The 45.00 Parallel Building and Information Kiosk.
“Resort signs appear. We wind higher and higher into unexpectedly pleasant, cool, green meadows surrounded by pine forests. “(Cont.Next)
In the distance is entrance to New Meadows, ID. All the scenery after Riggings actually does correspond to the Narrator’s description. The only “Resort signs appear.“ that I remember seeing was this Travel Information Kiosk. This building also celebrates the ZMM Route’s crossing of the 45th Parallel, as we travel South. Unmentioned by the Narrator, here you are half way between the Earth’s Equator and the North Pole. Naturally, as done many times previously, I want to check the accuracy of my GPS. Two successive “Save Way Point” on my hand held receiver unit read acceptable results as below: The message on the brown sign post is shown on a second sign for South going traffic. See the next photo.
WayPt 291 = 45.0063622 Degrees North & 116.280445 Degrees West
WayPt 292 = 45.0059545 Degrees North & 116.2804128Degrees West
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In the Center of This Fresh New Meadow, the Left Sign Says “45th Parallel. Halfway Between the Equator and the North Pole [Please] Pass With Care!!”
“ At a town called New Meadows we fill up again and buy two cans of oil, still surprised at the change.“(Cont.Next)
In the distance is entrance to New Meadows, ID. The right sign is an advertisement. All the scenery after Riggings accurately fits the Narrator’s description. Photos are needed.
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After Green Meadows and Two Bushes of Blooming Wild Rose, We Head Down to Dry Sandy Country With Corresponding End Of Day Down Feelings.
“But as we leave New Meadows I note the long slant of the sun and a late afternoon depression begins to set in. At another time of day these mountain meadows would refresh me more, but we’ve gone too long. We pass Tamarack and the road drops down again from green meadows into dry sandy country. .. I guess that’s all I want to say for the Chautauqua today. It’s been a long session and perhaps the most important one. Tomorrow I want to talk about things that seem to turn one toward Quality and turn one away from Quality, some of the traps and problems that come up. .. Strange feelings from the orange sunlight on this sandy dry country so far from home. I wonder if Chris feels it too. Just a sort of unexplained sadness that comes each afternoon when the new day is gone forever and there’s nothing ahead but increasing darkness.“(Cont.Next)
Eleven miles after Tamarack, ID. More depression and fatigue for the Narrator and, no doubt, Chris. But except for the Narrator’s wondering about what Chris notices, we never hear about Chris unless Chris really voices it strongly. Narrator is mostly always thinking about own thoughts, feelings and state of emotion. My notes say “Smell of sage in the left over heat of the day. The new forming blossoms of wild rose smell of sweet raspberry”. I observed wild rose bushes all the way from here to well into Oregon.” In future pages of ZMM, the wild rose has pointed meaning.
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End of Day .... Strange Country .... Empty Highway .... Isolation .... Loneleness.
“The orange turns to dull bronze light and continues to show what it has shown all day long, but now it seems to show it without enthusiasm. Across those dry hills, within those little houses in the distance are people who’ve been there all day long, going about the business of the day, who now find nothing unusual or different in this strange darkening landscape, as we do. If we were to come upon them early in the day they might be curious about us and what we’re here for. But now in the evening they’d just resent our presence. The work day is over. It’s time for supper and family and relaxation and turning inward at home. We ride unnoticed down this empty highway through this strange country I’ve never seen before, and now a heavy feeling of isolation and loneliness becomes dominant and my spirits wane with the sun.“(Cont.Next)
Two miles North of Indian Valley, ID.
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Sunset Illuminates the Dry Desert.
“We stop at an abandoned school yard and under a huge cottonwood tree I change the oil in the cycle. Chris is irritable and wonders why we stop for so long, not knowing perhaps that it’s just the time of day that makes him irritable; but I give him the map to study while I change the oil, and when the oil is changed we look at the map together and decide to have supper at the next good restaurant we find and camp at the first good camping place. That cheers him up.“(Cont.Next)
Fifteen mi to Cambridge, ID. After the town of Tamarack, I look carefully for an abandoned school or even a school building converted to other purposes. I could not discern any likely possibilities. Does any one know where this school might have been? Photo needed.
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Darkness Conceals Main Street.
