8/11/25 3:00 105f (40.5c) Clear sky, no wind in town.

I had been  cooped up in the house with this cold for eleven days. Walter had been  cooped up here with me.  We were both going  stir crazy.

I was feeling better, enough better to contemplate a ride into the woods. Surely sitting next to a creek in the mountains would be better for me than another  day spent inside in the Lazy-Boy?

I rolled the Triumph out of the shop and we suited up – Walter in harness and doggles,  me with helmet, boots, gloves and a mesh jacket over an evaporative cooling vest. We’d  be OK if we kept moving.

We  stopped for gas in Pine Grove.  As usual, Walter drew all sorts of attention and photographs.  And, as usual,  he looked away from the cameras as the pictures were snapped.

We headed across the bridge and north into the National Forest. The woods were nearly deserted,  a pleasant change from the new normal.

There was a family camped by the bridge at Pistol Creek,  but our destination was beyond that. Jason had found an elk camp with a functional home-made outhouse on the way to the first longhouse campsite. I wanted to scout it out for a camping trip next week.

Following  Jason’s  directions, I went past the bridge a little bit and turned right on a small spur. I paused at a few likely looking sites but didn’t find the outhouse, so I continued until I  reached the creek at the first longhouse campsite.

The junction at the spur road into the old longhouse camp.

the spur road was exactly 33 miles from the gas station in Pine Grove.

Arriving at the old longhouse camp on Pistol Creek.

Walter and I  dismounted and I set up a table and chair on the beach. While Walter splashed in the creek, I retrieved a beer from the sidecar and a foil wrapped tamale from the hot engine case.

5 minutes and 6/10 of a mile in, we arrived at the creek.

parked in the shade near the creek.

You can see a foil wrapped tamale below the carburetor, heating on the engine.

Walter cooling off in Pistol Creek.

Hot tamale and tepid beer by the creek.

My brother recorded 105f (16.5c) at our folk’s house. I didn’t bring a thermometer,  but it was  tolerably cooler as I  enjoyed my lunch by the creek. Flaming orange  butterflies flitted about. Minnows jumped in the stream. A brilliant blue and white Kingfisher darted past. It was definitely better than another day at home in the recliner.

A wet, dirty, and therefore happy dog.

These butterflies were everywhere.

Walter Dawg

There were no mosquitoes, but eventually the flies and yellow jackets found us so we packed up and left, retracing our path.

I took  a couple of detours up roads that quickly  proved unused and unlikely. Crossing a small wash I pulled into an old campsite I had stopped at briefly on the way in. This time I looked more closely. Way up in back, I found the outhouse. It looked like it was in relatively good condition, just as Jason had described it. The pit was getting full, but still usable, the structure itself was clean and free of rodents.

The elk camp Jason found.

The outhouse is not visible from the road.

The latrine was remarkably clean inside.

The campsite itself was a fairly open glade in a stand of lodegpole pine, with a few scattered hemlock and spruce. It easily had room for several tents or tipis. I sat in my chair and had iced tea, dozing in the sun with Walter at my side. Enough breeze filtered through the trees to ensure a comfortable temperature. It wasn’t buggy. It would do.

Boomer Scout Troop is hard work, but somebody’s got to do it.

As always, Walter did his part.

After about an hour of pleasant repose, we hopped on the bike and started home. At the bridge I imposed on the family camped there, who were kind enough to allow me access to the creek to soak my vest. They had a passel of dogs ranging in age from a few months to 13 years. The nicest pack of pups you could hope to come across, preoccupied with licking and playing and rolling in the dirt. They didn’t bother Walter, who remained aloof in the sidecar.

We took our leave and headed back down the road, dodging potholes until we reached the pavement, several miles away. We detoured through the Big Lava Bed on our way back, because, well, because I felt like it.

We detoured through the Big Lava Bed on a rugged rock track.

It was hot out in the rocks.

When we left the forest and arrived at the brim of the gorge, the temperature rose considerably. I was glad to have the wet, evaporative vest. We got home at 6:30, having done a round trip of seventy-five miles. It was still well over ninety degrees. I headed for the easy-chair and air-conditioning.

Round trip from Pine Grove, so add about 5 miles. We did about 75 miles total.