July 15, 2011 - Alturas Lake, Sawtooth National Recreation Area, Idaho
As we drive north the impact of the distant mountains begins to be obvious as the runoff water from up hill begin to green the otherwise arid landscape. At first, just one farm appeared and then another until the whole countryside has been transformed into a sea of green alfalfa and knee high corn. Active long rows of sprinklers spray hugh fountains into the air that stretch off into the distance leaving behind a waving lushness. As we drive north the flat plain become rolling hills, then wide valleys as the mountain range grows, then clearing off in the distance we see the glistening snowcapped peaks that give the Sawtooth it's name. As we approach Hailey, the working farms begin to give way to bolder and brighter ranches with massive timber ranch gates facing the road proudly displaying the family name and brand. Then all at once we are swooped up into the embrace of a sparkling western town, with fresh paint, cheerful signs and bustling bag carrying foot traffic. Banners span the roadway announcing the summer festivals and we are tempted to stop for refreshment - however, the mountains beckon, and on a Friday night we are fearful of not getting a site, as most here are first come first serve. We discover at a brief stop at the ranger station north Ketchum that there is a "Mountain Mama" festival in Stanley just 50 miles up the road this weekend, so the campsites further north will be packed.
The first big lake we come to is Alturas Lake, about 3 1/2 miles long and we are ready to stop. The Smokey Bear campsite offers just a few open sites, but the camping places are spaced widely apart and we find a perfect spot, not far from the lake's shore, with widely spaced trees and a open view to the east.
Once fortified with a late lunch we set about to the matter at hand - assembling the kayak. We had stowed it multiple pieces in many nooks and crannies, so the first step was to gather all the sacks and parts, and loose aluminum struts into a comprehensible pile. Once that task was accomplished, with diane perched on a camp chair with the instructions, we methodically assembled our wonderful craft. Almost two hours later, we are suited up, life jackets zipped and ready to wheel the boat to the nearby shore. At 87 pounds, it is a trifle heavy for us to carry, so we use a wonderful two-wheeled cart (collapsable of course) to support the bulk of the weight. Happily we stroll over to the beach, tip the boat off the cart and paddle away into the pristine mountain water.
There is a slight breeze coming from the northwest, so we head that direction hoping to get a free ride home on the wind and begin our exploration of the lake's eastern shore. The early evening low angle sun has already formed deep shadows on this side of the lake, but the opposite shore is ablaze with an orange glow. Up high the snowcapped peaks begin to take on a yellowish reflection. No fish are jumping, but we do come upon a 4 point buck grazing at the lake's edge, barely ruffled by our passage he continues to forage as we float right by so close we can see the fine hairs on his still fuzzy antlers, the woody pointed parts still concealed beneath their protective coat. He steps up onto to rock to reach a higher branch and proudly displays his full chest and broad shoulders. By the time I even think of the camera, the moment has passed as we are blown past by the building wind and a fat rain begins to pelt the lake as a front passes overhead. I push hard on the right rudder peddle and we head for camp.
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