Okay… no one has ever accused me of being very smart. Incredibly handsome, maybe… but not smart. So… we had this wonderful idea that the entire family should go on a “small hike” while camping.
Another rule of thumb #2 – when you are camping with Gheen and Beth, do not ever believe them when they calmly tell you that the hike they have planned is “very mellow” and Sam and Maggie will have no problem walking the entire way, because it is almost “level ground” especially top rather than being so steep that you have to climb hand over foot, in fact we are sure that at some point during the hike that magical fairies will swoop down and carry us all to the end on feather pillows.
Welcome, my friends, to Wind Cave in Darby, Idaho.
Total hiking length – 3 miles each way.
Total elevation gain – 2,000 feet.
Temperature outside – 135 degrees, at least.
Adults on the hike over age 70 – 2 (Grandma and Grandpa Harral are our heroes, even though they only made it half way).
Adults on the hike that have had both knees replaced – 1 (Grandma – aka Iron-Woman)
Children on the hike – 10 (have you ever heard the expression “It’s like herding cats).
Miles with Maggie on my back – 2 miles.
Miles with Sammy on my back – pretty much the rest of the way.
Miles that Mandee had to carry Maggie back down the hill because she was too freaking grumpy tired to continue – 2 miles.
Length of the hike that was “mellow” and “mostly level” – however long the walk from the parking lot to the trailhead was.
Awesome!
Here is the extreme adrenaline junkie hiking crew:
I spent most of the day like this:
Alex’s expression pretty much sums up how we felt most of the way.
The scenery was pretty amazing, I must admit.
Reluctantly, I must admit that despite some discomfort (by that I mean my extreme “out-of-shapeness”), the hike was amazing. I would definitely do it again. I was well worth the effort.
After accomplishing such a mammoth feat during the weekend, you would think that there would be no way that we could “take things up a notch”. Well… that is where you would be just incredibly wrong.
Huckleberry picking. Oh baby!
There are few words in the Eastern Idaho vocabulary that can cause such a thrill and such extreme violent tendencies as the gentle huckleberry. Little old ladies have been know to shank their little old lady neighbors with their knitting needles for having the gall to inquire if they could possibly tag along and share in a prized huckleberry picking spot. I can’t say that I blame them, though. The little old lady neighbor kind of had it coming. Go find your own dang berry patch!
Just so you know… my wife’s entire family displays these frighteningly violet mildly neurotic tendencies with the huckleberry picking as well. You might just want to steer clear of them during late August (or at least make sure that you are armed with your own knitting needles).
Well, it was just our extremely good fortune during the weekend family camping bonanza to find a very large (although not completely ripe) huckleberry patch. I could tell you where it was located… but now I have a gash on the side of my head (I love you, Mandee).
Sam has learned from his mother how to defend his spot.
At the end of it all, we worked for almost an hour with about 15 laborers and we had a very bounteous harvest (of approximately 2 cups of huckleberries). This has a street value of several hundred dollars.
All I can tell you is that the homemade huckleberry ice cream that we shared after we got home never tasted so good!
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