Tastes grow with age...

    

Whew!  Finally getting that hot summer that everyone has been hoping for!  Mashing through thick brush wearing Carhartt’s and a long sleeve shirt in 85F sure makes one drink his Camelbak with earnest, oftentimes refilling half way through the day.   The underbrush is starting to turn a little yellow, the bees are coming out in full force, and the Huckleberries are ripening. 

 

We moved camp to the very Northwest corner of the Colville Reservation about a week ago.   It was a very gorgeous drive with large cedar trees lining the dirt road, awesome granite cliff faces, and Hall Creek running along the south side of the drive.

With every 100’ of gained elevation, it looked, smelled, and even really felt like I was back home.  If I didn’t know where I was, I would have thought I was 2 miles south of Canada at the tip of the panhandle of Idaho on my way to skinny dipping at American Falls. 

 

After setting up camp at what could have been the now defunct Shoe Tree, I went to work.  After an hour of very thick brush, I found my first ripe huckleberries of the season.  Knowing that a co-worker was a few hundred feet away hard at work, I yelled out ‘HUCKLEBERRIES!!!!’  and started getting my fingertips and lips purple with the fresh berries.  Since I had been working everyday for about a week and a half, I decided to look for more of those sweet hucks and took the day off to enjoy this new(although it felt like I’d been there for years) wilderness.  In about an hour, I picked enough huckleberries to last me(and the guys in camp, who were elated upon seeing the beauties) until today(about a week).  

 All of this huckleberry business got me thinking…I used to HATE going picking for those gorgeous, pleasurable, and tart orbs that bears, and humans alike, love for their taste and health benefits.  ‘Mommio’ used to tell me before bed at the Lake that I HAD to go berry picking with her in the morning, ‘bright and early, Timmer.’  GUHHHH, ‘why me? I don’t even like those nasty things!’ I’d say, as there was always my brother and ‘Daddio’ to go as well…I guess she liked my company better I’d like to think.   For a young kid at the Lake with so many fun things to do on or around the water, the last thing I wanted to do was go out in the woods to rummage around looking for gross huckleberries.  Somehow she’d get me to go out with her and our chocolate lab Tess to pick away at her secret spots anyway.  Tess loved it:  being off leash, running around, and actually eating the huckleberries right off the bush that you were picking, ‘GET OUTTA HERE, TESS!  This is MY patch!’   

 After years of despising picking with Mom, I finally started getting the itch.  It went from asking Mom if’ that was enough yet?’ (NOPE!, another GALLON!) to ‘ I found a JACKPOT!’   Soon enough I would be craving huckleberry pies, my Mom’s wonderful huckleberry bread with her homemade jams, and getting a Daiquiri at one of the many establishments around Priest Lake. 

 

I now have my own ‘secret’ huckleberry spots all around Priest Lake that I won’t tell anyone about(for if I did that, I’d have to kill them), and now have a new spot in the Colville Wilderness that will always be mine.  Huckleberries also got me to thinking:  I am definitely taking my daughter picking next week, whether she likes it or not! 

 

Anyway, after a wonderful day off to collect and enjoy myself, the rains came pouring down up in the mountains like a monsoon and I was very glad that I chose wisely and let the Huckleberry madness take over for a day.

The REZ

I just made the move to the Colville Indian Reservation just south of Kettle Falls, WA and West of Inchelium, WA.  The other guys I have been working and moving along with since the Cascades gave me a heads up before I headed over via phone conversation, 'It sucks, you should just stay home.'

Each designated campground in the area runs about $20 a night with an outhouse and no water if you are a non-member of the Confederated Tribes, so the guys set up camp in one of our stands about 10 miles west of Inchelium.  Here, we pay nothing as it is on Forest Capital Partners' land, but again, no water, no real suitable campsites, and you must pay a fee to obtain a fire burning permit.  It's hot, muggy, buggy, and 'primative' to say the least compared to previous living situations.  The boys were right, it sucks.

Unfortunately the town of Inchelium is stereotypically 'Rez Life', consisting of very poor 'indigenous' living in down-trodden homes with broken down cars everywhere,  cigarette cartons and beer cans all over the roads, and stores with poor selection except for beer and liquor(they were out of gasoline at the pumps).   There are a few properties along the way that are very clean and up kept, but overall they don't do the town much justice.  I took a few Northwest Native American Studies and Anthropology courses in school and know a lot about the history and situations the people are in, but man, this area is in a lot of hurt.

The land we are working on is very beautiful, however.  The south facing slopes are mainly arid with tall grasses and ponderosa pines, while the north facing slopes are scattered with hardwoods, western larch, and doug firs.  The brush is high in most places and tough to hike through, and the mosquitoes horrendous.

Though the hot weather, poor conditions, lack of water and resources are downers, camp the surroundings always brings some joy to the job(besides the cashola!).  I brought a guitar this time around to plunk around on and sing songs about mosquitoes in hell, we tell stories about our day, drink boxed wine and 16 oz. High Life, and generally talk poorly about the situation in an amusing tone.  It's tough sometimes livin' on the Rez, but there's always the idea that hey! we signed up for this, luckily it pays very well, the views are spectacular, and the company is great: