[Day 88] Lima

The town is pronounced Lima — like the bean, not the Peruvian capitol. It falls on the Montana side of the border. Hikers either disagree with the place or come away neutrally content.

I walked with heading for Interstate 15, some 25 miles by trail. Interstate 15 runs through my backyard in Southern California all the way to Alberta Highway 4 at the Canadian border. Why didn’t I just walk this line to Canada? I last crossed I-15 on foot along the PCT at Cajon Junction, north of San Bernardino. Now, I’ll be crossing it nearly 925 miles north — about 13 hours driving — in Idaho.

I whacked my way through the thigh-high foliage of the burn zone. With the lack of mosquitos in this section, I’ve been showing off my legs in my two-inch inseam running shorts. It’s freeing, but likely not a great move for this section. By the end of the day, a combination of bug spray, dirt, and plant residues and oils had accumulated into a waxy film on my legs, a layer thick enough to scratch off and fill up under the fingernails.

The day wasn’t too spectacular — rather hazy skyline with arid forests and skimpy water sources. I crested Big and Little Table Mountains. I have enjoyed the Idaho southern views and Montana northern views; big shallow lakes bottom out the expansive shrubbery that eventually elevate into mountains farther south and north. Looking westward, dry exposed peaks dominate. I assume these are my next climbs towards Leadore. Based on border markers, it seems most of my walking has been spent in Idaho the past few days.

Montana’s namesake, originating from the Spanish word for “mountain” (“montaña”), is undeniably fitting. Idaho’s name, however, has a more interesting origin. Back in – I want to say – the 1860’s, a mining lobbyist presented the name “Idaho” to Congress in proposition for the territory of present-day Colorado, and it was approved. Colorado was once Idaho. Colorado later received is name founded in Spanish origins, translating to “colored red”. Is Colorado red? Some parts. But, the name really came from lobbying by the town of Colorado City in the territory to promote their town. Anyway, back to Idaho…

The name Idaho, however, was found to be illegitimate. Advertised as a Native American word translating to “Gem of the Mountains,” Congress soon undid their action once discovering it had no native origin. Colorado’s mountains are certainly jewels, but “Idaho,” by all accounts, is purely invented. Years later, in considering the name for the territory of new mining country west of Montana, the name Idaho was revived, despite have no clear Native American meaning – or any clear cultural or linguistic origin. Some mining man merely invented a word, provided his own definition founded in a culture personally irrelevant to himself, and named a United States territory. I am tempted to start providing some of my linguistic prowess of word invention to the United States Congress. Heck, I have previously somehow managed to influence the pronounciation and habits of the poor souls that might make my acquaintance. What’s not to say I try to influence an entire country? Sometimes, stupidity – or maybe it’s ignorance? – wins.

Along the way today, I ran into some 15 or so southbound hikers. The southbound season starts from the Canadian border around mid-June. These south-bounders are herd animals, and most of them aren’t all that friendly. Oh well — statistically, most of them will quit soon enough.

Trail, following dirt road, dropped into landscape similar to Wyoming’s Great Divide Basin, and mixed herds of cows and sheep popped up. Is this the experiment — the mingling of sheep and cows?

I hit I-15 around 4:45pm and waited a short 25 minutes before Monty, a shuttle driver for CDT hikers, picked me up. Lima, a town of 212, manages to have an organized shuttle service for hikers. I guess we provide some serious revenue for the town.

I grabbed myself a tent spot at the RV and Motel for $10, then hit Jan’s Cafe for burger, bowl of chili, and chocolate shake. Back at the motel, I got a shower in an antiquated motel room. It’s rustic, but not $70 a night rustic. More town chores ensued until it was time for some rest.

Lima is a funny little stop. To quote the Chairman, my infamous Triple Crowned buddy, he says the following of the town of Lima: “They sell guns at the gas station so you know it’s a legit place.” I’m not quite sure when I’ll head out tomorrow, but I don’t expect to take a day off.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)