The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 493: The Sleepy Saint Joe--Sheer Deprivation and Thin Gruel

Frac nestled in at the "Joe".

For the fourth time in our lives, we spent time with Ed and Deb Drouin camping on the St. Joe River, a piece of God's wonder nestled in the mountains between St. Regis, Montana and Avery, Idaho. Renowned as a fly fishing mecca, the rippling waters of the Joe flow in a maze of twists, turns and wide slow flutters. Along the way, the water has carved "holes" that the cut throat trout like to hide in. On any given day, a spattering of hip-wading fishermen can be seen delicately whipping their thin lines so that the tiny fly on the tip lands lightly and then flows with the current to just above a waiting trout hole. All fishing is catch and release, so the fisherman treat the area and the fish with great respect. We're not fishermen. We go to hike, lounge around camp, take siestas, enjoy each other, eat well, and most importantly, watch the light as it changes the green of the tall trees on either side of the gorge. We were lucky enough this time to return to our favorite sight at Conrad Crossing, a designated camping area located at mile seventy-five (Counting from St. Maries). We prefer the camp ground because it has a well maintained bathroom, fresh water from a pump, and nearly complete privacy. The only caveat it that in order to occupy this particular site, a camper has to be willing to let rafters launch from the site. We don't mind at all, even if there were rafters, which is less likely this time of the year because the water is low. So, here's our day, repeated three times. Deb and Ed arrived at our house Sunday morning about 9. We loaded their stuff: a huge tent (Taj Mahal), two full foam mattresses, a furniture blanket, sleeping bags, pillows, lantern, two coolers, a travel suitcase, a large purple athletic bag, tow large reclining folding chairs, and a box of dry goods. We added that extra thousand pounds into Frac, and the four of us headed on the freeway to St. Regis, Montana. The trip takes about two and a half hours. We got gas, where Deb bought an extra package of Smores fixing, and we were off up Gold Pass, which on the Montana side is fifteen miles of washboard dirt road that winds itself up, over, around, and drops into the St. Joe drainage. We bubbled with excitement, hoping that our site was open. It was: Hooray! We set up camp. By the time we finished, it was cocktail hour, so we sat by the river sipping our gin and tonics. First night dinner was a low country boil that we did over the fire. Tradition holds that we eat breakfast in the trailer, so the next morning we enjoyed huckleberry pancakes and bacon. Ed gets up early to start the fire. Judy gets up early to make the coffee, which she hand delivers. We're usually ready to hike by ten. Back from the hike, we do various things: Judy knits; Deb and Ed take siestas, I sit in a folding chair in the creek and paint water colors, or this year, I created some rock art. Cocktail hour begins around four. Second night's dinner was London Broil, which Deb cooked over the fire. We sipped Bourbon after dinner. Second morning breakfast was egg in a nest, but the nest was a large onion infused bagel. We also had fruit salad and sausage. We walked further the second day: almost five miles. The same patterns occurred in the afternoon, except that I received some unsettling family news, so I tried to drive to where I could get cell reception. Third night dinner was the classic dogs and beans, and finally, our last morning we enjoyed a vegetable scramble with fresh "Judy" bread smothered with huck-raz jam. We took our last walk, and headed back out of the mountains. We arrived home about four after a late lunch at Roger's Ice Creamery in Coeurd'Alene. Deb and Ed packed their stuff. Judy and I washed Frac. and we tucked her away until the next adventure. In all, we had four days and three nights living where life was good. We're thankful.