Many years ago, when we lived in New Hampshire, Fred would read to me Robert Frost poems in front of an old fireplace, lit with crackling orange flames burning wood collected locally.  New England winter nights were cold and damp and the thick forest outside our door mysterious, so the warmth was comforting as we settled in with pillows on a wide-planked wooden floor and The Poetry of Robert Frost, a thick volume with a cover photo of a low rock wall extending over a green field.  Our favorite poems were "After Apple Picking" and "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening."  The Robert Frost Farm, where Frost wrote his early poems was just 20 minutes away in Derry, New Hampshire.  Through our explorations into the New Hampshire woods, we could directly experience the moods and scenes of Frost's poems.

Frost's most famous poem, "The Road Not Taken" is a testament to his choosing the unconventional road of writing poetry instead of farming; he put some effort into the latter career, but found passion and talent for the former.  Farmers were expected to work hard and rise early but Frost seldom fit that expectation.  He chose a different path, and grateful that he did, for we have his writings that reflect his deep connection to the nature and land of New England.

Unlike the extensive and deep, dark woods of New England, the summits near Boise are open; landmarks are easily seen to guide off-trail hiking.  With a good topo map in hand, we have taken several ridges to the summit of Lucky Peak, making our own path to see what we can discover along the way.

In winter, we like to hike Lucky Peak using the southeast ridge approach that begins at the Boise River Wilderness Management Area building on Idaho Highway 21.  Sometimes we are able to get to the summit - sometimes not because of weather.  In February, a snowshoe hike that started with sparse snow flakes quickly developed into a snowstorm with limited visibility.  The storm became worse as each minute passed, and by the time we got up to the intersection with the road to Adelmann Mine, breaking trail through 8 inches of snow, the visibility was about 60 feet. Instead of pressing on into this white void and deep snow to the summit, another 1,100-foot climb, we turned around to find our way back down, the snow working quickly to fill our snowshoe tracks.  When hiking the ridge, we use Douglas Firs that are just to the right of the ridge as a landmark.

Rewards for climbing the ridge instead of the road abound.  First of all, finding your own way is a challenge.  The off-trail route for this hike is not difficult - you keep going up, but you don't want to waste too much time recovering from a loss in elevation.  Also, you often see things that you wouldn't see following someone else's tracks.  Thousands of elk tracks, making deep divots in the moist, squishy soil made our steep ascent to the ridge slow and bumpy, but once onto it, we found a faint human trail.  The first wildflowers of the season were poking through last year's dead grasses - spots of bright green among thick faded brown mats.  Up higher and onto the snow, our route intersected a wide elk trail - deep hoof prints heading down a steep ravine.  ​Last year, we witnessed a huge herd of elk, led by one bull elk with enormous antlers traverse a large hillside to a ridge top while we approached Lucky Peak summit from a different ridge to the east.  For a few moments, the bull elk's silhouette stood on the ridge against the sky, and then was gone.

Once, a large, fast-moving shadow floating over a gulch and then ascending a ridge caught my eye.  In the azure blue sky a golden eagle slowly flapped its long wings, a dark and graceful presence moving effortlessly.  

In March, we navigated over the snow easily, barely sinking but still making discernible prints on the surface as we climbed over three rises to meet with Shaw Mountain Road, a birdhouse at its intersection.  The Douglas fir trees on the right side of the ridge have become familiar now, and there is one huge Doug fir that stands out from the rest, a sentinel that looks to the rugged snow-capped mountains of the Boise National Forest.  The view from Lucky Peak summit is awe-inspiring:  Shafer Butte and Bogus Basin Ski area to the northwest, and Boise is seen in the flat darkness of the Treasure Valley.

Sure, getting up to the proper ridge is pretty intense work usually.  But once on top, the world drops on either side, and you follow the narrow land and wide sky up.  After intersecting with Shaw Mountain Road, Lucky Peak's summit looms with its numerous antennas.  A fun loop hike would be ascend the same ridge, and then descend Shaw Mountain Road to either East or West Highland Valley Road, necessitating a car shuttle.

We initially ascended the "wrong" ridge on our way to summit Pinto Mountain in Joshua Tree Wilderness a few months ago and found a large circle of rocks making me wonder who made this and why?  Trekking through the gulch to this spot, we found a vibrant and lush green garden spilling with vines and bright red barrel cactus, out of place in the stark and barren brown Pinto Mountains.  You find the most interesting things off the beaten path.

