Since graduating high school, I have always wanted to drive across the country. I have spent the majority of my life on the East Coast. Don’t get me wrong, the eastern seaboard is beautiful, but I’ve always had a soft spot for snowcapped mountain peaks, and driving through them always sounded like the best way to experience that scenery. Last summer, I finally got a mini version of that road trip.
The trip started in Boise, where a buddy from high school has lived for the last year or so. He has been driving the same five-speed 2008 Honda Accord since high school and brought it out here when he moved — the car market has not given him the opportunity to jump into a more purposeful pick-up truck. Thus, it served as the protagonist in this first part of my road trip through the Pacific Northwest.
The Accord likely was at one point, and still very well could be, a very nice little car. The front seats are both leather and heated. The AC is still strong enough to counteract the dry, 100 degree-plus days of Boise summers. The speakers blasted our 15-hour playlist of country music without complaint. The shift-it-yourself five speed clicks through the gears as reliably as any Honda transmission should, and the VTEC engine provided just enough power (and I mean, barely enough) to overtake the countless campers and logging trucks holding up the two-lane highways. But after having spent four years in Philadelphia and now another year out west, the car was starting to show its age. The steering rack made a horrible grinding noise when conducting a U-turn, and the drivetrain begged for an alignment as the steering wheel itself needed to be tilted slightly to the left to keep the car traveling in a straight line. Regardless, it was what we had to work with, and the mountains were calling.
So the two of us, along with another high school friend, loaded our camping gear into the Accord and headed for a remote-access trailhead in the Frank Church Wilderness of northeastern Idaho. The Accord reliably navigated the first four hours or so of twisty mountain roads. Google Maps indicated we had about 2.5 hours left, but only 30 miles left to go to reach our trailhead. How could that be possible, you ask? Unpaved dirt roads is how. Without hesitation, my friend downshifted into second and directed the Accord where Google was leading us — somehow without anymore cell service. “We don’t need a truck for this — you should see what other people do to their cars out here,” he said as he turned up the country music and rolled down the windows.
His ambition slowly but surely turned into hesitation as we climbed up the mountain. Our room for error drastically decreased as the drop off the side of the road turned treacherous, and we kept having to stop to clear rocks out of our path that the Accord didn’t have enough clearance for. Then, the sunshine gave way for gray clouds that started rumbling. We only had 8 more miles until our destination, but getting a front-wheel drive Accord stuck in a thunderstorm at 8,000 feet above sea level was not on my road trip bucket list, and our driver finally conceded it wasn’t on his either. As the rain started coming down, I threw on my jacket and helped him navigate a crazy nine-point turn to get us facing back down the hill. I jumped behind the wheel to give my buddy a break and undo the progress we had made.
The thunderstorms spared us, and just as the sun started to set, we finally reached paved road again. We agreed to spend the night at a campsite accessible by all passenger vehicles along the main highway, then come up with a plan B the next morning.
We stopped for breakfast at a quaint little place called Wally’s Cafe in the small town of Salmon, Idaho — a town that appeared as if it was taken out of a 70s western, with only the paved roads showing it had kept up with the times. We then set off for the Buck and Bear Valley Lakes trailhead, only about an hour south and with a much more manageable stretch of roads, albeit still not entirely paved. We embarked on a grueling five mile hike to reach the lakes, but were rewarded by a quiet couple days of fishing and stargazing that only the mountains of Idaho can offer.
When it was time to head back down the mountain, I was grateful to the Accord for taking the thirty pounds of camping gear off my back and its functioning AC for offering a reprieve from the sun. I got back behind the wheel as we made our way through the stunning scenery of the Salmon-Challis National Forest and past the fascinating anomaly that is the Craters of the Moon National Monument. With only a quick stop for lunch in the town of Arco (the first city in the world to be powered solely with nuclear power and where they only serve fried pickles to the locals, apparently), we were back in Boise well before sunset.
From the re-release of the “take you anywhere Bronco” to the extra plastic cladding slapped on some boring crossovers, the car industry has done everything it can to keep up with the dramatic increase in popularity of outdoor excursions. Where the industry has failed is in making these vehicles actually obtainable for many people, whether it be a result of chip shortages or insane dealer mark-ups. Enter the 2008 Accord. No, it didn’t quite get us to our original destination, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. And we still got a hell of a trip through the mountains out of it. My point is this — pack whatever tin can with four wheels you have and head for the outdoors. They’re pretty great.
