Ask someone not from Minnesota about Minnesota and the first thing they think of its unbearable cold. It’s true, Minneapolis and St. Paul are the coldest major cities in the nation – even worse than Alaska’s submissions. Its motto is the North Star state – any further north, in most eyes, and you’re in the North Pole at Santa’s workshop.
It’s along this pseudo boundary where Minnesota got its name, The Land of Lakes; primarily derived by a million-acre wilderness (called the Boundary Waters) that’s teeming with lakes. It’s there where I, in addition to my solo trips, have joined the other ‘Sota Boys on longstanding annual fishing trips.
No doubt, the place is like a second home to us, but there are times when a change of scenery is good for the soul. We were itching for a new frontier. It was time for us to go West.
The brainstorming session began on a cold, February evening while ice fishing on Minnetonka. It started at the big sky of Montana. Then it meandered down to the Cowboy State and eventually took us to the emerald coast of the Pacific Northwest. While most of us mused along this thought process as we were slouching over our ice holes in Jake’s ice castle, one kept silent.
“Ben, what do you think?”
“Ever heard of the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness?” he replied.
“The church of what?!”
“It’s in Idaho…”
While Ben was clarifying, I was pondering, “Idaho!?! The land of potatoes and a football team that plays on actual blue grass – well, turf but whatever.”
Clearly all of us (except for Ben) were thinking Montana, Wyoming, Washington and Oregon. Why shouldn’t we since those are some of the finest states for fly fishing, hiking, and scenic mountain ranges in the Union? Idaho, despite being smack dab right in the middle of all those states, was overlooked.
It shouldn’t have been.
It’s understandable though. We questioned Ben, just like everyone else who questioned me once I returned,
“Go on any fun, outdoors, adventuring trips this year?”
“Yeah, I went to the Bighorn Crags in Idaho’s Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness.”
“Ohh, ummm. Interesting…(as they pondered it being a Guinness World record for longest title ever for a location).”
“It’s more than just interesting. It was mind blowing how rugged and pristine it is out there – considering that it’s the largest Wilderness in the Lower 48.”
“Really?! In Idaho??? I thought you just wanted to pick potatoes…” they’d all jest.
“HAHAHA…(meanwhile thinking, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that)…So anyway, we considered Yellowstone, Glacier, Yosemite, Rocky Mountain, and all the other national parks. But, let’s be honest, they’re all crammed with tourists. Why on earth would you escape the daily grind to go experience another version of afternoon rush hour?.”
We wanted solitude. We wanted a taste of what untouched actually means, for, in 20 years, that adjective will probably be extinct in our national parks and wildernesses.
If you want to get away from all the hoopla and break the mold from a standard vacation out West, there’s a sliver of heaven you can still enjoy. Yes, the heaven out there is also made in gold. But it isn’t the gold in fine jewelry that dazzles the eye.
Nay, the gold out there is of a finer, rarer kind that mesmerizes the eye. The only way of acquiring it is by pulling it out of some of its alpine lakes arrayed in a hue of sapphire blue.
Yeah, pretty legit huh?? They’re definitely not your standard Browns, ‘Bows, and Cutties.
According to a guy we passed on the trail that used to work in Idaho’s fisheries, they were introduced to a few lakes back in the 1960s. Since then, they’ve thrived alongside the native cutthroats they share waters with.
Anyway, it’s hard to imagine such a place doesn’t get a lot of traffic considering what it has to offer: world-class fishing in a pristine, alpine wilderness of solitude. Considering the means to get in, it quickly makes sense why it still is.
It’s no cakewalk.
For four hours you’ll be on switchback, one-way gravel roads going up and down mountains. When you get to the Bighorn Crags’s park entrance, you’ll notice that, if there are vehicles in the parking lot, they’ll all have Idaho plates; affirming that this little sliver of heaven is indeed America’s Best Kept Secret.
This is why it’s taken almost eleven months to post about the trip I took out there. Part of me wants to leave it to the locals out there to enjoy. Part of me wants to share what pristine really means in the Lower 48.
They have hiking trails, but they’re not as nicely maintained as the vast majority of others are. There are no showers; considering the gem colored waters, bathing and washing of dishes should be far out of reach of these priceless resources. Yes, you guess it, there aren’t even latrines.
That’s just fine, in my opinion. Leave it primitive. It’s much better that way.
I’d be hard pressed you’ll find a campsite better than what the Bighorn Crags offers. I’d find it perplexing if you find a place that offers such incredible fishing opportunities of native trout. I’d consider anything shy of the adjective, epic, to be an understatement of the experiences one gets from being out there.
If you want solitude, you’ll have to go at great lengths for it. If you want pristine, you’ll have to rigorously endure for it. If you want an elusive gold, you’ll have to dig deep in the box for it.
Heh, no wonder why it has become America’s Best Kept Secret.
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Want to see more of this land? Check out the next post, Life in the Crags.