The Bat, the Smoke, and the Summit: A Scotchman’s Peak Love Story
Hike #9 - 8.3 Miles Up Scotchman's Peak in Clark Fork, Idaho
I woke at 4:00 am on Sunday morning to the sound of my dog barking. A bat was trapped in an air vent. It had gotten up the tube and was stuck, scrambling against the smooth metal surface like a mouse on a wheel.
Thanks to our cats, I’ve previously found baby squirrels, birds, and mice running around our living room in the wee hours of the night. I’ve always handled it on my own and told my husband, Ken, the next day. But a bat? It felt like too much for me.
But Ken has a sleep disorder. Waking him when he manages to rest is cruel. Plus, we planned to rise at 6:00 am to complete the 8.3-mile trek up Scotchman’s Peak in Clark Fork, Idaho. A celebration of our wedding anniversary. It’s where we married four years ago. A herd of white mountain goats served as our guests.
So, as the panicked bat struggled, I debated. To wake or not to wake, that was the question.
Finally, I returned to the bedroom, shook Ken’s shoulder, rousing him. Explained why.
“Can it wait two hours?” he asked.
I hesitated. “No.”
He slowly rose. Pulled on a pair of pants.
After some light arguing (“This could take hours!”) we caught the bat. I used a soup ladle to pull it out of the vent. Ken held a butterfly net over it.
“What were you so worried about?” He asked as I opened the back door.
“That it would die in the vent,” I said. “That it would die.”
When the bat flew off, I cheered.
“It could have waited,” he said.
I tossed out the ladle. We crawled back into bed, but neither of us slept.
We canceled our climb, planned to try the next day, but wildfire-polluted air from Spokane had blown in, thick, dense, and unmoving. The air quality index read “unhealthy.” Two more days passed.
Some might see this as an inauspicious start to a fourth wedding anniversary. But on Tuesday, we arose early again. Much of the smoke had dissipated. We filled our packs with water. Tossed our hiking poles into the back of our pickup. It jolted and bounced along the dusty, rutted road as we approached the trailhead.
There, we found a yellow piece of paper posted. The words “Bear on trail 8/01” were written on it in blue ink: two days earlier.
“Doesn’t say what kind of bear,” Ken said.
“Nope.” I touched the can of spray at my hip. Looked over to confirm he’d remembered his.
We entered the shady cedar forest. Traversed switchbacks. The soil was sandy and loose from lack of rain. With each step, dust swirled around my feet like smoke from tiny fires. The woods gave way to huckleberry shrubbed slopes. Ken picked off a small blue berry.
“Dry,” he said and spat.
The landscape soon changed again. We passed meadow grass that harbored grouse and green hillsides of lodgepole pine, stopping occasionally to admire the views of the Clark Fork River valley. The surrounding mountains seemed a vast ocean of green swells, endlessly rising and falling.
Just before the well-cut route transformed into a scramble of brown rocks and gray shale, about a mile from the peak, my calves began to burn. The type of hurt that comes with hard work and is followed by a just reward: a stronger body and, in this case, a moment to stand atop the world, an arm stretch away from the clouds.
When we reached our destination, we sat on ancient belt rock; the world around us dropping away off vertical cliffs. My eyes traced the ravines carved into the Cabinet Range to the east and the sharp stone edges of the Selkirks to the North. We chatted with other hikers. A group of college kids from Portland. A man from Houston and his friend from Florida. All astounded by the piece of heaven they’d found in Northern Idaho.
“You just missed a mountain goat. He went that way,” a smiling woman told us, pointing toward a narrow ledge.
We sipped water. The Texan offered to share his peanuts.
Soon, we began our descent.
“I love you,” Ken said.
“Happy Anniversary.” I smiled.
We saw goats on the way down. No bear, but the yellow warning note at the trailhead had changed. “Bear 8/4” it now declared. We were lucky we missed it.
Some might have called them bad omens - the bat, the smoke, the bear note. I see something else.
A woman who wakes her husband when she needs help.
A man who gets up, although he’d rather sleep.
Two people who wait out the smoke, then climb.
A bat flying free.
The world dropping away off cliffs.
Goats on the descent. No bear.
I see a love story with a happy ending.
JUST THE FACTS: Scotchman’s Peak Trail
Distance: 8.3 miles (total out and back)
Estimated Time: ~ 7 hours
Elevation Gain: 3,681 feet
Key Highlights: Mountain goats! Plus views of the Clark Fork River valley and the Cabinet and Selkirk Mountain ranges. Shady cedar forest, huckleberry-covered slopes, open meadows, and an ancient belt-rock summit.
Difficulty: Hard
Call for Comments: Have you hiked Scotchman’s Peak Trail? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Readers’ Hike to have your adventure highlighted.
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