Veteran at the Range - Part 2

On Monday I took the Krag-Jorgensen Model 1899 Carbine back out to the range.  This time I went to the full-distance rifle range to see what I could learn about how it shoots at a distance, zero the sights, and generally just have some fun with it.  I did learn some things, but the results weren't quite what I was hoping for.

In the week since I'd taken it out to shoot it for the first time, I had read up on the sighting system and how to adjust it.  It was pretty simple once I understood how it was designed to work.  This carbine has a simple blade front sight like all the Krags. The rear sight is the Model 1901, a change from the Model 1896 rear sight that was installed on about the first 10,000 carbines produced. The Model 1901 sight remained standard through the end of production in 1903.

The model 1901 sight has four different sighting apertures on it, and it was the relation between these that I hadn't understood.   The Army manual for the rifle and carbine explains the various parts of the various sights, including the apertures and their uses:

The cover of the final U.S. Army Ordnance manual for the Krag-Jorgensen.

The first of four pages covering the Model 1901 rear sight. The rifle and carbine sights were identical except for different range gradations on the carbine version (due to the shorter barrel and corresponding lower muzzle velocity).  

These are the pages with the detailed information about how the sights are calibrated and adjusted.  Keep in mind that this was written for the average soldier.  I think our education system has declined significantly in the last 100 years.   

Paraphrased:  "Oh, by the way, none of what we just told you is reliable.  Go figure it out for yourself."

Actually, that last caption is a bit unfair - the text actually reflects the reality of rifle sights - you have to zero them by actual firing due to the variation in all the parameters listed.  Because the gradations on the rifle sights of the time could not be adjusted, they just had to learn where it would really hit by trial and error in the field, and then remember it for various conditions.   When the M1 Garand was adopted in 1936, it was issued with a new type of rear sight on which the sight aperture could be adjusted relative to the numbers on the adjustment knobs. Once the rifle is zeroed in, the numbers actually do represent the settings for the different ranges in yards.   

In any case, I now knew how to read and adjust the rear sights on my carbine.

The rear sight on my carbine, with the leaf folded down for carrying and close-in or hasty shooting.  The leaf slide has a U-shaped notch aperture for sighting when it is in this position.  The peep aperture is also visible in this photo, but can only be used when the leaf is in the vertical position.

The rear sight with the leaf in the vertical position.  In this photo, the peep aperture (little round hole) is set to 400 yards, and the U-shaped aperture on the top is simultaneously set at 1,000 yards.  The very top of the leaf has the fourth aperture which corresponds to 2,300 yards.  Although the peep aperture has a 100 yard setting, I could not see through it at all, so I didn't use it.

The side of the sight showing the gradations from 100 to 500 yards.  At its lowest setting (slide all the way to the sight base) it is set to 100 yards.  Moving the slide forward raises it on the sloped base, setting it to the ranges marked on the side.   "B" is the Battle Sight Zero, the setting at which the bullet will hit somewhere on a man-size target at any range out to 500 yards.  Also visible are the "C" markings on the base and the leaf, meaning these are carbine sights. Carbine sights are much less common than rifle sights, and are one of the telltale signs of a genuine carbine versus a fake made from a cut-down rifle.  

Now I was ready to go to the range and shoot!  I took full-size Project Appleseed silhouette targets, which are based on the old pre-1975 U.S. Army targets that had been used for practice and competition for decades.   I planned to shoot at 100, 200, and 300 yards, taking notes to remember the actual point of impact relative to the sight settings.  I was pretty sure they would not be exactly as marked, because the commercial ammunition was loaded with a different bullet than the service round of the time.   I also planned to use my nifty new Garmin Xero C1 doppler radar chronograph to record the muzzle velocity of the ammunition, so that I would know how to duplicate the cartridge characteristics when I loaded my own ammunition later on. 

It was kind of a crummy day, rainy and cold, but I loaded up and headed for the range.  It has covered firing positions to keep you dry, and I know how to keep warm.  🙂  Once I got set up and ready, I fired a shot downrange at 100 yards, holding a good sight picture across the base of the target.  A look through the scope showed that there was no hole in the target!  There was a hole in the white plastic backing material right above the edge of my paper, but I was not 100% sure it had not been there before.  So I fired a second shot.  Sure enough, a second hole appeared next to the first one.   Crum!   The rifle was shooting high, and the sights were adjusted as low as they could possibly go.

I decided to experiment with "Kentucky windage" (perhaps I should call it "Kentucky elevation", lol).  First, I fired three shots with the rear sight base in the same position on the target, but lowering the barrel so that the front sight was just barely visible as a little hint of a bump at the bottom.   This produced OK results (I scored three 5's) but they were widely dispersed vertically - one was almost off at the top and another almost off at the bottom.  So that was not an optimal technique.

Next I decided to hold as close to perfect sight alignment as possible (front sight blade centered in the U-shaped notch, with the top of the blade the same height as the top of the rear sight), and then hold low on the target by the distance I needed to bring the point of impact down.  It was difficult for me to do this consistently, but I did the best I could, and fired five shots.   This was much more successful - one 4, two 5's, and two V's (center of the 5-ring).  The group was much better, so this would need to be my technique at 100 yards.

My 100-yard target.  The first two shots are visible just off the paper at the top.  The next three shots are 5's - one on the line at 1:00, one at 2:30, and one at the bottom at 6:30.  The next five were better, although I did pull one up and left into the 4 ring.

This was all well and good, but I haven't mentioned that even seeing the rear sight at all was a huge challenge for me.  I just can't bring the sights into clear focus, which is essential.  Ideally you focus on the front sight blade and the rear sight and target are a bit blurry, but for me *everything* was a complete blur.  The only way I could even come close to seeing the sights well enough to achieve proper alignment was to wear my pistol-shooting glasses, which allow my eyes to focus at arm's length.  The target was a complete blur, but I at least could align the sights.  Given all that, I was very happy with the above results.  I don't think it is possible for me to do better with this rifle.

I will also note that at this point I took the velocity readings off the chronograph.  My commercial ammunition (Remington 180 grain Cor-Lokt PSP) clocked an average velocity of 2187 fps, significantly faster than the specified service round velocity of 1920 fps (for the carbine).

The .30 Government was the Army's first smokeless powder round.  The French had invented smokeless powder in the 1870s, and it was a well-guarded secret.  Every other major country raced to develop their own formulas, as it provided a huge technical advantage.

Next, I set up to fire a shot at 200 yards, but left the sights set at 100 yards to see how much it would drop in that distance.  It took me a long time, because I just could *not* get any kind of sight picture.  The pistol glasses made the target all but disappear at 200 yards.  I finally fired a shot, and decided to go downrange and check it before firing any more.  (In good weather, my scope can pick up .30-caliber holes in the targets, but it was a cloudy, rainy day and also starting to get dark).  

The target was completely unscathed.   I felt a bit like John Cleese in the Month Python cheese shop sketch  ("Predictable really, I suppose.  It was an act of pure optimism to have fired the shot in the first place.")  😂   I knew right then that I had fired this rifle for the last time.   It is an interesting historic artifact that I am happy to have in my collection, and will enjoy learning more about and examining from time to time.  But it is hopeless for me to try to shoot it.   Perhaps I'll bring it out to some public shoot someday and let the kids take a shot as a learning experience.  But I'm afraid I'm done shooting it myself.  

During the process of preparing to write this range report, I ran across some additional interesting information.  So for anyone out there who reads this (and gets this far without closing the browser tab!), here are a few additional technical and historical tidbits.  

First, some additional information about how the mechanism of the rifle works.  The Krag is unique among U.S. military rifles in that it is a repeating rifle that can only be loaded with loose rounds - there are no clips or detachable magazines.  The photos and diagrams explain:

On the right side of the receiver is a hinged loading gate with a large flange on it for use in opening it.

To load the rifle, you drop up to five loose cartridges into the open magazine well.  It has a spring-loaded follower arm that pushes them into position when you close the gate. 

The cartridges are now visible, ready to be loaded into the chamber when the bolt is pushed forward.

This diagram from the Army manual shows how the cartridges are fed in and around to be in position for loading into the chamber by cycling the bolt.  It also refers to the operation of the magazine cutoff, which I explain below. 

The Krag-Jorgensen, like the Model 1903 that replaced it, has a "magazine cut-off", a lever that when activated prevents cartridges from being stripped out of the magazine by the action of the bolt and permitting single loading while holding the cartridges in the magazine in reserve.  Senior officers of the U.S. Army had strongly resisted adopting a repeating rifle out of concern that soldiers would "waste ammunition" by firing too quickly.  Even after the repeating rifle had been adopted, Army combat doctrine still stated that soldiers would load and fire single shots, using the magazine only in an "emergency".   The realities of modern warfare finally overcame this doctrine sometime around WWI.

Here the bolt has pushed a cartridge partway into the chamber. In the photo above, a single cartridge is being loaded into the chamber, with the cutoff switch in the down position (magazine off).

The bolt is fully closed and the firing pin cocked.  The safety lever at the back of the bolt has been rotated from left (fire) to right (safe).  The magazine cutoff switch has been rotated from down (magazine "off") to up (magazine "on").  The rifle is now prepared to fire six shots as fast as the operator can flip off the safety and work the bolt.

The concerns about "wasting ammunition" and requiring soldiers to fire single-shot-only in combat seems very strange to modern sensibilities.  During the Indian Wars, soldiers armed with the single-shot Springfield Trapdoor would try to increase their rate of fire by carrying cartridges in horse feeding bags around their necks, and by placing cartridges in readiness between the fingers of their support-side hand for quick reloads when under fire. This video shows that technique at about 2:00:  Firing the Springfield Trapdoor

I have always attributed the reluctance to adopt repeating rifles as well as the insistence on a magazine cutoff to hidebound, obstinate, overly-conservative Army Ordnance bureaucracy, but I recently read something that put the issue in a different light.  As noted in the ammunition description from the manual, a case of 1,000 .30-40 Krag cartridges weighed 78 to 79 pounds.  The actual size of an Army Regiment at that time was around 400 soldiers, maybe a little more (they were severely undermanned).  The basic ammunition load to fill the cartridge belt was 100 rounds.  400 soldiers x 100 rounds = 40,000 rounds just to arm the regiment with a basic load (not to mention resupply of expended ammunition). Forty 1,000-round cases x 78 pounds = 3,128 lb. of ammunition.  

When the Krag-Jorgensen was first issued, almost the entire Regular Army was stationed on the frontier, west of the Mississippi River. Most frontier forts were far from any railroads, and required resupply by horse-drawn wagons over very bad roads.  These facts make it easier to understand why senior Army officers were concerned about ammunition consumption - they wanted to encourage careful, aimed rifle fire.

There were a few other interesting historical gems in the manual and in another of my reference books.    Because the bullet flies in a parabolic trajectory, at any given range it will either be rising, be at its maximum ordinate (highest point), or falling back down due to gravity.  The farther away the sights are set, the higher the parabolic arc, and the shorter the areas at each end of the arc where the bullet would strike a target (vs. going over their heads).

The following tables and charts show the so-called "dangerous areas" for cavalry and infantry with the rifle set for various ranges. The way these would be used at the longer ranges was that the officer or sergeant would call out the range (say, 1500 yards), and everyone would set their sights to that range.  They would then wait for the enemy to be in the "dangerous area", and commence "volley fire", simply putting a volume fire into that area.  As the advancing enemy came close, different sight settings would be called out.  Within 500 yards or so, the sights would be set to the Battle Sight setting "B", and they could expect to hit any target within that range.

500, 1000, 1500, and 2000-yard trajectories and dangerous spaces.  The data were also presented in tables giving yardages, and stated the assumption that the rifle was 56 inches off the ground, Infantry was 68 inches high, and cavalry was 8 feet high, and that shots were aimed at the middle of the target.

500-yard trajectories depicted at a different scale.

My other Krag-Jorgensen reference is "The Krag Rifle" by Lt. Col William Brophy.  It is a really excellent reference with hundreds of photographs and detailed information about variations.  It has some interesting photos of shooting positions recommended at the time.  I found it interesting that *none* of them uses a sling as a shooting aid.  That must have come in with the M1903 rifle and the M1907 sling.

This book is out of print now, but well worth finding for a Krag collector or aficionado.

Very interesting sitting position!

No use of the sling for support.  It's also interesting to note that the trigger-side knee is not bent to raise the hips and free the diaphragm.  My dad was taught to shoot like this, and I had a heck of a time getting him to change it for our rifle league matches in the 1980s and 1990s.

This has been fun, but now it's time to clean my "War College Carbine" and put it back up on the wall.  Next time I take a historic rifle to the range, it will be one on which I can see the sights!

Mood:  Happy

Music:  "Damn, Damn, Damn the Filipinos (Civilize 'Em with a Krag)"

Veterans Day at the Range

Yesterday was Veterans Day, and as I do on most such holidays, I went to the shooting range.  (Coincidentally, it was a Monday, which is my normal weekly range day anyway).  I decided that it was time to take a "veteran" rifle that I have owned for almost 13 years but had not yet fired:  a Krag-Jorgensen Model 1899 Carbine.

After the Civil War, the U.S. Army's rifle was a converted muzzleloading musket that had been modified to use a metallic cartridge.  It became known as the "Springfield Trapdoor" because the conversion added a mechanism at the breech that opened up like a trap door to load the cartridge and to extract the fired case.  It was thus a single-shot rifle, and used black powder in the cartridges.

Meanwhile, European armies were adopting repeating rifles that used smaller caliber bullets and the newly-invented smokeless powder, a huge leap forward in technology that provided significant advantages.  The U.S. Army conducted tests in the 1880s and early 1890s, and adopted a modification of a Norwegian rifle designed by Ole Krag and Erik Jorgensen, which became known as the (surprise!) Krag-Jorgensen rifle.  It was a bolt action that used a new .30 caliber cartridge that became known as either the ".30 Government" or the ".30-40 Krag".  (The .30-40 designation was a holdover from black powder days, when cartridges were given a two-part numerical designation, the first being the caliber of the bullet and the second being the number of grains of black powder it contained.)

This was the U.S. Army's first magazine-fed small caliber repeating rifle that used smokeless powder, and is the earliest rifle of the era in which I have any collector interest.  It went through several iterations and improvements, the major models being the Model 1892 rifle (first fielded in 1894), the Model 1892 Carbine (a shortened version for cavalry troops), the Model 1896 Rifle and Model 1896 Carbine (this was the carbine used by Theodore Roosevelt's 1st Volunteer Cavalry - the famed "Rough Riders" of the Spanish-American War), the Model 1898 Rifle and Model 1898 Carbine (the final refinement of the mechanical action) and the Model 1899 Carbine (the final carbine version).

In the late 1990s I had owned a beautiful Model 1898 Rifle that I bought on eBay in the early days before they decided guns were “bad" and stopped allowing them to be sold (thus allowing Gunbroker.com and others to fill that void!)  Sadly, I had to let that go in favor of other priorities, and the Krag remained a gap in my collection for several years.  I started looking for one again when I moved to Fort Bragg in 2011. I had decided that I'd really like to have a carbine rather than the rifle, as the rifle is very long and I thought the carbine would be handier and more fun to shoot.  After examining a lot of fakes that had been produced by cutting down rifles to carbine length (apparently the carbines are more popular), I finally found a nice example of a Model 1899 carbine for sale.  

I checked my reference sources, and it looked correct in all the key aspects (serial number range, correct stock and handguard, and correct carbine sight).  I wasn't sure about the sling swivel, but it was the only substantially correct one I'd seen after several months of looking.  The clincher came when I checked the date of manufacture based on the serial number: November 1901, the same month and year that the U.S. Army War College was established.  This was in February 2012, the same month I was notified that I had been selected to attend the Army War College. I decided that happy coincidence would make this my "War College Carbine", and I bought it.  It looked great hanging on my wall for many years, but I had never taken the time to get it out to the range and fire it.  Today would be the day.

I had just learned something from my collector reference book "The American Krag Rifle and Carbine" that lent the occasion an interesting historical twist:  When the Army began fielding the Krag-Jorgensen in October 1894, the very first unit to receive them was the 4th Infantry Regiment at Fort Sherman, Idaho. The original site of Fort Sherman is now largely occupied by a city park and the campus of North Idaho College, and the main street running from there through downtown Coeur d'Alene is named Sherman Avenue.  I was about to fire my first shots from my personal Krag-Jorgensen almost exactly 130 years after the first Krags in the U.S. Army were issued to the soldiers stationed right here in Coeur d'Alene!

My "War College Carbine" at the range in Coeur d'Alene.

I had purchased a small amount of factory ammunition as well as a quantity of empty cartridge cases and the necessary reloading dies, but had never loaded any ammunition for it.  The original U.S. Army load used a 220 gr. round-nose bullet, but all the commercial ammunition I could find used 180 gr. softpoints.  This makes sense, because after the rifles were replaced by the Model 1903 and withdrawn from service, they were sold to civilians in the 1920s and 1930s and became very popular hunting rifles.  They are not nearly as popular now as they were two or three generations ago, so the ammo companies only make limited production runs, typically once a year right before hunting season.  I had six 20-round boxes of Remington commercial ammunition - one bought in the 1990s and priced at $14.95, two bought a little later at $16.95, and three that I bought at the same time as the carbine for $49.95 (!)  You can bet that if I shoot this rifle much more, I'll be loading my own ammunition.

I had a collector-oriented reference book, but no books or references on shooting the rifle, particularly how the sights were regulated. For this trip, I just wanted to make sure it would fire safely, and "get it on paper".  If all went well, I'd return to the range at some later date and actually put it through its paces.  I set up an NRA B8 pistol target at 25 yards and planned to fire from the bench.  For the first shot, I stood off to the side and fired into the berm just to make sure the bolt would hold - this design has only one bolt lug, so there is no safety margin if it turns out that lug has a crack in it.  All went well, and the rifle stayed in one piece, so I sat down behind it to see where it would shoot.

I fired shots #1 through #5 from the bench, making minute adjustments to windage to try to get it centered.  I finally decided it was as good as I was going to get, given my eyesight and the increasing difficulty I have bringing carbine-length open sights into focus. (it was also late in the day and starting to get dark).  I let a friend fire a shot, and then I fired shots #6, #7, and #8 from a standing position.   I was very pleased with the results:

Two nines and a ten, standing offhand, with sights I don't really know how to adjust properly.  I'll take it for now, lol.

Now that I've finally broken the ice and fired this carbine, I really want to learn more about it and get out to shoot it some more.  Ian at "Forgotten Weapons" has a pdf version of the Army manual for the rifle available here:   U.S. Army Manual for Krag-Jorgensen Rifle and Carbine . I've ordered a reproduction of this manual so I'll have a printed version, and will be on the hunt for a vintage original for my collection.  The next time I take this carbine out, I'll know more about the sighting system and will shoot at actual service rifle targets.  But for now, I'm content to have gotten this 123-year-old veteran off the wall and out to the range in honor of Veterans Day 2024.

Mood:  Happy

Music:  Pat Benatar, "Hit Me With Your  Best Shot"

A Hike in the Selkirks - Beehive Lake

 Placeholder post for when I have time to write about it.

A week in Montana

 Placeholder post for when I have time to write about it.

9/11/01 plus 23

The events of September 11, 2001 changed my life in varied and unexpected ways.  Like most Americans of the time, I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and how I felt when I learned of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  There was a lot of pain, suffering, and shock that day, but also incredible heroism and a sense of national unity and patriotism that I have seldom experienced in my lifetime.

Now, 23 years later, we are in the midst of an intensely divisive election, and an entire generation has grown up that has no memory of 9/11/01 and scant awareness of or appreciation for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  I think it's important to remember, and so each year on 9/11 I do something to commemorate the day.

This year I decided to take my go-to home defense rifle and web gear out of the closet and out to the range for a brief practice session.  I planned to shoot at steel targets at 15 and 25 yards, and shoot a few practice drills.  It's always good to practice, but my primary purpose today was to clear away the current distractions from my mind and remember the events of 9/11 and its aftermath.

My rifle and web gear.  The boonie hat is USGI, from my first mobilization in 2006.  The targets are at 15 and 25 yards.

The rifle is a run-of-the-mill DPMS Panther 5.56mm AR-15 in civilian M4 configuration (semiauto only, 16" barrel).  I replaced the stock front handguard with one that accepts M-Lok accessories, and have it set up with a Trijicon MRO red dot sight, a Crimson Trace MVF-515 front grip that incorporates a flashlight and green laser, a Troy flip-up rear iron sight for backup, and a Condor 2-point sling.   I was shooting PMC 5.56mm with 55 gr. bullets - standard MILSPEC M193 ball.

My targets were an 8" steel disk at 15 yards and a 12"x16" steel silhouette at 25 yards. The silhouette target is a "hostage target".  It includes a 5" steel disk on a pivot behind the head - when you hit it, it flips around to the other side.  I have this painted red to distinguish it from the white-painted silhouette. The silhouette represents a hostage, and the red disk is the bad guy's head.  The idea is to hit the bad guy without injuring the hostage.  This target seemed appropriate given my reason for being there today.

I fired my first shot at 0846, the time the first plane hit the south tower of the World Trade Center on 9/11.

I started off shooting at the hostage target, single shots from a standing unsupported position using the red dot sight.  For the first ten shots I had the red dot at full power, and found that it almost obscured the red disk.  That string resulted in a respectable 8/10 solid hits on the "bad guy", with two misses.  Seeing a dark mark on the white silhouette, I initially thought I had hit the hostage with one shot, but closer examination revealed that this was just spatter from the hits on the disk.  Unfortunately I didn't take a photo of the target at this point.