“At a town called Cambridge we have supper and when we are finished, it’s dark out. We follow the headlight beam down a secondary road toward Oregon …. “(Cont.Next)
Cambridge, ID. After the 25 mph sign, the next white sign says JCT with the Rt73 partly obscured by tree leaves. This is the right turn to go west to the Notorious Snake River and Oregon border. Further North, the Snake River goes through the even more notorious Hell’s Canyon
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”I Like It Here.” In the Quiet Evening, Chris and the Narrator Can Hear a Trickling Stream and Distant Birds.
“ …. to a little sign saying "BROWNLEE CAMPGROUND," which appears to be in a draw of the mountains. In the dark it’s hard to tell what sort of country we’re in. We follow a dirt road under trees and past underbrush to some camper’s pull-ins. No one else seems to be here. When I shut the motor off and we unpack I can hear a small stream nearby. Except for that and the chirping of some little bird there’s no sound. .. "I like it here," Chris says. .. "It’s very quiet," I say. .. "Where will we be going tomorrow?" .. "Into Oregon." I give him the flashlight and have him shine it where I’m unpacking. .. "Have I been there before?" .. "Maybe, I’m not sure." .. I spread out the sleeping bags, and put his on top of the picnic table. The novelty of this appeals to him. This night there’ll be no trouble sleeping. Soon I hear deep breathing that tells me he’s already asleep. “ (Cont. next)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID. As you will see in the next photos this is a treeless extremely baked dry region, so it is a surprise there is a running stream here and so many large trees in a dense forest. (Better photo needed.)
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As the Tiny Bit or Red Fades From the Sky, the Narrator Ponders What to Do.
“I wish I knew what to say to him. Or what to ask. He seems so close at times, and yet the closeness has nothing to do with what is asked or said. Then at other times he seems very far away and sort of watching me from some vantage point I don’t see. And then sometimes he’s just childish and there’s no relation at all. .. Sometimes, when thinking about this, I thought that the idea that one person’s mind is accessible to another’s is just a conversational illusion, just a figure of speech, an assumption that makes some kind of exchange between basically alien creatures seem plausible, and that really the relationship of one person to another is ultimately unknowable. The effort of fathoming what is in another’s mind creates a distortion of what is seen. I’m trying, I suppose, for some situation in which whatever it is emerges undistorted. The way he asks all those questions, I don’t know.“ (End Chapter. 25.)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID. (Better photo needed.)
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The Narrator Awakes To A Cold Grey Predawn.
(Start Chapter 26) “A sensation of cold wakes me up. I see out of the top of the sleeping bag that the sky is dark grey. I pull my head down and close my eyes again. .. Later I see the grey of the sky is lighter, and it’s still cold. I can see the vapor of my breath. An alarmed thought that the grey is from rain clouds overhead wakes me up, but after looking carefully I see that this is just grey dawn. It seems too cold and early to start riding yet, so I don’t get out of the bag. But sleep is gone.“(Cont.Next)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID.(Better photo needed.)
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As the Narrator More Fully Awakes, He Is Rested, Alert, Observant & Ready For This Day’s Chautauqua on Gumption. The Correlated Idea “Everything With a Purpose“ Is Prompted by His Guardian Cycle.
“Through the spokes of the motorcycle wheel I see Chris’s sleeping bag on the picnic table, twisted all around him. He isn’t stirring. .. The cycle looms silently over me, ready to start, as if it has waited all night like some silent guardian. .. Silver-grey and chrome and black—and dusty. Dirt from Idaho and Montana and the Dakotas and Minnesota. From the ground up it looks very impressive. No frills. Everything with a purpose. .. I don’t think I’ll ever sell it. No reason to, really. They’re not like cars, with a body that rusts out in a few years. Keep them tuned and overhauled and they’ll last as long as you do. Probably longer. Quality. It’s carried us so far without trouble.“(Cont.Next)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID.(Better photo needed.)
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The High Bluff Is Seen Between the Trees.
“ …. The sunlight just touches the top of the bluff high above the draw we’re in. A wisp of fog has appeared above the creek. That means it’ll warm up. .. I get out of the sleeping bag, put shoes on, pack everything I can without waking Chris, and then go over to the picnic table and give him a shake to wake him up. .. He doesn’t respond. I look around and see that there are no jobs left to do but wake him up, and hesitate, but feeling manic and jumpy from the brisk morning air holler, "WAKE!" and he sits up suddenly, eyes wide open. .. I do my best to follow this with the opening Quatrain of The Rubàiyat of Omar Khayyàm.“(Cont.Next)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID. If you look between the tree leaves at right you can see what looks like fog. Look closely, it is the relatively smooth light-green (with some brown) of the nearly barren “bluff high above the draw we’re in.“ This, plus perhaps the wild rose here and all along the ZMM Route in this area of Idaho probably stimulated the spontaneous recitation. This is what happens when you are filled with gumption. (Better photo needed.)
