I woke up feeling great. The bushwhack was over, it was sunny, and I was with four other hikers. We had a 3000-foot climb to tackle, but at this point, that felt like just a normal day on the PNT. I packed up slower than everyone else and was the last to leave the campsite.

Rainwater seeping down from the hills (taken the previous evening)

The climb up to Lookout Mountain was on an old forest road bed, which meant a gentle grade with long switchbacks for most of the way. I stopped at the first stream, which was more like a waterfall gushing uncontrollably off of the mountain. The force of the water was so strong that I lost my grip on my water bladder. I watched with horror as it careened over the edge, but luckily it got caught on some sticks right below.

The rest of the climb was uneventful. It was sunny and I felt happy. I was climbing at a grueling pace and pretty quickly overtook C.M., M.S., Bugs, and Moose. I kept climbing until I made it to the very top of the mountain.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over the absolute joy of spending hours hiking up a mountain to get to a lookout at the top. It’s an experience of euphoria that, no matter how many times it happens to me, never gets old.

I sat down next to the lookout tower for a really early lunch, visually mapping out the Lion’s Head alternate climbing route (the dotted line on the first map) that I had originally wanted to take instead of the low bushwhack. It looked like a tough rock scramble, and I was so glad I didn’t get stuck up there in the thunderstorm. But I couldn’t help feeling a little bit disappointed. If only we had spent another day rotting in Bonner’s Ferry…

When I took out my camera to take a picture, it… didn’t turn on. The thing was totally busted, since I left it in my hip belt pocket during the wet bushwhack. That was a disappointment, but I knew those cameras were pretty cheap on eBay now, so I planned to order one soon. So then I took out my phone to take a picture, and noticed a big black spot in the upper-right corner of the screen. More water damage, and this one would be more expensive to fix.

Bugs and Moose made it up next, and we hung out for a while taking in the view together. We could see Upper Priest Lake to the west, where we would be spending the night. I left before them to start the long descent from the summit. I was still feeling good, and I took the descent pretty fast, sometimes breaking into a jog. I stopped for water at a pond (NE of 288.2P) and continued hiking.

One particular road crossing (marked by the big B on he map) took me a while to figure out - there was nothing marking the old, unmaintained trail leading down from the forest road. I spent 15 minutes or so walking back and forth along a 0.1-mile stretch of road, peering into the forest off the side of the road to look for signs of a trail. When I finally found it, I left a rock cairn behind marking the trail for my friends behind me.

Not long after I picked up the trail again, I ran into a seemingly-endless huckleberry patch. I broke out a gallon ziploc bag and took a 20-minute break to collect as many berries as I could. Wild huckleberry picking is hard work! They don’t grow in dense clusters like cultivated berries do, so you can spend a lot of time and not have much to show for it. I also probably ate as many as I collected, so that didn’t help.

I thanked the huckleberry plants and moved on down the trail, stopping again briefly to admire a small strand of ancient cedar trees.

At the bottom of the next forest road, I cut over to the Idaho Centennial Trail, which was coincident with the PNT for 15 miles or so. The trail was easy and flat, and somewhat torn up from bikes. After one stream crossing (for which I opted to soak my shoes instead of taking them off), I stopped for a while and chatted with some mountain bikers long enough for Bugs and Moose to catch up with me. I sat munching on huckleberries while I watched them decide how to cross the stream. Bugs took off her shoes and just went for it, casually bragging about her tough feet. Moose was a bit more cautious – he worked his way slowly across the stream, periodically exclaiming “Ow!”, and “These rocks HURT, man!”

We set up camp at an established site by Upper Priest Lake with some day-hikers – I chatted with them at dinner while Bugs and Cookie Monster took a dip in the lake. I was in a good mood that evening, still carried by the accomplishment of finishing the bushwhack the previous day.