After this I fired a few shots at the 8" disk, then switched to some transition drills, shooting two shots at one target followed by two at the other, all in close succession.  As I accelerated the pace of these drills to "controlled pair" speed, I began to miss the second shot more often than I'd like.  Examination showed most shots on the disk were low to start with, so I suspect I was pulling the second shot even lower by overcompensating as I pulled the rifle back on target for the second shot.

For the final drill, I went back to the hostage target and fired off my remaining rounds one at a time.  This time I turned down the MRO intensity setting from six to four. The lower-intensity red dot was much smaller and crisper, which helped. I wasn't shooting rapid fire per se, but I wasn't shooting like the standing slow fire stage in a service rifle match, either.  It was something approaching "Rifleman's Cadence", except that I wasn't in a stable position so I had to re-aquire the sight picture rather than rely on the sling and my breathing to bring me back on target after each shot. 

This time I did slightly better - 20/24 shots hit the "bad guy", with 4 misses.  I think I may have clipped the hostage's shoulder with one of the misses, but I'm not sure as this was after I had already been deliberately shooting at the silhouette. 

The hostage target with the "bad guy's head" disk to the right. It flips back and forth with each hit. The effects of bullet spatter can be seen on the white silhouette.

Same target with the disk to the left. I may have clipped the hostage's shoulder with one shot.  

The  8" disk at 15 yards.  The shots are clustered low, so I think my misses probably went even lower.

The net result is that I feel very confident firing shots at one target, but I need more practice on transitions between targets as well as on rapid follow-up shots.  

I packed up the car and left the range to head home, and pulled out the gate at 0937, the time the third plane hit the Pentagon on 9/11.   During the beautiful drive home out of the mountains and past Fernan Lake, I reflected on how fortunate I am to have come through that period of history with everything intact to live a wonderful life in retirement. Many were not so fortunate, having died in either the attacks or the rescue efforts, or while fighting to defend our nation and preserve our freedom.

Never Forget.

Mood: Pensive

Music: Darryl Worley, Have You Forgotten.

A week in the Selkirk Mountains

Since we moved to Idaho, I have spent as much time as I could exploring its very extensive areas of undeveloped backcountry, including wilderness areas, National Forests, and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land. Because we live in the Panhandle area of North Idaho, this has always meant some fairly long-distance travel southwards in order to access these areas.  This year I decided to spend some time exploring closer to home.

From 14-20 August I traveled through the Selkirk Mountains of North Idaho.  I have known they were there and had heard about them, but for some reason had never yet spent any significant amount of time up there.  The week turned out to be very interesting, and opened up a host of possibilities for future excursions.

The Selkirks extend well into Washington state and north into Canada, but for this trip I confined myself primarily to the portion of the range that lies in Idaho.  It is the wettest mountain range in Idaho, and has areas that are classified as temperate rain forest.  According to what I read, the most scenic area is the "Selkirk Crest", the range of peaks that runs north-south just west of US-95 and east of Priest Lake, the third-largest lake in Idaho. The rest of the U.S. portion of the Selkirk range is west of Priest Lake, running into Washington state.  

This area falls under the administrative management of several different agencies, including the Kaniksu National Forest (now consolidated under the Idaho Panhandle National Forests), Priest Lake State Forest, Priest Lake State Park and the Idaho Department of Lands (an agency that manages Idaho Trust Endowment lands to help fund public education  and other state institutions).  Each of these agencies manages the land under their care quite differently, and my trip had some interesting wrinkles as a result.

My primary guides for this trip were my ever-present Idaho Atlas and Gazetteer, the USFS map of the Kaniksu National Forest, and the book Trails of the Wild Selkirks.  I would have loved to have had the BLM 1:100,000 scale topographic maps of the area (Sandpoint and Bonner's Ferry), but unfortunately they were out of stock at the time I tried to order them.  I also learned while writing this paragraph that the book referenced above has been updated - my copy was the 2014 Second Edition.  So although it was helpful, some of the information was definitely out of date.  Now I understand at least some of the inconsistencies! (And have already ordered an updated copy for future use).  

As it turned out, once I had found my way to the general area, the National Forest Map and the subscription iPhone map in OnX Backcountry Elite were the most helpful in navigating away from the main roads. OnX provides the most up-to-date information and is very useful for near-distance route finding and confirming location.  But for longer-range planning, I still prefer the paper map - the iPhone just doesn't give the high-level overview necessary for looking several miles or days ahead. 

Wednesday 14 August

After my traditional farewell breakfast with Teresa, I headed north on US-95 at about 1200 towards Sandpoint, then continued onwards to Bonner's Ferry.  As I approached Bonner's Ferry, I was greeted by an unusual billboard:

No doubt about where I am.

When I mentioned this very large billboard to a gas station attendant in Bonner's Ferry, he said "There's a story behind that sign", and proceeded to tell me.  Apparently when the current owner bought the property, the billboard was already there, but was blank.  He wanted to remove it, but found that it was owned by a third party who had a contractual right to leave it there but had not been using it.  Unable remove it, he decided to put up the "Trump Country" sign and see what happened.  So far, nothing from the billboard's owner, and if anyone complains, he just says "Sorry, it's not my billboard."  😂

After fueling up in Bonner's Ferry, I took a brief walk through downtown just to see what it was like.  I saw three bicyclists sitting at an outdoor cafe, and asked them about the maps they were using.  Detecting an accent, I asked where they were from.  One of them replied "Germany", to which I replied "Ehrlich! Woher? (Really!  Where from?), to which they replied "Munich".  I told them I'd been an exchange student in Munich in high school (Max Born Gymnasium in Unterpfaffenhofen-Germering).  We had a nice conversation for a few minutes.  They had come from Calgary, and were on their way to the Pacific coast and from there south.  Quite an adventure!  I wished them "Schöne Reise" und "Viel Vergnügen", and we parted company in opposite directions.

I continued on, intending to drive to the northernmost access roads into the mountains from the east, and then gradually work my way south.  Along the way, I was amused to see this banner posted by a private driveway off the main road:

Off Grid Doc - visit us at OffGridDoc.com... 😂

I missed my turn off US-95 and found myself at the Canadian border, from where I turned around and went back south about 18 miles to Idaho Highway 1, my intended turnoff west into the mountains.  As it turned out this was a good thing, because on the way back south I saw these informational historic markers.  The afternoon sun made them difficult to photograph, but they are still legible.

This time I found my turnoff with no trouble, and headed west into the mountains. The Kootenai River runs north-south through a wide valley east of the Selkirk Crest.  I don't know what all crops they grow there, but one of the major ones is hops (for beer).  

This beached boat reminded me of the SS Minnow (IYKYK)

Soon after crossing the Kootenai River I entered an area managed by yet another collection of entities and agencies.

I think it's neat that so many different groups can cooperate to help preserve natural resources and recreational opportunities.

I am not much of a shotgunner and have never hunted birds, but I understand that it's challenging and fun.

Examination of the book and the map led me to select "Hidden Lake" as my first destination.  It was a fairly long drive into the mountains to get to the trailhead, but looked like a relatively short hike up to the lake, with a chance to hike farther up to a nearby peak with good views of the surrounding area.  Along the way I ran across an interesting little installation.  A turnoff from the main road led to a parking area with a restroom and a paved path to a couple of picnic tables. It turned out to be the site of a hydroelectric dam, with the park-like amenities apparently provided as a public service.

