that, but know that I will go to the end of this life eternally grateful for what I had, what I learned, and even though our time was short, it was the best of my life.

Rewards.  Yes.

I experienced Camelot.  That lives in my heart forever.  I took the risk and I am eternally blessed because of her.

As we emerge from the miles of the Clearwater National Forest, the countryside opens up some

For awhile today, we turned south and traced to South Fork of the Clearwater River

We took a breathtaking descent into the Salmon River Valley on the White Bird switchbacks

At the bottom of the canyon, this span for US 95 rises above

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Tomorrow’s ride is dedicated to Gary Stella

Gary Stella

Gary Stella, from Kenosha, Wisconsin was in a collsion with a drunk driver on Speptember 21, 1979, at the age of sixteen.  Gary survived the collision with severe spinal injuries.