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With clear weather forecast for the next few days, I ventured deeper into the mountains toward the ghost towns of Custer and Bonanza. Following the Yankee Fork of the Salmon River north, I passed a tall cottonwood tree standing by the roadside. Its trunk, gnawed halfway through, must have been no match for the local beaver population. The notch was on the roadside and a few inches wide, suggesting that the tree would soon fall at some random moment. It almost felt as though t

I was meandering down a snow blanketed road in my truck camper like a giant white turtle in a sea of snow to check out the ghost town of

In a matter of moments after beginning my descent, I realized how big that fissure in the earth really was, and it was evident why that p...