Many times we have hiked the standard Lucky Peak Trail to the south of the summit.  It's great to meet people along the way, but hiking Lucky's "backside" is more rewarding because it feels remote in comparison, as if we have it to ourselves.  It's a distinct feeling of fulfillment and a deeper connection to our local environment to walk the ridge less traveled; and as Robert Frost writes, "...that has made all the difference."

I have a greater appreciation for nature when I hike in adverse weather.   Lots of times it makes for dramatic scenes.  We went up into the clouds facing a steady headwind and came down in sun and breaking clouds with warmer temperatures.  At the truck we give "high-fives" and realize how fortunate we are to share such beauty together.  Get out of the city, take a short drive, see some beautiful Idaho!

An early, deep autumn snow created a spectacular scene at Miner Lake north of Ketchum, Idaho.

Miner Lake, Smoky Mountains, Central Idaho

Our Hike
Surprises, unplanned elements, the unexpected - these things make some adventures more memorable than others.  When I experience adversity or surprises, I feel a deeper connection and appreciation for our awesome American West.   Filed in the “special adventure” part of my memory is the hike where I fell into a cold Imogene Lake in the Sawtooths while walking on an unstable log bridge, and the time Fred and I were caught in a summit lightning storm on Engineer Peak near Durango, Colorado.  There was the snowstorm we walked in as we hiked toward Sunset Mountain Lookout in Idaho – and across the valley, a couple would spend the night in the freezing wilderness after getting lost in that same storm.

Miner Lake in the Smoky Mountains north of Ketchum, Idaho at 8,770 feet

Reflection in Miner Creek

​A September snowstorm changed our plans to climb Norton Peak in the Smoky Mountains northwest of Ketchum, Idaho last weekend.  When we got to Miner Lake just below the peak, the snow was 18 inches deep at 8,770 feet elevation, we realized we would need crampons to hike the rest of the route to Norton Peak, at an elevation of 10,300 feet.  What we saw at the lake was incredibly stark and beautiful.  Fred and I noticed immediately the lack of sound – no wind, no water, no leaves rustling, no animal sounds.  Thick powdery snow covered green shrubs and grasses, and it weighed down fir branches.  It was a winter scene that looked strange with the angle of the late summer sun.

​The Prairie Lakes trail was easy to follow for the first 2 miles.  Prairie Creek still had enough water to require rock and log-hopping to get across in order to keep dry boots.  When we crossed this trail earlier this year on the Prairie Lakes/Miner Lake loop, the water was deep and we doffed boots in order to cross.  As soon as we crossed Prairie Creek and started to climb south to Miner Lake, we found our way through ever-deepening snow by following tree blazes.  Fred led the way by following a faint trough in the snow that marked the trail.

Coming out of the trees, a glaciated valley opens up with flanks sweeping up toward Norton Peak.  Most of the rock was covered by deep snow.  As we neared Miner Creek, the air was crystal clear and we could see still reflections of heavily snow-laden fir trees upside down in the water.  The white-covered branches stood out against the azure blue waters.  We had an easy trek through deep, light, fluffy snow to the shore of Miner Lake.  The more you get out there, the greater chance you have at seeing a pristine, just-after-a snowstorm scene.  We hit it just perfectly that day.
 
Silver and gold mines nearest to Miner Lake are the Solace, Weblock and Vienna mines near Smiley Creek, to the northwest.  To the south, the abandoned mining town of Carrietown lies near the Big and Little Smoky Rosetta district where ores rich in silver, zinc, and lead were discovered in the 1880’s.  Mining was the impetus for the Wood River Valley’s initial prosperity.

Approaching Miner Lake

​During the last mile of this hike, as with all of our other adventures, Fred and I realize how much we love to hike together.  We discuss what we just have experienced – the silence, the snow condition, the clear lake water.  To be able to hike with my husband gives me even more happiness than the gorgeous nature of Idaho Mountains.  It’s then that I realize I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but where I am at that moment.

Prairie Creek

Eighteen years ago, on our first snowshoe hike to Sunset Mountain Lookout, we ran into a skier coming down from the mountain.  He said, as he turned and pointed, "turn left at the tall fir tree when you get to the clearing at the top of this rise."  It was a bright sunny day and one of our first snowshoe hikes in Idaho.  Every time I do this hike, I remember those directions and that tree, although we know the route so well after having hiked it once or twice a year for 18 years.

