[NOTE: If there is a PhD level of WordPress blogging, I am struggling for my GED. This post is out of sequence. Sorry.]
July 10, 2018. From crappy place to Bussard Mountain
Not surprisingly, I did not feel too rested. I broke camp and dropped down to the valley. I was in a hurry and excited.
Ahead was the Feist Creek Falls Resort and Bar, an”on trail”restaurant.
I knew it wouldn’t open until noon as I walked up about 9:30. A nice lady tending the beautiful garden gave me permission to sit on the covered patio where I thankfully charged my electronics.
The place was beautiful. I could clearly see the bar, but the resort not so much. In the back of the restaurant/bar there is a legitimate waterfall. The bar is made of logs and has the required animal heads. In the front, there is a large covered porch with huge hanging flower baskets. The porch overlooks a trout pond, the Moiye River, and then Bussard Mountain. The trout are huge. There is a vending machine inside the bar to buy food to throw in the pond. I bet the fish enjoy bar patrons getting tipsy and buying fish food.
A bit after 10:00, the three hikers from London showed up. We talked trail and gear and FIFA world cup. Half an hour later, an employee let us in early and offered coffee. Ahead of schedule they opened the kitchen and I enjoyed a hamburger and fries.
My batteries were fully charged, but I needed to get some tap water. I filled up my two liter platypus bottle. (Platypus is a brand of refillable containers that are flexible and lightweight.) I packed up, said goodbye to the Londoners, and was on my way.
It had remained overcast in the 50s with no rain. Frankly, this was perfect for hiking. I went past a large, old mule operation on the floor of the valley. Another reminder of how times have changed. George Washington was a famous mule breeder and one could argue mules helped open the west. Now, Bussard Mountain Mules was downcast and overgrown. As an aside, I was not able to find out how Bussard was named and why the locals all pronounced it “buzzard.”
The climb up was easier than I expected. I had fewer stops and fewer still complaints. On the way up, my sixth sense kept bugging me with a feeling I had left something behind. I tried ignoring it as silly. After all, I had only unpacked my electronics and Platypus. Finally, my paranoia got the best of me, fearing I had left behind my charger. The good news was my electronics were intact. The bad news was my two liter water container was gone. Althoughed pissed, I was glad because I did have an extra one on hand. The only challenge was that I had very little water with me.
I was ahead of schedule knowing that my ride into Bonners Ferry would not be until late tomorrow afternoon. As a result I set up camp a bit early. I was right near the top of Bussard following an old mining road. Some hunters had already set up their camps along the way with cut and stacked firewood. That was tempting, but I found a natural niche in the thick shrubbery and pitched my tent, built a fire ring, and ate.
After dinner, I gathered firewood. Nearby, the mining road changed to my next trail. As I approached I saw a jumbled pile of boxes and plastic. Amazingly, it was boxed food grade five gallon plastic water containers. I figured the hunters wouldn’t stash water here far from their camps. It must be surplus water for trail crews. Thanking the trail gods, I helped myself.
Enjoying my little fire a bit later, I heard voices. I assumed it was the Brits. (Note: based on their homeland and the westward hike, I refer to them as One Direction.)
Instead, it was Steve and Zeke, just out for a lung-busting mountain bike ride. They must be in amazing shape. They were real helpful and had good local information, even confirming the water was excess forest service.
After they left, it began to drizzle a bit more, so I crawled into my tent and drifted off to a faint ping on my roof as it darkened.
backpacking over the hill 