hell's canyon

It drizzled steadily outside this morning as we enjoyed the delicious smell of soysauges and eggs frying on the stove in our little cabin. CNN blared on the television (we are suckers for 24-hour news channels) and the gas fireplace warmed the room as we packed the cooler and prepared our maps for the day ahead. Our plan was to head for Imnaha and then creep up a gravel road to Hat Point where we might catch panoramic vistas of the Snake River and Hell’s Canyon and maybe sneak in a hike along the ridge.

The rain let up as we rolled out of Joseph east towards Imnaha. At the recommendation of the fellow working the Joseph Chevron station, we stopped in at the tavern in Imnaha to inquire as to the condition of the road leading up to Hat Point. An old coot working the counter assured us the road was safe, excepting perhaps the first 5 miles which he promised were rather rough. And rough they were as our car hauled up the bumpy, rocky one-track winding road to the top of the ridge. We crawled 24 miles on gravel, although after the first 5 miles the travel eased a bit, winding through forests and along steep ledges overlooking the Imnaha Canyon to the West and Black and Bear Mountains to the south. Hat Point loomed ahead, shrouded in clouds. As we neared our destination it became clear that we were in for a serious disappointment. The watchtower situated atop the highest point was scarcely visible through the fog. We climbed the tower and peered out into the vast expanse of pure white, our rain jackets wrapped tight around our bodies to shield us from the whipping rain.


(the view from Hat Point)

We retreated to our car in grim defeat to peruse the maps and consider our options. We could wait around and hope for a clearing in the clouds, but time was short and we figured we would try our luck at another lookout about 35 miles to our south. So, we turned back and rumbled down the treacherous track to the valley, just as a thunderstorm roiled on the horizon. Lightening crashed round us and the rain came in sheets and I begged M to steer carefully as we wound our way off the mountain and back to level ground.

Back in Imnaha, we branched off onto yet another rough, stony road, this one taking us 30 miles or more south towards the alternate lookout. I grumbled and whined, never one for long car rides, I had not imagined spending day 2 in the Wallowa’s cooped up in the car. 30 miles is nothing on pavement, but on dirt it takes a good hour to navigate. Add to this my poor pregnant belly was completely empty as it rounded on 2pm. Anyone who’s been pregnant knows that ignoring the urge to eat when hungry leads to nothing but misery for anyone within 10 yards of said pregnant woman, to say nothing of the misery the woman feels. Poor M bore my bad attitude with stoicism. We just needed to get somewhere. Anywhere.

At long last we reached our destination. The clouds were on hiatus temporarily and gave us a tiny glimpse of the grandeur for which we’d suffered these many hours: Hell’s Canyon. But I had only one thing in mind, and that was making myself a hearty sandwich. M took a few photos from the lookout point while I cracked the cooler and dug in. By the time my lunch break was over, the clouds were moving in again and destroying the view for which we’d worked so hard. My hunger sated, I cheered up and took in the waning view. The wind was fierce and chill rains began to fall again. We decided to give up our hiking plans and instead opted to retreat back to civilization. M joked that many people claim to enjoy a day spent driving through lovely scenery. I would like to know if those people a) are driving on nauseatingly bumpy gravel roads and, b) are pregnant. Because if so, I think they’re lying.