Beyond the Setting Sun

Dancing with The Dealer

The day I crossed into Idaho was cold, but the road over Targhee Pass was free of snow.  Huge snowbanks lay either side of the road, but my way was clear.  Huffing and puffing, because of the altitude and the weight of the pack, I was soon into potato country... although with the thick snow everywhere you looked you couldn't imagine where they were grown.

It was sunny and the glare from the snow hurt my eyes, even with sunglasses on beneath my goggles.  Fortunately an easy walk of less than twenty miles took me to Mack's Inn, where a warm motel room awaited, free of charge.

The next day was over 30 miles and it felt long after the days of rest in Yellowstone.  As I walked through the Island Park area the skies were clear and my eyes continued to hurt from the reflected glare of the snow by the roadside.  I was heading for Ashton and the Zion Lutheran Church.  A strong wind blew and the wind chill was put at -30 Fahrenheit.  With the cold there wasn't much chance of a break and I walked for ten hours.

Darkness came and I was still walking.  I reached the hill above Ashton and began heading down.  The road was slick with ice: smooth as glass.  Time and again I slipped and ended up on my back - arms and legs flailing around either side of the backpack.  Luckily there was almost no traffic on the dangerously icy road.

Trying to stand up on the ice was hard work.  After much cursing, slipping and sliding I made it down the hill and found the church.  I was exhausted and ready for sleep.

It was Friday, 16th December and the next stop was Rexburg.  The morning dawned with the temperature at 0 degrees Fahrenheit.  A reporter from the Post-Register newspaper, Cathy Koon, met me as I set off.  The cold meant that the interview was short.  Cathy took down notes quickly and my story was told once more.

The day warmed to 20 degrees and with bright sun I could take off my second balaclava and gloves.  To my left, way beyond a flat expanse of white, the Teton Mountains lay like frosted, jagged teeth set in a jaw of ice-covered rock.  In the distance to the east they looked impressive as they bit into the clear blue skies.

The day was peaceful and, as darkness came early once more, I reached a crossroads at Rexburg and made for the home of Mr. and Mrs. Doyle Walker.  They were helpers at the Good Samaritan Center in Idaho Falls, which was where the next hospice group was based.

Another long, cold day saw me walking until nine in the evening.  With my breath steaming from me, I scrambled down a steep bank to reach a truckstop on the outskirts of Idaho Falls.

Quickly I headed into the warmth.  I telephoned John Langemo, who was the administrative director of the Good Samaritan Center.  He agreed to come and pick me up in an hour and that left me plenty of time to order food and eat at the restaurant that was part of the truckstop.  Outside it was bitterly cold, but inside, tucking into a good meal, I felt great.

As arranged, John arrived and drove me off to the Good Samaritan Center.  A day of rest had been scheduled there, and I was grateful, as it would give me the opportunity to contact the hospice in Pocatello and Salt Lake City to arrange details for my visits there.

The Good Samaritan Center was a retirement home that also had a nursing section.  The residents had been told to expect a crazy young Englishman and the morning after I arrived I was due to have breakfast with the inmates.

The room I had been given was across the hall from a lady called Katherine Bennet.  Katherine was in her eighties, and an artist.  We clicked immediately, and fell to talking as Katherine took me to the breakfast room.  She had lived most of her life in a canyon in Idaho, where there wasn't much sky to see.  Katherine and her mother had learnt to paint from a Dominican nun who lived nearby.  For most of her life Katherine had painted mountainous scenery and still life paintings and now taught children and adults how to paint.