Moose on Slate Mountain

Short Version:
Another great ride with a moose encounter, happy burgers, near-misses in the National Park.

Long Version:
Our second Pocatello morning dawned... actually we have no idea how it dawned, because we were warm, and clean, and in a comfortable bed inside a house, all of which adds up to "Not hurrying to arise in the morning."

When finally we did haul ourselves out into the world, we found another perfect riding day waiting for us, which was a very good thing, given that a ride was exactly what we were planning.

We dropped Lisa's truck at West Fork and drove the Reaper to the Gibson Jack trailhead. From there, we rode up a steep hill, then up alongside Dry Creek to the top of its valley. There were a couple of great viewpoints along the way that showed what a difference a drop or four of water can make: Dry Creek was a strip of lush trees running up the center of a landscape of arid brown grasses. We'd been warned by an outbound runner that there were some ornery moose about, so we were on high alert right up to the point where we relaxed, which was just before we encountered the moose and her calf. Luckily, they were no more keen to make our acquaintance than we were theirs, although we would have liked to ogle them for longer before they hightailed off into the woods. Especially given that their departure meant we had to ride up a really steep hill.

Once up that, though, it was several descending traverses with occasional short climbs, and then the main descent, which saw us drop down through a pretty valley, swinging from side to side through a series of sweeping corners, popping us out on the West Fork trail, ten minutes of flying downhill from the trailhead.

Reaper collection was followed by burgers for lunch: happy elk mixed with happy goose. Apparently goose, happy or otherwise, is not a particularly pattie-friendly meat, so they cut it with elk to make it stick better. Whatever the science, it was delicious.

And then we hit the road, northbound, through Idaho Falls and into Wyoming, where we drove in the dark through a National Park, narrowly avoiding cleaning out a coyote, a deer, and a herd of elk along the way despite our slow speed. Eventually we made it to Polecat Creek, where we set up camp with the smell of bear in our noses and fell asleep quickly as the stars twinkled overhead. Probably.