After a day of snowboarding, well, I should say a few hours, then the rest of the day lazing about, we were ready to climb again. Sunday we headed to check out Massacre Rocks, a basalt climbing area near American Falls, Idaho along the banks of the Snake River. We had heard the area was hard to find and Phil had seen pictures of his friend's Outback with a busted oil pan due to the rigors of the off-roading road. So, with several pages of a digital guide printed, we headed west in Earl and hoped for the best.
Earl is fun to drive over Pine Creek Pass, a windy mountain pass just a few miles from our house, but the fun stops when you hit the highway near Idaho Falls. Phil was the unlucky driver on the way there, as there were substantial cross winds when heading north and serious headwinds when headed west. We couldn't go the 75 mile an hour speed limit, and Phil was virtually white-knuckling with the pedal slammed to the floor. Aside from the wind smashing the soft top, and the scary woosh of semis passing, it was a quiet ride!
As we got off the highway and followed the extensive directions, we plunged further and further into Idaho farmland, with the Snake and the highway in the distance. Many of the fields are now sprouting and they make quite a jolt of green against the fields that are still barren and the snow-capped peaks in the distance. As we struggled to determine which cattle gate was our marker for which unmarked dirt road, we remembered that Earl's odometer is inaccurate due to his jacked up wheels. We missed the turn repeatedly and watched the gas tank dwindle at a shocking pace.
We soon met a giggling family or rather large four wheelers, who told us where there were some rocks. Sketchy to follow the directions of non-climbers when the area is a jungle of good rock and choss, but we followed their directions down a dirt road that "Your Jeep will do fine" on. I questioned that recommendation, but they insisted their Subaru could make it on the two track. Amidst scrub brush and sand, we headed out. What at first was a giggly road with wild turns and dips, soon became a very deep pit. We decided to turn around, but soon couldn't because the road was too deep and perilous. Finally, we found a spot to turn around and got out to try to calm down. The dogs were panting like we were in the middle of the dessert and we felt disoriented as to what on earth we were doing!
Just as we were about to throw in the towel and head for gas, we saw climbing anchors. We parked the Jeep and started climbing, despite having no idea where we were. The climbing is short, steep and fun. Occasional screaming 4 wheelers went giggling by us and we never saw another climber. On our last route of the day, two fierce red-tailed hawks repeatedly threatened to gauge Phil's eyes out. We were a bit close to their nests and they must have had babies. Three times Phil lowered from the third bolt for fear he was getting attacked. Finally, we bailed, cursing what we were sure was a 30 pound winged demon. (Wikipedia tells me they weigh 3 pounds, but I don't believe it for a second.) Long story short, we did make it to the gas station and all the way home. I had the wind in the right direction, and enjoyed a much better drive home.
What an adventure!
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