By May 7, they reached the strange town of Arco. The cliffs behind the town were painted with huge, gaudy, two-digit numbers representing high school class years. It was now nearly a ghost town. The most difficult stretch of their trip was the forty-three miles between Arco and Carey, since it took them through the dusty Craters of the Moon National Monument. They averaged seven miles per night, and found water only once, at Lava Lake. They rested, fished, and filtered water there for two days.
On May 14 they passed by Carey, and were able to refill their canteens again at Carey Lake and at the Little Wood River. From there on, water was less of a concern since they passed by water sources nearly every night. Often, however, the water had an alkaline taste even after being filtered. On June 10 they reached the outskirts of Mountain Home, Idaho. Because of an obvious UN troop concentration in both the city and the adjoining Air Force base, they took a circuitous route, via Mountain Home Reservoir. They slept in abandoned houses each day and averaged only two miles of travel each night. The daytime heat was becoming oppressive and they longed to get into the mountains.
They cut between Nampa and Meridian, Idaho, on small farm roads. Here, the population density was higher, but the people were friendly and generous, even though they had obviously been suffering since the Crunch. Most of the families here were Mormon. Rather than staying on Highway 95, they took Highway 55 north from the town of Eagle. It was here that they heard their first resistance firefights in Idaho. One of these was within a mile of them, and a few stray tracer rounds from UNPROFOR machine guns passed over their heads. Jean and Leo seemed more excited than frightened. The adults, in contrast, felt exposed and outgunned.
They quickly climbed into cooler, more timbered country, which was how they had always imagined Idaho would be. It was 155 miles from Mountain Home to the former ski resort town of McCall. On the way, they passed through the derelict sawmill town of Cascade, which still had mountains of sawn logs.
On July 12, they made it to McCall and camped just one hundred yards from Payette Lake. There, they were surprised to witness a drunken contingent of Belgian troops partying by the lake, teaching themselves how to water ski. They were using a pair of stolen ski boats that they had brought back to life with UN-supplied 94-octane gasoline.
The next ninety miles, which brought them back onto Highway 95, en route to Grangeville, took them through some scenic mountainous ranching country and forest lands. On July 20, Joshua shot a young cow elk with his .270 rifle. They rested for the next four days, gorging themselves on elk steak and making as much jerky as they could carry.
Then they dropped down into arid country alongside the Little Salmon River. Except for the town of Riggins—which was the farthest northern point of UNPROFOR occupation—the population density was very light, and there was no sign of UN troops except for a couple of daytime convoys.
A local, who was a former whitewater rafting guide, warned them to avoid a UN roadblock that was at the north end of Riggins. He advised them of the route they should take, and drew them a tracing of a Forest Service map. They would have to turn off on Big Salmon Road and take a long detour. This squiggly route, which took them through abandoned Salmon Hot Springs and then up the mountainous gravel Salmon-Grangeville Road (on NF-263 and NF-2630), had not been maintained since before the Crunch. Because of landslides and downed timber, the road was just barely passable in spots with their game carts, and would have been impassable for anything else except perhaps dirt bikes. The detour took them two grueling nights and fifteen hundred feet of elevation change, but ironically it deposited them back on Highway 95, less than a mile north of Riggins.
They now could make better speed, but they still traveled only at night, for fear of bandits or being strafed by UNPROFOR helicopters, which had been seen as far north as White Bird.
On August 20 they passed through White Bird and started up a long, steep grade to the Camas Prairie, skirting around the town of Grangeville.
There were several buildings near Grangeville that were blackened ruins. They didn’t stay to ask if the buildings had been burned by looters or by a long-ranging UNPROFOR gunship. They just avoided getting close to the town and moved through the area as quickly as possible.
After transiting the Nez Perce Indian Reservation, they dropped down to the city of Lewiston. They ended up taking the dozens of switchbacks on the Old Lewiston Grade to avoid any vehicles on Highway 95. Once at the top of the grade, they entered into the rolling Palouse Hills country. Although mostly cleared and cultivated, the region offered lots of shady forested canyons, where they could lay up each day. Once up on the prairie, there was a maze of small farm roads that they could take toward Bovill.
By September 5 they were in the hamlet of Blaine. Finally, on September 9, they reached Bovill. There, a man with the local CB network contacted Todd Gray’s ranch. Ken Layton came to pick them up in Jeff Trasel’s pickup truck, towing a box trailer.
There were lots of hugs. The carts and backpacks were quickly loaded on the trailer. Riding with Ken in the cab of the pickup, Joshua and Megan sat with their rifles between their legs. Malorie sat in the bed of the pickup holding on to the boys. She was joyously singing them an old French Canadian sea shanty.
When they approached the lane from the county road that led to Todd Gray’s house, Ken said, “I love you like a brother, but I’ve got to warn you that things are crowded here. So crowded, in fact, that there’s already talk of splitting the group and putting half of us down at Kevin Lendel’s ranch, which is just a few miles down the road. Until that happens, things will be very cramped.
“Since UNPROFOR is already in southern Idaho and central Montana, we expect them to move in to northern Idaho next year, and things may get dicey. In fact, Todd made the mistake of speaking up and identifying himself publicly, when a UN spokesman came to give a speech at the Moscow-Pullman airport a few months ago. So when the Blue Helmets do arrive—and that could be as soon as this autumn—we may be at the top of their hit list. Todd and Mary are thinking that we may have to bug out. Now, don’t get me wrong, from a self-sufficiency standpoint, this is a great region to live in. I just don’t think that it’ll remain safe for you here at Todd’s ranch for very long.”
Joshua asked, “So what do you recommend, Ken?”
“I’ll make some inquiries, but I think that one of the big cattle ranches around St. Maries might be looking for a team like yours. You will, of course, have my strong recommendation, plus the letter of recommendation you’re carrying from that rancher you worked for near Driggs.”
Joshua sighed, and then said, “We’re going to have to pray about this and talk it over. We all have skills, and we want to help fight the ProvGov, but we have the safety of little Leo and Jean to consider.”
Ken said, “I’ll leave it up to you. Working at a ranch is probably the best option since you have your kids with you. But if you have enough precious metals to support yourself for a while, then maybe you’ll want to go and get involved with one of the militias that are forming. They’re popping up all over the region. I’m sure that they could use the help of folks with a background in intel gathering and analysis.”
They slept in the living room of Todd and Mary’s house just one night. They stayed up late, sharing stories of their adventures and testifying of God’s providence and protection. They caught up on events in different parts of the United States as they had played out during the Crunch and its aftermath.