Over the years, the snow-filled parking lot at Mores Creek Summit, which is plowed, has more and more vehicles and trailers of snowmobilers, skiers and snowshoers.  This is where two trailheads are located.  The snow machines mostly run on the trail to Pilot Peak, on the north side of ID 21, as well as some skiers, while most snowshoers go up to Sunset Lookout on the south side.   Getting up over the berm of snow from the parking lot and onto Forest Road #316 is a bit steep, but once you find the tracks and groove of the road, it climbs at a moderate incline.  It heads south and southeastward up and then down a wide creek valley, then up to a clearing at the top of a ridge where the road then heads to the left (northeast) briefly before heading through the forest in a southeastward direction.  The first view of Sunset Mountain Lookout can be seen - the building a small speck on the highest rise to the south.

After this clearing, the trail descends briefly and is level for ~ 0.5 miles before it begins to climb again.  Clearings show the immensity of the Boise National Forest to the northeast, with mountains, deep valleys and tall trees with snow-covered branches.  The only sound on this hike is our snowshoes crunching through the snow; the forest is blissfully quiet.  

The last half of the hike is a steady climb that gets steeper as the road approaches the lookout.  We short-cut the road and switchback straight up the open, steep slope just below the final rise to the lookout.  Once up this steep rise, we meet with the forest road and follow it more or less the last few hundred yards to the top.

This winter’s snowshoe hike to Sunset Lookout proved to be one of the most spectacular trips this season because of record snowfall in Idaho and a recent storm that provided 5 inches of new, fluffy powder over a firm base.  On the last 1/2 mile to the summit, we followed a skier’s track that made small switchbacks up the steep, final face to the top, where an expansive 360-degree view of white and grey mountains surrounded us.  The fir trees were white, too, with only a few inches of green showing beneath branches under thick snow cover.  Grey clouds floated by us, now and then obstructing our view.  It was a surreal scene that not many get to witness.

Fred and I make this trek every winter.  We rarely see others, except the occasional backcountry skier.  Once away from the parking lot, the noise from the snow machines that run to Pilot Peak on the other side of the summit quickly dies away.  Once we saw a snowmobiler, by himself near the top of Sunset Mountain years ago.  We dug him out of a snow hole.

​After an initial climb for 1.5 miles, the hike levels out as it traverses across a broad, flat area through a Ponderosa pine and Douglas fir forest in a southeasterly direction. A break in the forest allows a first glimpse of Sunset Mountain Fire Lookout.  At about 2 miles, you find yourself on a ridge overlooking a stunning valley with the Boise National Forest at your feet. 
Unfortunately, much of this area was burned in the Pioneer Fire in August 2016.  As the trail starts to climb again, you can choose to stay on the path the road takes leading to the right, or stay on the ridge with steeper hiking to the left (east of forest road).  Further up, ridge and road meet at a small flat area where the top of Sunset Mountain finally comes back into view.  This is where the real climbing begins.  We hike straight up the final mountain face, instead of taking the gentler, longer road to the top. 

View of Sawtooth Mountains in the distance from top of Sunset Mountain Lookout
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Violence, shootings, claim disputes, The Owyhee “war” of 1868, and the extraction of millions of dollars of gold and silver ore are a few of the subjects for the storied past of Silver City, a preserved ghost town tucked high in the Owyhee Mountains in southwestern Idaho.  In 1863, gold was discovered in Jordan Creek, a pleasant stream that cuts the valley in which this town lies by a party of gold prospectors from Boise Basin.  Legend has it that gold nuggets were found earlier in nearby Sinker Creek, named so by emigrants on their way to Oregon who used these for sinkers on their fishing lines.  Rich veins were discovered after prospectors traced placer gravels near Sinker Creek to their source near War Eagle Mountain, southeast of the town.  Two periods of lucrative and frenzied mining activity took place in Silver City between 1863–1914, resulting in mines such as the Poorman, Golden Chariot, Mahogany, and Afterthought.
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​​Last March, we drove up Silver City Road to where the snow began, parked and walked 4 miles into the town on firm snow, so walking did not necessitate wearing snowshoes, although we carried them just in case.  We ran into a snow-cat group who were playing in the snow because they couldn’t get their machine over the steep and deep New York Summit, the pass into Silver City.