I could see the vehicle on the road, how far away I couldn’t tell. Running down the hill with a full pack wasn’t the best idea, but it was Bannock Pass. The town I was trying to get to was 14 miles away to the south on that dirt road, Idaho Hwy. 29. Leadore had my box at the post office and a possible room or at least a shower at the city park. I went for it. Flying down the hill over sagebrush and rocks, I gave it what I had.
I missed by two minutes. I was close enough to see and hear the truck clear the cattle guard. That was a big let down. I’d stopped for a break about three miles up trail, twelve miles into my morning push to get to Bannock, if only I hadn’t stopped I would have been on the road.
I’m writing this 45 minutes later and no vehicle from either direction has come through the pass. At Bannock Pass you can see no human structures. It’s in the middle of the middle of nowhere.
I can walk the 14 mile to Leadore, but I don’t want to and it blows the easy day out of the water. So for now I’m waiting and hoping to get lucky soon.
At 2:15 after being at the pass for almost three hours and not having a vehicle go past me in the right direction, I headed down the hill on foot. Big thunderheads were rollling in and it was time to get off the high spot.
Not a mile down the road a fracker coming back from North Dakota picked me up. I had my thumb out as he was going by, but when he wasn’t slowing down, I cupped my hands in a begging motion, and he pulled over. Took him a few minutes to sort out his stuff, so I could get in. But man was I grateful. He took me right to the PO in Leadore which luckily was open 15 minutes later than it’s closing time, so I got my mail drop.
I walked to the Leadore Inn and got the last available room. I was quickly embraced by Sam, the owner, and his friends on the porch. Multiple electrolyte beverages flowed my direction as we watched the vehicles and the clouds flow by.
All is good in the world.