This is my family at Palouse Fall Park.
I decided to post about some adventures I had as an Explorer Scout. It's a short story, but it's accurate in its telling.
Palouse Falls
High rock walls rising perpendicular to the river, whispering winds, ancient Indian carvings, an old cave dwelling, a tall, long railroad bridge across the Snake River, a railroad tunnel cut out of solid rock, and Devil's Gap to Palouse Falls—boys’ paradise! Wonderfully made to order for seven active scouts.
The trip to Palouse Falls by our Scout Troop first took shape in the minds of our parents, I suspect, as the days of summer were nearly over, and our parents’ tempers were growing shorter.
Ten miles up the Palouse River to Devil's Gap, this rugged hike helped us appreciate our young lives because we almost lost them a few times. I realize we accomplished many goals, both for our parents and ourselves.
Friday night, we headed towards the Snake and Palouse Rivers junction. Surreptitious plans were busily hatching in our heads. Arriving at our destination, we faced a jumble of tangled tent poles. Everyone went in different directions for their singular purpose, which is hardly surprising after singing the bottle of beer on the wall song for the last ten miles.
The race was on. Who could put up a two-person pup tent by flashlight or moonlight to allow two sleeping bags inside? It wasn’t cold enough to keep out the critters, such as demons, friendly rattlesnakes, Girl Scouts, river monsters, etc. So it didn’t matter if the tent had to be put up; you just scrunched your bag in the tent's opening and zipped it shut—
Night time finally gives up in exhaustion to the exuberance of youth.
Morning light renews the battle of boys against the elements. I wake up with feathers up my nose from the army-issue mummy bag, and that’s because I slept on the hole to keep the snakes from crawling in. We all had this massive fear of snakes after floating down the Rogue River in Oregon and sleeping with rattlesnakes crawling around us all night.
I always crawled out of the tent in my mummy bag, hopping around looking for snakes.
The first impressive thing we saw Saturday morning was the colossal train bridge crossing the Snake River at the junction of the Palouse and Snake.
A bridge was fair game on a scout campout for the morning pre-breakfast activity.
Being of the un-height generation, I was dubious about following the guys across the bridge to the other side. Being brave was not my strong point, especially when I saw the gap between the railroad ties and could look hundreds of feet down at the river.
Everyone had started across, so I finally brought up the rear guard. I was getting bullied about my slow progress, so I reported to my brave comrades that I was checking the rails for vibrations of any trains. Frozen stares were thrown my way at the mention of trains.
Not too long after, someone spotted a barely visible dark shape on the other side of the river. Right about then, the train started sounding its air horns. Terror and panic..mostly, panic permeated our ranks.
I had a smug look; I knew it all along. A look of terror overtook my smug look as everyone caught up at my snail's pace.
I inherited a lack of coordination and a fear of heights in places where I couldn’t hang on to something. This bridge had no railings..just open space.
All my alternatives usually pass before me whenever I'm in trouble, although I think that’s normal. I saw myself hanging from the bridge as the 200-car train passed over me.
As the bridge started to rumble, I continued my slow progress from tie to tie, but luckily, my lead was sufficient, and a kind railroad engineer slowed the train. We were verbally assaulted as the train slowly passed..dumb kids!..to the clicking of the wheels.
Our Scoutmaster was getting up!
I don’t know how it happened, but our morning campfire turned into a conflagration of giant bonfires...who could build the biggest? Our breakfast was somehow eaten in between many varied activities.
We planned to hike ten miles up the Palouse River to Devil’s Gap at Palouse Falls. Not planning on such extreme heat, we failed to carry sufficient water for a desolate, rugged country like the Palouse. Although we were tempted to jump in the river, we never found a place to get in.
The cliffs were appalling, and we were awed by the country's simple beauty but growing weary and hot. Finally, unable to continue along the river because of impassable cliffs, we climbed a massive landslide of gigantic boulders to a train tunnel.
We were all close to exhaustion from the heat and lack of water and getting a little anxious when we discovered a spring. The water was coming out of a pipe at the opening of the railroad tunnel. I’m glad no one saw us hugging and kissing that pipe, but no water tasted so good.
Far into the tunnel, walking on the rails, I suddenly became aware of a tingling sensation in my feet. I wondered if near dehydration causes tingling sensations in the feet. So I stepped off the tracks, and it was gone. It mentioned it to the others, and someone put their ear to the rail and heard the same thing. The rail was vibrating now, but the train idea seemed so remote.
We realized later that the track curved at the other end of where the train was coming from. Also, there were high rock walls on either side of the tracks, which effectively blocked the noise of the train. To top this off, the train had a couple of engines and cabooses traveling extremely fast.
The only thing that saved us was our wariness of the track as the train came speeding towards us, still unseen. Thank goodness we took precautions by flattening against the wall and joining hands. The tunnel walls were frighteningly close to the track as that train flashed by.
A belated thought finally punctured our minds: this is a well-used railway.
At this point, the blazing rock walls on either side of the track prevented us from escaping what we considered an extremely dangerous railroad. Creosote fumes from the rail ties fumed around us, probably on the verge of igniting in the heat. We shuffled along on instinct, hoping for a break in that rock wall pointed in the right direction. Finally, we reached a gap where the highway trestle crossed to Palouse Falls.
In the meantime, our Scoutmaster had moved our camp to the Palouse Falls Campground and greeted us with a great sigh of relief. After drinking the wells dry and eating lunch and dinner in one sitting, we looked in awe at the Falls. And then, in unison, I think we all got very sleepy from a combination of heat exhaustion and too much food.
Those cool mists from that primitive work of nature beckoned us to descend into that deep chasm where millions of drums beat against ancient mossy walls. That never-ending thunder challenged the living, and thus, we revived very quickly.
A chain-link fence surrounded the gap's entrance, and an ominous sign posted at eye height warned: enter at your own risk.
The Devil's Gap was a fissure crack in the sheer cliffs above Palouse Falls. The crack, maybe three feet at its widest point, severed the cliff halfway down and, at that point, intersected a narrow path that was extremely dangerous due to the moss.
I wasn’t convinced going down was smart until a lady came up.
It was quite a climb down into the gap. It was very steep and narrow, to the point that I could not squeeze through. The drop was about two hundred feet long. At the bottom was a trail, maybe two feet wide. Maybe ten thousand years ago, I could see an ancient man walking down the path. Incredibly, the same guys who happily bounded across sheer drops on the railroad bridge were more than happy to walk back with me. I went back up the gap.
Then I did the most incredibly dumb thing I’ve ever done. We were preparing to go, and I had a gas stove with white gas in it. I swear somebody talked me into this. I poured the remains down the gap. It was maybe a few tablespoons. Then they egged me on until I lit it! Little did I know that slight groundwater was seeping through that gap. Incredibly, the flames went most of the way down the gap. Some people were coming up, and you could hear them saying, (what the heck)!.. It was such a little bit of gas, and I’m sure it just scared them, but still, we loaded up and left the campground before we were put out to dry. My Scout leader was livid.
By Ric
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