I don't think I've ever run across a facility quite like this.

The road continued from the parking area down to a gated facility.

This plaque explains the hydroelectric installation.

This notice posted in the parking lot made me feel sad and thoughtful. 

I continued on up the road, heading toward the trailhead to Hidden Lake.  There were numerous turnoffs onto other side roads, but I decided to investigate the trailhead first, then consider where to set up camp. The trailhead had room for perhaps a half dozen cars at the most.  It was already occupied by one truck.  The book said it was a very popular "family fun" (read "easy") hike, so I wasn't surprised to see a car there even mid-week.  I *was* a bit surprised by the agency to which it belonged, and wondered if it was there for business or pleasure.

This was far enough from the border that I'm pretty sure this was just somebody using his work truck to take a pleasure hike.  But who knows?

I backtracked down the road a little way and turned downhill onto a partially-overgrown two-track road that seemed likely to lead to a possible campsite. About a quarter mile into the forest, I came to a nice clearing that was just perfect - unfortunately, it was already occupied.

My prospective campsite was already occupied by a small herd of cattle.

The cattle were completely unfazed by my Jeep, even when I honked the horn and yelled at them out the window.

There are many places in Idaho's National Forests where cattle are allowed to free-graze, and I had passed other cattle on the way up so this was not a complete surprise.  I did wonder how they had gotten this high, though, because I had also crossed several cattle guards on the road, and thought I was past the area where they were supposed to be.  I decided that whether they were supposed to be here or not, I needed the clearing more than they did, so I turned my Jeep around, positioned it close to where I thought I'd camp, and got out to chase them away.  Loud exclamations of "HYAAH!" accompanied by vigorous waving of my arms had some effect, but they were very reluctant to leave. They would run off into the woods, but then immediately return as soon as I walked away.  

I started picking up fist-sized rocks and then charging directly at them shouting "GET OUT OF HERE!", and throwing the rocks at their midsections as hard as I could.  The rocks made a very satisfying "thump" when they connected, and had a more lasting effect than just shouting and waving my arms.  They finally got the message and moved off further into the woods.  They were not happy about having been displaced from their little patch of grass, and their loud, plaintive cries of "MOO-OO!" continued all through the evening until dark, when they finally quieted down. 

I set up my campsite in the usual pattern.  I now have this down to a very consistent system, so that it takes me less than 30 minutes to be completely set up, and just a little longer than this if I need to put up some kind of a roof.  I have now started taking both the Roadhouse Tarp and the Slumber Shack tent on all my trips, so that I can be flexible in response to the weather.  But I still prefer to set up in the open whenever rain seems unlikely.  It was fairly late and I was pretty tired by the time I got set up, so I had an easy dinner of canned beef stew, sat with a drink reading for awhile, and went to bed under the stars.

One change on this trip is that I went back to my two-burner Coleman stove.  It leaves less work space on the table, but is much more efficient and economical than the cartridge stoves I had been using recently.

Thursday 15 August

I spent a somewhat restless night, probably because I had finished up my thermos of coffee while making dinner.  But there are worse ways to spend a restless night than sleeping under a clear sky filled with brilliant stars.  I was able to see the planets Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune, although I took Mars on faith since my app showed that it was either in front of or behind Jupiter from my perspective. I also saw the constellations Ursa Major (and Minor), Cassiopeia, Orion, Pegasus, and a couple of others I couldn't remember to write down in the morning.  The night was cool but not too cold, with a very heavy dew.  I awoke at 0500, and it didn't take me very long to decide that I needed a day of rest and would just stay here for a day before moving on.  I enjoyed a long, lazy morning doing a few small maintenance and repair chores but mostly just relaxing.

Sometime during the day, I heard a bird calling and thought "that sounds like a jay".  Soon I caught sight of a bird in a tree across the clearing.  As I stood up to reach for my binoculars, it darted out of sight into the trees.  I could still hear it calling, and as it flew in and out of the trees I got some photos.  I didn't recognize it at the time, but subsequently looked it up and found that it was a Canada Jay. 

Jays are notorious camp robbers, so I was careful about setting things down while this one was in the neighborhood.

Later in the morning, I set up my portable sun shade and put out some steel spinner targets to shoot at.  I had brought along my little Ruger SP101 .22LR revolver to practice with.  The SP101 is a very solid, well-made double action revolver. The .22LR version has a 4.2" barrel and an eight-shot cylinder.  It is very handy and light, but I never enjoyed shooting it much because the trigger seemed a bit too heavy compared to my Ruger Old Model Single Six.  I've shot many hundreds (thousands?) of rounds through the latter revolver, including several years of competition at my club in Michigan.  It was so accurate and so much fun to shoot that it was hard to think of taking a different .22LR revolver to the field.  But the SP101 appealed to me because it is very similar to my Bicentennial edition Security Six in .357 Magnum, and I thought it would make a good platform for inexpensive practice.

Over the course of this trip I fired something like 500-600 rounds through the SP101.  I soon found that the trigger had smoothed out considerably, and I was able to fire it well in both single- and double-action modes, keeping the spinners in motion fairly consistently at distances from 7-18 yards. It just needed some more breaking in than I had given it up to that point.  I carried it cross-draw in an old S&W Model 21-04 leather holster that I had rescued from the bargain bin at my favorite local gun store.  Also on that old leather belt is a top-opening .22LR cartridge pouch from Uncle Mike's that holds one box of .22LR for fast and easy reloading.  I've had that pouch for at least 30 years but it seems to be out of production, so here's something that looks almost identical: a Crosman Pellet Pouch. The whole rig fits easily over the standard military web belt on which I carry my Kimber Camp Guard 10mm. I am confident that it will now be a very consistent companion on my future camping trips - it's way too much fun to leave at home!

After a relaxing afternoon in camp alternately shooting and reading, I started thinking about where to go the following day.  I decided to go ahead and hike up to Hidden Lake and beyond there to Red Top mountain, from which there was supposed to be a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains.  I spent part of the evening preparing my pack for the hike.  It began to look like rain, so before I went to bed I put up my Roadhouse Tarp just in case.  Sure enough, it started raining about 1945.  It was a comforting feeling to go to sleep with the sound of rain on the tarp, while remaining warm and dry underneath.

Friday 16 August

I awoke at 0600 after a good night's sleep. The forecast called for thunderstorms, so I decided it was not a good day to hike up a mountain.  It wasn't too hard to convince myself to spend a day in camp, as I was still enjoying just relaxing.  At about 0930 it began to rain in earnest, so I was glad to have stayed put.

I spent the better part of the morning reorganizing my backpack, asking myself whether each piece of equipment was really necessary for an overnight.  I am very prone to "I'll take it just in case" syndrome, and my pack is usually too heavy as a result.  I got it to where I felt comfortable and set it aside for the next day's hike. The rest of my day was spent mostly under the roof, alternately reading and doing some target practice.  It cooled down considerably with the change in weather, and I put on Smartwool 150 top and bottom to conserve heat, as I was pretty sedentary all day.

Partway through the day, the wind picked up and began blowing rain into the back of my shelter, which was open to the west.  I had brought along an old backpacking tarp with the intention of using it to extend the protected "porch" area of the Slumbershack, but it turned out to be equally useful in creating a wind/weather break for the tarp.  No more target practice out the back door, however!

