Hey, Just Ride 76: I choose nature

Enjoying a crackling campfire waiting for the mid-July sun to set as the 9 o’clock hour slowly ticks on I’m reminded that we make our world what we want it to be.

We’re camping at Evergreen Campground off U.S. Highway 95 in Idaho between Council and New Meadows because it sits along the upper finale of the 85-mile Weiser River Trail — a rail trail that climbs slowly out of the high desert toward to tourist haven of McCall.

Unlike McCall, we find solitude here. And, if you choose, you can embrace peace and quiet.

I preface the quiet aspect because camping on the edge of Highway 95 the traffic either accelerates up the climb to New Meadows or grinds downshifting toward Council.

Not many fancy this place because of the traffic noise.

I understand. I realize that years ago this place might have driven me crazy, too.

Hearing the birds chirping their final songs can get drown out by the sound of traffic, but only if one allows that.

My connection with nature at this point in my life brings the revelation that the sounds of the birds serenading into the night, squirrels squeaking final goodnights, and the Weiser River tumbling over large granite boulders rises to the forefront of my attention overriding any sound of annoying traffic.

Again, years ago, the reverse probably would have been the case. Instead, I’ve chosen for nature to overrule my city-forged mindset.

Maybe that’s why on our second morning here as my Golden Lab Summer and I emerged onto the Weiser Trail for our morning walk a small bear cub popped out of the woods just 50 yards ahead, undaunted and unaware of us until it trotted about 20 feet toward us. Upon noting our presence it bounded quickly back into the brush.

Or it could explain why on my return down a forest road on my bike I surprised a cow elk grazing to the side. She glanced up at me and majestically rose to her feet standing some 10-foot-tall before gently bouncing up the steep hillside.

Same for the young 6-point buck whitetail enjoying the shade under a pine tree in the high grass along the Weiser Trail escaping the searing 95-degree heat in the midday sun.

As I approached on my bike he raised his head above the waist-high grass, casually rose, then pranced away toward the river.

In each instance I could sense no panic in the wildlife response to my presence. It felt as though they simply moved out of my way to allow me to enjoy my journey through their homeland.

It reminded me of living in Southern California, two blocks from the sandy beaches of the Pacific Ocean. The price of admission? The roar of the Amtrak commuter line zipping along all hours. In our early days we were jolted to attention with each passing. Eventually it became background noise barely noticeable.

I wonder how many join me at this time in life, when we encounter this joy of selective experiences. Too few, if not all. So sad, because the simple matter of choice will define your life — if you allow it.

The Weiser Trail itself displays a variety of vistas. Their impact depends on the time of the year, and the water in the system.

In mid-summer the heat can be brutal, but something about desolation of the dry terrain invigorates me and stimulates my imagination. What ran through the minds of earlier adventurers who snaked along the river at the same speed, but on horseback?

The views of the river range from average to stunning. The wildlife? Prepare for anything from a bear cub to rattlesnake sunning across the gravel.

You can chop the ride into sections. Most enjoyable for me is the final 20-plus miles from Council to the trail’s end, where the most climbing occurs and you rise into green forests with towering views of the river on seemingly endless trestles.

What takes center stage in your experience? Well, that’s up to you.

Time to ride.