Day 3 of 62

In the morning, the bus started up just fine and I drove a mile to the mechanic. (Let me intrude for a moment to say a silent thanks for an auto mechanic who is open on Sunday mornings. If you’re in Burns OR, looks up “Sam’s Service”. Sam is a good guy.) During the brief drive, the warning light went off. The mechanic popped the hood and put a volt meter across the terminals and said the alternator was definitely healthy and charging at a very good rate. And the fact that I had stopped and started the bus about five times since the warning light first tripped was a good sign that the battery was fine. The bus has ~100K miles on it, and it appears to be the original alternator, so it wouldn’t be shocking if it was beginning to fail. But, since the light had gone out, it appeared to be charging, and everything was working fine, we decided to just press on and see what happened. Besides, it’s not like I was going to find an alternator for a 1995 Eurovan in Burns OR anyway.

So, wagons ho! From Burns we took Route 20 to Ontario on the Oregon-Idaho border. Ontario wasn’t much bigger than Burns, but we found a really nice Italian place for lunch, where we had excellent calzones. Crossing the border, we took Route 52 east into Idaho, turned north on Route 55 and then east again on Banks-Lowman Road (some road that has no number on our map, and doesn’t show up on our GPS at all).

The battery light came on again in the afternoon, but went out after about 30 minutes. I didn’t know what to do about that except wait for it to happen in a big city and try to find someone to test the alternator while the light is on. Perhaps this was an intermittent failure foreshadowing the alternator dying completely.

In planning this trip, I had a strong preference for staying off the interstates and sticking to smaller backroads and rural routes. I really wanted to see more of the country, and it seems like the interstates are all about making sure you don’t see anything. Based on the evidence of three days, that was a smart decision. Our time driving through boring, featureless countryside has been equaled or exceeded by lengthy drives through unbelievable gorges, along roaring rivers and stunning natural beauty. Route 55 runs along the Payette River. It seemed like every other car we passed had one or more kayaks strapped to it, and we stopped twice to watch kayakers negotiate particularly fierce sections of rapids. The subsequent Banks-Lowman Road runs along the North Fork of the Payette River, and is every bit as wonderful.

We finally stopped for the night at the tiny Deadwood Campground (a US Forest Service site with only six slots) and found a spot right next to a fork of the Deadwood River. The last couple of hours of daylight were spent wading in the river and gathering dry driftwood from the banks for the evening fire. I love camping where I can hear rushing water. A sign says the local forest service is looking for “campground hosts” to start immediately, through September 10. I was briefly tempted, but … maybe next time.

The evening’s fire started with only a single match. Best. Fire. Ever.