  

My old backpacking tarp made a good extension to keep out the wind-driven rain.

 I decided that a day sitting under the tarp in the rain merited a steak dinner, so I grilled a steak for dinner and spent the remainder of the evening reading.

Saturday 17 August

This was a long, eventful day.  After breakfast, I packed everything up in the Jeep, expecting to hike up to Hidden Lake and then beyond to Red Top Mountain.  I didn't mind leaving the Jeep there, but I didn't want to leave everything set up in the campsite.  I figured that when I returned, I would probably just get in the Jeep and drive off to find a new place, since I'd already been here for  two nights.  When everything was just about packed up, I turned on the Jeep for some reason and was surprised when all it made was a strange clicking noise for awhile, then nothing.  DUH!  I couldn't believe I had not thought of it, but for two full days and nights in camp, I had not started the Jeep at all.  Using the lights and charging the iPhone, the iPad, and the Thermacell had depleted the battery far more than I expected, and it was stone dead.

I couldn't leave with it in that state, so I unpacked enough to get out my emergency car starter battery pack, hoping that it would be as simple as that.  Fortunately that was all it was, so once the Jeep was started, I sat and let it run for about an hour.  I had learned recently that it takes about 20 minutes of running the alternator to recharge the battery back up from one instance of starting the engine.  I wanted to make sure it had a good charge, and also to recharge the emergency battery, which holds enough power for about two engine starts.  I was not about to turn off the Jeep until that was fully charged again!

The little green tool kit that came with the Jeep has a ratchet and several Torx heads for the hardtop and soft top.  I always wondered why it also came with a socket.  Now I know - it fits the battery terminals.

While the Jeep was running, a Chevy S10 pickup pulled into the area where I had camped.  Bob the rancher was looking for his cows! It turned out they were not supposed to be there, but had somehow gotten around the cattle guard.  I told him what I'd seen and showed him my photos.  He confirmed that they were his cows.  I hadn't heard or seen them after the first day, but he didn't seem concerned - he said "they'll come home when they're ready".  

I *finally* got started up to the trailhead around noon, but with some trepidation.  I had stayed in the campsite a day longer than I expected, and it was now the weekend.  Predictably, I had heard activity above me on the road that branched off to the trailhead, and I wondered how crowded it would be. I really don't like being around people when I am in the outdoors, and I go out of my way to avoid them. When I got up there, the trailhead parking area was jammed with half a dozen cars.  Between that and the events of the morning, I lost my desire to hike up to the lake, and decided to just return to my Jeep and move on to another place.  So I walked back down the hill, tossed the pack in the back, and drove off.

The topology of this part of the Selkirks is such that you can't really drive extended distances in remote backcountry like you can in other parts of Idaho.  On the east side where I was, there are a number of roads heading up into the mountains to trailheads, and those trails lead to various mountain peaks or alpine lakes.  But there is generally no place to go from there but back out the way you came in. I therefore decided to skip that entire portion of the mountain range and leave it for later day trips or short overnights.  It's an easy drive up from Coeur d'Alene, and I could see the potential for many future short trips to scenic destinations.  For now, I decided to drive back south through Bonner's Ferry to Sandpoint, turn west on US 2, and then go north on Idaho 57 past Priest Lake and into the Priest Lake State Forest.

On my way back south through Bonner's Ferry, I stopped for gas and also at Safeway for a couple bags of ice. In line at the in-store Starbucks, I saw a young woman in a sun dress with a holstered revolver on her hip. I still notice things like this even after five years of living here, but it's cool that none of the locals seem to give it a second thought - it's just natural, and doesn't seem at all out of place.  

Further on down the road, I stopped into an interesting-looking store that I'd passed on the way up: Mountain Traders in Elmira.   It has the flavor of an old-time trading post, with a little of everything: consignment goods, homemade jam, soap and other crafts, a home school section, etc. - just the kind of place you'd expect to find in rural North Idaho.  As I was walking back to my Jeep, I saw a young man with an Amish-style beard coming out of one of the buildings.  I think he must have worked there or been part of the family.  What caught my attention besides his beard was the M1911 pistol he carried in a skeleton holster on his hip (naturally in Condition One).  I hadn't said anything to the young woman in Safeway, but I had to comment to him about how much I love this state and peoples' attitude toward firearms. He smiled and said: "Idaho - where 30% of the people are armed 100% of the time!" 😀👍

Today's travel was a beautiful scenic drive into country I'd never explored before, but a very different atmosphere from the places I usually go. It was comparatively jam-packed with people, some in their private homes and cabins but mostly camping in the various campgrounds.  I knew this area was a popular destination, but I was not prepared for how hard it was to find solitude.

I came to Priest Lake fairly late in the day.  It is beautiful, and not hard to understand why it is a popular destination.  I had a hard time getting a photo that didn't have boats in it.

Close examination of the map combined with the guidebook led me to pick a road to travel up into the mountains that would get me someplace near "Lookout Mountain", a promising location for a day hike. By this time I was in the Priest Lake State Forest, shown in purple on my USFS map (vs. green for National Forest lands).  As I drove up the road I had selected, three things surprised me.  One was that almost every side road leading off of the "main" road (not really much of a road) was deliberately blocked off with large boulders. The second was the number of areas that had been clear-cut by loggers. The third was that despite the fact that it was as out-of-the-way a route as I could pick off of the map, a really astonishing number of cars and trucks were going in both directions.  Because it was late in the day, most were going out, but several were also traveling in the same direction I was.  I thought perhaps they were picking huckleberries, as this was the height of the season. I began to despair of finding anyplace to camp, as there was simply no place to turn off.

I finally decided to try the road/Jeep trail that the map showed leading up to Lookout Mountain. Although it too was blocked by boulders, it looked as though I might be able to squeeze through between two of them if I was very careful.  Creeping up the very rough track in low range, I held my breath waiting for the *SCREEEECH* of stone on metal, but it never came.  Once through the boulder blockade, it was a rough crawl uphill for a few hundred feet until I got around a corner and out of sight.  I found a sort-of flattish area, and since it was getting dark I decided this would be my camp.

I turned the Jeep around, and set up camp directly by the Jeep trail.  It didn't feel like rain so I didn't bother with a roof.  It wasn't really very level, so I had to use a shovel to dig out places for the uphill legs of my cot so that I wouldn't spend the night sliding downhill.  Every time I got up, I had to make sure of my footing and my balance before trying to do anything.  It was not my most optimal campsite, but I made it work.  It was a beautiful clear night, and once again I enjoyed identifying some constellations (Hercules, Sagittarius, Lyra, and Cygnus) and watching for shooting stars and satellites.

Sunday, 18 August

I woke up at 0500 but lazed in bed until 0545, then made a hearty breakfast of eggs and corned beef hash. I decided to pack up the Jeep and prepare my day pack, then decide whether to hike up Lookout Mountain. The Jeep trail that I had camped on was the old access road up to the top.  It was not the trail described in the guidebook - the access road was on the south side of the mountain, but the approach road to the trailhead as well as most of the trail were on the west side.  According to the map, the two merged just below the summit.   A closer examination of the map decided the issue - the summit with the old lookout is at 6,727 ft. altitude, and my camp was at 3,350 ft.  The official trailhead was shown at 5,320 ft., meaning it would be a 1,400 ft. climb from there vs. 3,400 ft. from where I was.  Easy decision!   I started the Jeep and headed back down the mountain about 1045.