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Was the Narrator’s Poetry Recitation Prompted By Seeing White Blossoms of the Wild Rose Like These at Right?
“[I do my best to follow this with the opening Quatrain of The Rubàiyat of Omar Khayyàm.] It looks like some desert cliff in Persia above us. But Chris doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about. He looks up at the top of the bluff and then just sits there squinting at me. You have to be in a certain mood to accept bad recitations of poetry. Particularly that one.“ (Cont. Next)
Brownlee Camp Ground 18 miles West of Cambridge, ID. I first noticed blooming wild rose bushes while taking my Picture 30 Miles prior to Cambridge, ID. The entire poem and some of its history are at: Detour in new browser frame for http://itsa.ucsf.edu/~ico/poetry/rubayat/rubayat.htm
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This Single Tree Is Human Planted and Irrigated. Otherwise, This Shows A Typical View of the Treeless, Dry Grassy Rounded Hills Seen From the Road.
“Soon we’re on the road again, which twists and turns. We stem down into an enormous canyon with high white bluffs on either side. The wind freezes. The road comes into some sunlight which seems to warm me right through the jacket and sweater, but soon we ride into the shade of the canyon wall again where again the wind freezes. This dry desert air doesn’t hold heat. My lips, with the wind blowing into them, feel dry and cracked. .. Farther on we cross a dam and leave the canyon into some high semidesert country. …. “(Cont.Next)
Because of my previously mentioned battery problem, I Have No Photos Showing “twists and turns. “ nor photos of the "enormous canyon with high white bluffs on either side.“, as mentioned next photo. Can You Help Supply Photos for this area of Idaho? Please contact me.
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The Steep Canyon Walls Are Seen Above the Water.
“ …. We stem down into an enormous canyon with high white bluffs on either side. The wind freezes. The road comes into some sunlight which seems to warm me right through the jacket and sweater, but soon we ride into the shade of the canyon wall again where again the wind freezes. This dry desert air doesn’t hold heat. My lips, with the wind blowing into them, feel dry and cracked.“(Cont.Next)
Seven Tenths mi upriver from Brownlee Dam, Snake River Canyon, Border of ID & OR. The volcanic rocks on the far mountain are probably also part the Columbia River Basalt Group. The Narrator’s “We stem down “ is interesting usage of a term applied to a side stream going down to a major river. According to an Idaho Power Company Relicensing Document April 25 2003, the dam for this lake was completed by Summer 1968. WebPage www.wrd.state.or.us/publication/ pdfs/hydro/HCC_PUSP_4-25-03_PDF.pdf states: “A classic debate between the proponents of public and private power [started in 1930’s and ] then ensued and continued until 1955, when the Federal Power Commission (FPC) issued a license to Idaho Power Company for its three dam complex. Construction of the Hells Canyon Complex began in the late 1950s, with formal dedication of the entire complex occurring in May of 1968. The HCC is a 1,167 megawatt, 3-dam complex on the Snake River bordering Oregon and Idaho. The HCC Project is comprised of Brownlee,….Oxbow,….and Hells Canyon ….dams and their associated reservoirs, which inundated 12,000 acres and 94 miles of the Snake River, End PDF. Photos needed several showing views of the Snake River Canyon, just North of the Brownlee Dam. The needed photos for this passage, would show where the road passes into the (freezing) shade from the early morning sun.
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This Is The Huge Lake That Forms Upstream From Brownlee Dam.
