As that winter drew near to an end, my first outdoor adventure began. Buck was preparing to leave for Idaho; it was decision time. My mind was made up long before he actually asked me to "Hook-up" and come with him. If there were one word that could describe a sheepherder's life it would be lonely. We were unusual in that we were a couple. I said, "Yes!" I can't remember if I sold Myrtle or just abandoned her on the side of the highway. What I do remember, clearly, was spending my hard earned cash on books like Euell Gibbons Stalking the Wild Asparagus and Stalking the Healthful Herbs. We were going to live off the land, Mother-Earth-Catalogue style. I had to be ready. Melanie and a couple of her dogs saw us off, she waved goodbye from the trailer park as we drove away in the truck. "Riggins, on the Salmon River," Buck said. Sounded idyllic to me!

Riggins, Idaho, where the main sheep ranch was located, turned out to be a small town with a population of 500. In some places the Salmon becomes quite a mighty river. The town supported a café, motel, gas station, barbershop and a Mayor who kept trying to retire, but the population wouldn't hear of it. As he filled the gas tank, Buck pointed to the mountains that dominated the landscape, "There're named the Seven Devils." Since our final destination was somewhere north above Hell's Canyon it all fit. This was the serious west. Looking at the road map, there weren't many towns in central Idaho. There were, instead, National Forests everywhere. I'd never seen so much green on a map. The single name, which immediately caught my eye, was the Nez Perce National Forest. I poured over 19th Century brown-toned photographs of the Nez Perce Indian people growing up and now, I was in their territory. What an exhilarating feeling!

We spent several days at the Ranch, while Buck helped the ranch hands with the lambing. Then, the bands of sheep were loaded into huge trucks to be transported north of the Snake River to the high pastures where they would spend the summer grazing. One remote satellite Ranch camp was set up to service all the different sheepherders. As the sheep grazed their way across the mountains the camp tender would come out and help move the 12 x 12 canvas outfitter tents the sheepherders called home. Once a week he would bring in food and supplies to each of the herders. Mail came down the Snake River on a mail boat. Although it came regularly there was seldom anything either delivered to us, or taken back to be mailed.

Furnishings for the tent were sparse but adequate: futon type mattresses to sleep on, camp logs for chairs, and a camp box with skillet, dutch oven, coffe pot, plates, utensils, matches and candles. It all closed up into a unit which could be hauled on the side of a mule. The most important element was the sheepherder's camp stove. There were no frills - shepherding being predominantly a male occupation. It was life in its simplest form. Perhaps that, more than anything else, made it so appealing to me. Next Part

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