Once again, I was astonished at how many cars were headed up this rough and remote road.  While easing past one of them at a wide spot in the road, I asked them where everybody was going.  They told me there was a "natural water slide" up the hill about a mile or two, and they were headed there.  Later on, when I stopped in at the Priest Lake State Park to use a restroom and confirm that I didn't have to pay a fee to use the park, the ranger there told me (rather regretfully) that there were some natural rock formations with water running down them, and that "someone put it on the internet and spoiled it - now it's overrun with people".  So much for my having picked a remote location off the map!

This is the first time I had ever used a state park in Idaho, and there were signs all over the place that said "Fee Area", with warnings about how they checked and enforced the fees.  I have a veteran's pass but I wasn't sure what what it covered and what it did not.  When I asked the rangers about it, they acted as though they'd never seen one before, and weren't sure what to do or whether I was supposed to display it in the window.  They suggested that I put it on the dashboard in case a ranger went by while I was parked someplace, which seemed reasonable to me.

If mine is only #1273, perhaps it's not surprising they hadn't seen one before.

As I drove through the campground, I marveled at how people could go to all the trouble to come here and "camp".   It was a winding asphalt road, with short paved drives turning off to campsites on both sides.  It was shaded by trees but had very little undergrowth.  I passed campsite after campsite, with people sitting in chairs and at picnic tables or cooking and doing other camp chores, all within yards of the road and each other.  The campsites were closer together than houses in the average suburban neighborhood!  It was bizarre.  I thought perhaps people feel the need for the security of others close around them or something.  (I also wondered if this is what people think of when they hear that I am going camping, lol.)  

After passing through the campground, I drove through the parking lot of a beach on Priest Lake, and it was then that I got a sense of why people might want to come here.  It was a nice, broad sandy beach, with restrooms and other amenities.  People were swimming, sunbathing, playing in the sand - all the kinds of things you'd expect to see at a beach, and all within walking distance of the campground.  So for a family weekend letting the kids play in the sand and swim, and perhaps taking a scenic drive or a hike, I could better understand the attraction.  But it sure isn't an attraction for me!

I continued on out of the park and through the Priest Lake State Forest.  The roads there are not nearly as well-marked as they are on National Forest lands.  This is consistent with the fact that while they are open to the public, recreational use is only secondary - their primary purpose is to generate revenue for the state of Idaho.  I passed numerous logging operations and areas where the forest had been clear-cut, with piles of logs awaiting pickup.

Some heavy equipment operator had a sense of humor.  🙂

Logs awaiting pickup.

I saw some beautiful views on the way up to the trailhead, but the best was yet to come.

I drove up the mountain as far as possible until the road ended.  There was a perfect place to back my Jeep in to camp, and I could see where the trail headed off into the woods.  I was kind of surprised that there were no directional signs or any indication that this was the trail to Lookout Mountain, but I was confident in my location and proceeded to set up camp.  While I was setting up my camp, I was surprised when four people came walking out of the woods headed uphill past me.  As it turned out, the actual trailhead was down below (where I later saw a partially-obscured sign pointing to the trail).  We talked for a few minutes, and the they headed down the trail to Lookout Lake, beyond which our guidebook (they had the same one) said the trail continued up the mountain to the lookout. There was another trail from where I was camped that headed off eastward, but no indication of where it might lead.

I finished setting up camp, and since it was getting late in the day and there were already people on the trail, I decided to relax for the afternoon and wait to hike up until the next morning, when it would be cooler and I'd have a head start on anyone else who might want to come.  Since the following day was Monday, the likelihood that I'd be alone would be substantially improved.  

After a couple of hours, the people came walking back by.  They reported that the lake was an easy hike down the trail, but that they'd been completely unable to find any trail from there up to the summit.  Apparently the guidebook was wrong or the trail had changed. They had brief discussion among themselves about whether to take the other trail, but since it was late in the day and hot, they decided to hike back down to their car and go home.  In contrast to my usual attitude, I was very glad that they had come by, because they had effectively scouted the trail for me, and prevented me from wasting a lot of time.  I resolved to skip the lake, and to take the alternative trail in the morning.  I spent about an hour picking huckleberries ending up with a full stomach, purple fingertips. and a cupful to take home to Teresa. After a relaxing evening, I went to be about 2130.

One for Teresa, one for me, one for Teresa, two for me...😋

Monday 19 August

The night was clear and cool - just chilly enough to make me appreciate my sleeping bag.  I got up at 0545, and after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and toast I cleaned up, broke camp, and packed the Jeep.  My plan was to hike up to the lookout, enjoy the view, then come back down and immediately move on and head west around the north end of Priest Lake.  This would be my first hike using my new daypack, a Badlands Superday hunting pack.  For about fifteen years, I've used a Camelbak day pack that I bought at the PX.  It's a pretty good pack, but has a limited capacity, and I've wanted something a little larger.  I spent some time looking at various alternatives, and settled on this one for the mix of features, capacity, multiple pockets, and carrying comfort.  They also make a very cool binocular case and a set of connector straps to hold it onto the pack.  I didn't have this yet, but today's hike with my binoculars bouncing around on my chest would help me to decide to pick one up when I got home.

At 5491 ft. my campsite was a bit higher than the official trailhead, so my hike was effectively already started, lol.  It was a pleasant mountain hike on a pretty decent trail through shady woods, switching back from time to time as I climbed the fairly gentle grade.  Parts of the trail were dirt, but much of it was rocky.  I began to catch fleeting glimpses through the trees of Priest Lake off to the south, a tantalizing preview of the breathtaking views I would see from higher up the mountain.

A typical mountain trail.

Intermittent glimpses hinted at the view from the top. I like the way that the new branches sprouting from the fallen tree grow straight up. 

I didn't keep my normal detailed notes of rest stops and altitudes, but I had started at 0945 and took three rests on the way up.  Each time, I was surrounded by huckleberry bushes bursting with ripe berries.  It was actually hard to sit down anywhere that *didn't* have huckleberries, and I ended up with purples stains on some of my clothes and gear. But I hardly cared - as I rested and sipped water, I could reach out in every direction and pick handfuls of them without even having to sit up!  It was Huckleberry Heaven, lol.

As I got closer to the summit, the trail became steeper and more rocky.  

A Stairway to Heaven.

There's more than one flight of stairs, lol.

The last 400 feet of elevation gain were on the old access road, which for some reason went basically straight up with no switchbacks.  It was a steep, heads-down slog for the last leg, with nothing pleasant or redeeming about it except for the relief of finally glimpsing the lookout platform above me when I neared the top.

OMG, are you f*ing kidding me?

Finally!

The first thing I did after reaching the summit was to drink down a pint of water with this mixed in.  I needed it!

At the summit there are two lookout structures - the original restored building from 1929, and a larger, taller steel tower from the 1970s.  The latter looks like the same design as the one I'd visited on the Magruder Corridor, but in this case the building at the top has been removed, and only the platform remains intact. I sat down in the shade of the platform to eat my lunch before ascending to take in the view. 

This sign was on the third step, and repeated again a bit higher up.   I was very, very careful, testing each step before putting my weight on it, making sure I always had a firm grip with both hands before moving a foot to the next step, etc.  There were a couple of dicey steps, but mostly it was very solid.  I suppose they have to put up warnings like this, but they can hardly expect people to hike all the way up here and not climb up to the observation platform!

