Lehmi River Valley (Idaho, United States) | Mines and Pictograph - 3 Oct, 2023

Looking west toward the Lehmi Mountains, I noticed this fast-moving thunderstorm. Storms like these are common here and move quickly. The peaks in the background are approximately 22 km (13.5 mi) west of us, and the storm was upon us in about 10 minutes.

As we prepare to leave camp this morning, Jeff informs me that we'll be heading back to the Bitterroot Mountains. "Let's go to Skull Canyon so you can see the Native American pictographs," says Jeff. You guys don't need to make a special ride for me. I haven't spent much time in this country, so I'm sure I'll enjoy wherever we go," I say. "It's a fun little ride that we do most years. You'll enjoy it," says Jeff. A few minutes later, everyone is loaded up into their machines, and off we go.

Jeff and Chris, his wife, lead the group while everyone else drops in line. My dad and I are 2nd to last, which I enjoy. It's a good place to get out of the dust. Jeff will tell you he likes to lead because he doesn't have to eat dust like the rest of us. The rest of the group will tell you they like having Jeff lead because he sets a comfortable pace, knows the trails well, and has a good feel for when to stop and take a break. Through the years, I've followed many people on rides similar to these, and few do as good of a job leading as Jeff.

The string of vehicles is dispersed today because it is dry. There is little wind to blow the dust aside from the vehicles. It is a delicate balancing act when conditions are like this. It is important to stay close enough to see where the UTV in front of your machine is going. But if you follow too closely, you'll be eating a dust sandwich all day. Stay too far back, and you could lose the trail. 😂

The rides we go on typically consume most of the day, 4-8 hours, depending on conditions and terrain. After a few hours this morning, Jeff stops and lets the group catch up. "There's an abandoned mine just over the spoils pile that is fun to visit," says Jeff. 

When I worked for the Wyoming Game and Fish Department in Wyoming, I spent a lot of my time in caves and abandoned mines inventorying bats. Sometimes, we visited them in the winter to count hibernating bats and other times during the summer months to determine if they were being used as roosts or maternity sites. We always had appropriate safety gear, and they can be quite dangerous, so I generally don't recommend entering abandoned mines. But today, I want to see the interior of this abandoned gold mine and am curious if it is being used by bats. 

There are hundreds of thousands of abandoned mines in the western United States. Many are adits (i.e., horizontal openings) like the one below. Others are shafts (i.e., vertical openings). And some have both types of openings. As I walk up to the opening of the mine, I can see old timbers supporting the entrance. I inspect them and determine that they are in great shape, and there is little chance of them collapsing. A few feet into the mine, I notice that the air temperature begins to drop. My previous experience tells me the interior should be about 48 F (8.9 C). The air is cool enough that I wish I had coveralls like I used to wear when doing the bat surveys to keep me warm. The interior is about 6 ft (1.8 m) high by 4.5 ft (1.4 m) wide. On the ground are remnants of old rails used by miners to haul the ore carts to and fro. As I wander through the mine, I look for signs of bats, insect parts or guano. Old habits die hard. 😂 

When I get to the end, about 200 ft (60 m) in, I stop and turn off my flashlight. I'm in complete darkness. I love experiencing this. I touch my nose with my finger and cannot see my hand, which is only a few centimeters from my eyes. Some people are absolutely terrified of absolute darkness. I find these conditions to be extremely calming. I love the tranquility. It is so dark that the mind cannot play tricks on me. There is nothing to imagine, only darkness. Jeff finally joins me inside near the end. The two of us talk about the mining history of this region as we walk out. It is great to chat with someone who appreciates this culture, too.

Around 1 p.m., we park the UTVs below a large rock shelter and hike up to it for lunch. It provides the only shade around. The walls of the large shelter are covered in paint. The pictographs at Indian Head Canyon date back to around 8,000 years ago. Although these drawings are not as old as those at the Grotte de Pech Merle in France, I recognize some similarities.  

The pictographs below, which are in red, are positive images. The more carefully I look, the more I admire the sheer volume of pictographs. The pictures below are some of the most striking images that I saw. 

Similar to when I was in France, I noticed there were also negative images. But in France, the negative images were in red and came much later than those in black. I find it interesting that the red paint also overlaps the black negative art, as it did in at Grotte de Pech Merle. As I admire the pictographs, I have so many questions. Regrettably, there is little information that exists on these images. It is not uncommon. Similar images are dispersed across the American West, and I have yet to find a site with any additional information. After returning to the trailer, I pull out my laptop and am able to determine that some of the images were drawn by the Native Americans of the Shoshone (show shonn) tribe dating back to 8,000 years ago. I cannot find anything else. Nevertheless, these are very interesting, and it is amazing to see them this well preserved in spite of being in the open air.

I wander off to the west to explore more pictographs outside the shelter when I notice the sky is black across the valley. I look behind me and see my group heading down to UTVs. When I arrive, Jeff takes a poll. "Do we go up the mountain to find shelter in the trees or head down to the highway and try to beat the storm?" he asks. Several people opt for the latter as they realize they have left their camper trailer windows open back at camp.

About 10 minutes later, the rain starts to fall. The cold rain soon turns to hail. The 1.8 cm (0.7 in) hail falls fast and furiously. I see everyone huddled under a tarp that is spread out between the UTVs when Dad and I arrive. I hop out and grab hoody sweatshirts for Dad and me. I don't have rain gear with me, but at least this will keep me warm before I get wet. Dad tries to position the UTV so it faces the wind and oncoming hail. After several attempts, I turn to my Dad and say, "I'm out of here. I'm getting nailed. Good luck!"

Hail is quite common in summer rain storms in these parts. Hail are ice crystals that form when rain in carried back up into the atmosphere from warm updrafts. This process repeats itself until the ice crystals become large enough that they fall to the ground. Large hail can be devastating. I've had golf ball-sized hail ruin two vehicles and the roof of my house. Today, we are fortunate as it is very small. Nevertheless, being hit by the hail hurts like hell! 😂 Even under the tarp, I can feel the ice chunks hitting my hands, back, and head as I try to keep the tarp taught in the blowing wind.

It is uncommon to have side windows on UTVs. Tyler's Honda Talon is the only one of the machines in our group that has them. He's also the only one who stayed dry. What looks like snow on the ground is actually piles of hail.

Twenty minutes later, the hail turns to a slow drizzle. We fold up the tarp while sharing stories about how sore we are from the preceding events. The ride back is long, slow, and muddy. Good thing it wasn't supposed to rain today, I say to my Dad as I work the manual windshield wiper lever to help him see through the splattered mud. By the time we arrive back at camp, we are all close to being hypothermic and covered from head to toe in mud. 😂 Good thing we cut this ride short!