Weekend blog. Items from the past, continued.

(Undated, but written in July 1989).

Yesterday we went fishing up north -- miles into the Boise National Forest, up roads and past excellent vistas and sheer drop-offs without the benefit of railings. We fished at several spots. My pole kept jamming, and no fish showed any interest in my hook. It only confirmed what I knew already: I don't like fishing. But I thought that if I were going to give it a try again, Idaho would be the place. I will never be a sport fisherman.

So I took long walks, along the roads sometimes, more often along the banks of the Payette River. My mind wandered as much. The air was hot but dry. The trees shaded most of my way. The only sounds were the river gurgling and an underfoot crunching.

En route back from "fishing," we stopped at a little wayside camp ground called Kirkham. Down a path from that spot, you reach a stream debouching into the Payette River. Rivers here are cold. But this stream is warm -- hot even, sulfurous water leaching from deep in the mountain somewhere and ending up here. Several natural hot tubs are formed by boulders underneath a cluster of small waterfalls.

"That's my favorite spot!" said a man who came to the hot springs a little while after we did. It wasn't in the tone of get out of my spot! Instead, he was sharing his enthusiasm for the natural hot-tub pool I was sitting in, under a waterfall. Spent many fine minutes there. It was like taking a warm shower.