The view south.  The distinctive formation of Chimney Rock is visible along the Selkirk Crest.

Looking southwest over Priest Lake.  It is slightly smaller than Lake Coeur d'Alene (20 miles long vs. 25), but is much less developed and mostly surrounded by protected public lands.

Looking west past Upper Priest Lake into Washington.  Note the rectangular clear-cut areas just to the south and east of the lake, as well as to the north. 

The view to the northwest.

Looking north.  Many of the mountains visible in the distance are in Canada.

Looking northeast past the historic lookout building. 

Looking east. The third peak from the left is known as the Lion's Head.  From this direction, I actually thought the rounded formation just above the center of the photo looked more like a lion's head (see below).

This looked more like a lion to me - crouching down, facing to the left, brow furrowed and jaws open. 

Closing the circle - the view to the southeast.

In examining the map, I had noticed that the Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail (PNT) passes right along the same route I had hiked up to the lookout.  Now, if you think I'm adventurous, read this account of another person's hike that I found while looking up the Lion's Head.  Ahh, to be young again!   https://twigadventures.com/pnt-day-15-lions-head/.

This sign was posted on the door of the old lookout building.  I'm grateful that volunteer groups like this take the time and make the effort to preserve such places.

Although the text is somewhat dated (the lookout is no longer in active use), this site gives an interesting account of the history of fire lookouts in Idaho: Lookout Mountain.

I started back down the mountain towards my Jeep at 1330.  I was grateful to have switched from my old walking stick to trekking poles on the steep in initial portion of the descent.  I stopped to rest a couple of times on the way down, and got to the point where I literally could not eat another huckleberry (who'd a thunk it?).  I reached the Jeep at 1505 and drove off shortly after that. 

I drove to the north and west around the north end of Upper Priest Lake, exploring side roads (when they were open).  I found myself getting tired, and started looking for a place to camp.  I settled on a spot at the end of a short side road, partway up Caribou Hill.  I didn't like the fact that my Jeep was visible from the road, but it was about 200 yards away, downhill, and right at a turn in the main road.  I didn't imagine that most people driving by (if anyone did) would even glance upwards in my direction.  It turned out to be a very rewarding campsite, with a great view to the east and southeast.

Looking south-southeast from my campsite, the structures on Lookout Mountain are just visible, reflecting the late afternoon sun.

I decided it was time for a bath and clean clothes, so I heated water, laid everything out on the table, and put my space blanket down as a bath mat.  Solitude gives a liberating sense of privacy even when you're right out in the open.  (Colin Fletcher advocated hiking in the nude, but I haven't yet gone quite that far!)  I go through at least a couple of canisters of Wet Ones on every trip, doing my best to keep my hands, face, and head/neck clean, especially when handling food.  It is pretty effective, but bathing from head to toe with actual soap and hot water and drying off in the open air is much more refreshing and invigorating.  Fresh clean clothes before bed were the icing on the cake.  🙂

I never get tired of open-air campsites with expansive views. My field towel and space blanket "bath mat" are drying off on the bushes. 

The emergent moonrise was as beautiful as a sunset.

The full moon made a great night light.  I tried to photograph it, but either the iPhone is not sophisticated enough to take photographs that show the details of the surface, or (more likely) I don't know how to use it properly for this type of photo. 

Tuesday 20 August

I awoke well-rested after a great night's sleep.  After a hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs, I packed up to continue exploring to the west.  Today's drive would take me out of the Idaho endowment lands and back into the Kaniksu National Forest.  Because of the road network, I would have to cross the border into Washington.  At this point I wasn't sure exactly where I wanted to go, so I just followed the terrain and the road network to see what was there.  

My first exploration was to follow the other branch of the road I'd camped on the night before up to the summit of Caribou Hill.  I'd been too tired to go that far in search of a campsite, and it turned out to be a good thing.  The drive up was a pretty rough crawl in low range, and when I got to the end of the ATV trail at the top, there was no view to speak of.  A short hike past the end of the trail brought me to the remnants of a lookout tower (now just concrete footings and a few other traces).  But it was closed in by trees on all sides, so I was glad to have camped where I did.

After crawling back down to the main road, I drove fairly steadily west.  Before leaving the state forest lands, I passed some active logging operations, and drove right past some of the clear-cut areas I had seen earlier from the summit of Lookout Mountain.  

Watch out for falling trees and heavy equipment!

One of the clear-cut areas.  I'm not sure why they leave a few trees standing, but they were spaced out at somewhat regular intervals, suggesting a systematic approach for a definite purpose.

Considering that it's been logged for at least 74 years, the forest is in pretty good shape. 

I liked "Christmas Tree Cutting: Two trees per family are allowed without a permit". 

After leaving the state forest, I continued west in the Kaniksu National Forest, first on FR 655, then on FR 1013.  I saw a place on the map called the Roosevelt Grove of Ancient Cedars and decided to go there.  When I arrived, it reminded me of the State Park - there were lots of cars in the parking lot, and lots of people walking into the woods on the well-manicured trail.  Despite the alluring descriptions of the trees, I lost all desire to follow the crowd and walk through the grove myself.  I ate my lunch at a picnic table, and continued my drive.

The weather forecast called for thunderstorms, so I was hoping to find an isolated place to camp before too long.  I doubled back north from the grove, and turned onto less travelled roads to go back south through the forest to the west of Priest Lake.  I traveled on FR 401, then FR 1015, and finally FR 1341.  Although I found one or two places where I could have stopped to make camp, none of them appealed to me.  Mostly the roads were along steep, thickly-forested slopes with limited visibility and no places to turn off.

One of the very few places along this stretch that offered any kind of view.  Mostly it was through trees like those in the foreground, overgrown on both sides of the road.  It reminded me of the approach drive to the river in the movie "Deliverance".

Eventually I found myself in the little settlement of Nordman.  I stopped for gas and ice, and examined the map to see if I could find a likely place to stop for the night.  Although I turned off the main road and explored partway up a place called "Binarch Mountain", by this time my enthusiasm was at a low point.  I should have seen it coming when I wasn't that interested in the cedar grove.  If I can't get excited about seeing something that unique, it's a sign that I'm pretty much done and it's time to go home.  And that's exactly what I decided to do.  So I continued south on Idaho 57 and headed back east toward Sandpoint, then south on US 95 back to Coeur d'Alene.  Just west of Sandpoint I passed a giant sawmill and lumber yard, and stopped to photograph it as a fitting coda to my journey through the Priest Lake State Forest.

I couldn't get all the piles of logs into one photo.  They keep them soaked with water, presumably to minimize the danger of fire.

The logs are processed through the sawmill and then go into stacks of finished lumber like this...

And finally into shrink-wrapped bundles ready to be loaded onto railcars and shipped across the country.  The logo on the side of the bundles says "Idaho Forest Group".

As much as I like to travel through wilderness and virgin forest, the fact is that the wood to build houses and make furniture and other products has to some from someplace.  Just like the minerals produced by mining and the oil and natural gas from the petroleum industry, I'd rather see it come from American sources and keep those industries and the communities they support healthy and vibrant rather than import it from overseas.  

My drive home was uneventful, and I enjoyed a relaxing evening in my home, which is probably made of lumber from Idaho trees.  🌲🙂

Mood:  Happy

Music:  Dueling Banjos 🪕😂