“Farther on we cross a dam and leave the canyon into some high semidesert country.“(Cont.Next)
Idaho Power Company, Woodhead Recreation Area, Brownlee Reservoir & Dam, Border of ID & OR. The Narrator says they “cross a dam“ and the next sentence says they are in Oregon. This specifically implies they must have crossed the Snake River (and deep canyon) which is an unavoidable and major N-S barrier that forms the Eastern border of Oregon. These words also imply that in 1968 they used a dam and not a bridge. We are led to believe their 1968 highway crossed on top of a dam. I traveled West from the “Brownlee Camp Ground“ to the Oregon towns of Baker and Unity, which are the next mentioned ZMM towns. I used the only reasonable and available route to connect up these ZMM landmarks and was surprised to find I crossed the Snake River on a bridge one mile south of Brownlee Dam This additional distance is not shown on my 1964 RMcN. Well what about dams in the area? The two obvious Snake River dams in this vicinity were the Brownlee Dam and the Ox Bow Dam. The Brownlee Dam has a roadway part way over it. But this abruptly ends at the edge of a huge and deep spillway. Perhaps there once was a bridge over the spillway? I studied Topozone Maps for areas surrounding both dams, since they show all roads, new and old. According to these maps, the Oregon side of Brownlee Dam has a connecting road on the West side of the river. The maps show Ox Bow Dam has connecting roads, but these are not accessible from Idaho Rt 71, the road that goes by the Brownlee Camp Ground. I provisionally conclude that the Narrator means he crossed over into Oregon (and thus over the Snake River) either on a spillway bridge (since removed) or near a dam rather than actually on a dam.Detour in new browser frame for http://www.topozone.com/map.asp?lat=44.8389&lon=-116.9035&datum=nad83
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Here the Green Irrigated Valley Floors Are Surrounded By Hills Of Baked Dry Brown.
“This is Oregon now. The road winds through a landscape that reminds me of northern Rajasthan, in India, where it’s not quite desert, much piñon, junipers and grass, but not agricultural either, except where a draw or valley provides a little extra water. .. Those crazy Rubàiyat Quatrains keep rumbling through my head.
. . . something, something along some Strip of .. Herbage strown,
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne . . .
That conjures up a glimpse of the ruins of an ancient Mogul palace near the desert where out of the corner of his eye he saw a wild rosebush . . .
And this first summer Month that brings the Rose . . . “(Cont.Next)
Fourteen mi West of Ox Bow Dam, ID & Oregon Border. Along this road the “not quite desert“ is on the hills. The “draw or provides a little extra water” considered usually to the somewhat irrigated fields you see in my photos. New topic: Why does the Narrator keep coming back to “Those crazy Rubàiyat Quatrains“? By now you should have noticed that the Narrator only introduces an idea (or an observation) when it has an illustrative or poetic connection with the Chautauqua at hand. So please start pondering this question and send me your ideas. The entire poem and some of its history are at: Detour in new browser frame for http://itsa.ucsf.edu/~ico/poetry/rubayat/rubayat.htm
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This Is What Northeastern Oregon Looks Like In Places Where There Is No Available Water for Irrigation.
“How did that go? I don’t know. I don’t even like the poem. I’ve noticed since this trip has started and particularly since Bozeman that these fragments seem less and less a part of his memory and more and more a part of mine. I’m not sure what that means . . . I think . . . I just don’t know. .. I think there’s a name for this kind of semidesert, but I can’t think of what it is. No one can be seen anywhere on the road but us. .. Chris hollers that he has diarrhea again.“(Cont.Next)
Ten mi East of Baker, OR.
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In This Parched Land, We Are Surprised By Running Water!
“We ride until I see a stream below and pull off the road and stop. His face is full of embarrassment again but I tell him we’re in no hurry and get out a change of underwear and roll of toilet paper and bar of soap and tell him to wash his hands thoroughly and carefully after he’s done. .. “(Cont.Next)
Land Slide Area near Richland, OR. You (or I) might prefer to ignore (or leave unmentioned) Chris’s messy tough-to-deal-with diarrhea problem. But this problem is, I believe, pointedly placed here as an introduction to the topic and the homely qualities of Gumption. One day earlier, Chris had to be helped. Now, as you will see, he handles this straightforwardly and emerges in a cheerful mood. Gumption! Even the Narrator calmly handles the delay and carefully avoids making Chris feel worse than he already feels! Gumption! New topic: In the next caption is an “Omar Khayyàm rock“interlude? Why does he do this? I seriously doubt the verses are just “filler” or merely a needed indication of the passing of time in the story. I also doubt this is a delay indicating the author’s procrastination in getting down to the really tough boring task of writing about the (Narrator so stated) boring tough topic of Gumptionology. So …… is the interlude intended to show that the Narrator can turn the wait time to good use? Or is this interlude designed to make us, as readers, also peaceful and contented? Are we thus enjoined to allow what is going to happen … to happen … without impatience? Are we, as readers, in these moments supposed to be keeping ourselves on the Quality Track and full of gumption? Are we thus to be alert and actively looking for exactly how we (also) should respond here?
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