© 2010 Brian Davidson/Uncharted
Photos by Michelle and Brian Davidson

I’ll admit I’m not the brightest penny in the fountain.

I constantly forget computer passwords. I’m always looking for my keys. And for a few years, I lost my favorite hiking trail.

Worse yet, I thought I’d lost it to them. Those people. The kind who take their equine companions everywhere, littering the landscape with fragrant, slippery road apples – never a pleasant situation when you’re the one on foot, playing human mule to your own backpack and tent.

Over the Fourth of July weekend, however, I was thrilled to find I was mistaken. And in light of my new motto, “Suck A Little Bit Less Every Day,” I’m here to confess my stupidity and make amends with my horse-loving brothers and sisters. Whomever they are.

The trail in question leads to the Palisades Lakes in eastern Bonneville County, Idaho. I first hiked the trail as a boy scout and, because of the fuzzy photos I was able to take with my mother’s Kodak Instamatic camera of that trip, it remains one of my most vivid scouting memories. The sights along the trail – where you slowly wander into a shallow, narrow canyon filled with the rippling water of Palisades Creek, wild strawberries, piles of basaltic rock on one hand, and metamorphic rock on the other, with everything shrouded in trees – is what keeps me going back.

Or did, until a few years ago, when I thought the trail had been lost to the horsey set.

Horses have always been a part of the trail: walking past the beasts, their riders encouraged us to talk to the horses so they knew we’re coming. But back a few years ago, when the U.S. Forest Service reconfigured the campground, relocated the trail head, and added corrals and staging areas for the horse-lovers, I thought the trail was lost to me. I couldn’t find where it started, and didn’t feel like walking down the narrow, apple-infested trail we found at the campground.

Pity, I thought. I remembered the place with much fondness. Remarkable, considering what happened the last time we went up the trail: I took my wife to the upper lake shortly after we got married in 1997, and we got drenched. The lake was high, so the campground I picked out beforehand was waterlogged. We got rained on all night. The tent leaked. We slept in a puddle. There were so many drips from the clouds and trees it sounded like we had a herd of horses outside the tent all night. As we hiked out the following morning, after a cold breakfast because there was no dry wood for the fire, a few other hikers passed us. "Were you camped out at the Upper Lake?" one of them asked. “Yes,” we answered. "Rough night, wasn't it." We had to agree.

But we both wanted to go again, drawn by the beauty. The lower lake, four miles in, was formed when a landslide partially blocked the canyon, damming the spring-fed Palisades Creek. The lake offers a quiet reverie in the widening canyon beyond the roar of the creek. On the trail along the lake’s northern bank, one of the many springs in the area bubbles from the canyon wall. The water there is fresh and good for drinking – though as my brother can tell you, you’ve got to be careful not to get a newt in your canteen. The upper lake is a further three miles into and out of the canyon. The last mile of trail is up a steep switchback, so be ready for a little legwork. The hike is worth it, though. The lake is cool for swimming even in the summer and, at its far end, features a waterfall and another spring for fresh water. The upper lake has no flowing outlet: water merely oozes through the canyon wall to emerge as a spring at Palisades Creek below.

Thanks to my niece, I now know the trail still exists for flatfoots like me. On previous occasions, I got confused by those boy scout memories and insisted on trying to go through the campground to find the trail, even though the U.S. Forest Service has some rather large, helpful signs up that say you can’t access the trail via the campground any more. The signs also say a new trailhead for hikers like me is located just to the north of the campground, just off a nice parking lot and next to the bathrooms.

Once in the right place, once across a small bridge, we were back on the trail I remembered. “Suck a little bit less every day,” I reminded myself. Boy, does it feel good to unload a good portion of self-derp.

It will take time to walk this trail, simply because there are many spots along the way where you will want to stop and soak in the atmosphere. Just as I remembered.

About a half-mile in from the trailhead, for example, look for an odd rock formation on the north canyon wall. If you squint your eyes just right and look at the little rock poking up between the two big rocks, it kinda looks like Darth Vader standing there, leaning into the wind a bit, contemplating his ultimate badness as he stares out over the canyon. Consequently, I am irresistibly drawn to the name Sith Lord Rock.

Also along the trail are spots where hikers can descend to gravel beaches along the creek to watch and listen to the water. At one of the many waterfalls along the route, we stop to let our kids poke around the beach, collecting a few of the many snail shells.

Snails aren’t the only wildlife here, of course. Aside from the traditional Idaho birds and rodents, lucky (and quiet) folks have also seen bear, moose, and mountain goats in the canyon.

The trail changes with the seasons. In the spring, with patches of snow still evident, the creek thunders as snowmelt supplements the springs. In summer, the canyon offers a cool, nearly windless respite from the heat. And in fall the canyon erupts with turning leaves of every color and variety. For those hiking in late August, if the birds haven’t gotten them first, you can enjoy some wild Idaho strawberries. They’re typically no bigger than a pea, but make up for it in terms of flavor.

As mentioned before, this is a trail for wandering, not necessarily one for conquering the miles. We took our kids on the trail and, with the exception of the ten-year-old who complains a lot anyway, we had a wonderful time observing nature and walking just far enough to see what was around the next bend. My niece took her two kids – both three and under – and they enjoyed exploring as well. A mile in was sufficient for the day’s adventure. As for the upper lake, we’ll wait for our kids to get a little older – and tougher – before we strap on our overnight packs and go the full distance.

But at least I know it’s there still, ready for us to come. I won’t lose this trail ever again.

Getting There: From Idaho Falls, travel east on US 26 about 35 miles past the city of Irwin, Idaho. Watch for a road sign that reads “Palisades Creek,” for a road leading off to the north (your left). If you reach the Palisades Dam, you’ve gone too far. Turn around and watch for the first road on your right.

Follow the road – a well-graded dirt road – into the mountains to the north for about 2 ½ miles. As you near the parking area, don’t cross the bridge – that’ll take you to the campground and horse corrals. Instead, watch for another short road again to the north, which will take you to the hiking trailhead. Start your walk from there.

Camping: My advice is if you want to camp in the area, don’t camp at the base campground. It’s always full and noisy. Instead, pack light and pack your gear to the campground at the base of the lower lake. You’ll get a lot more solitude there, and be completely isolated from any light so you can watch the stars and that Idaho Milky Way emerge at night. You’ll also have better chances for wildlife viewing at that campground, especially if you arise with the sun.

More adventurous folk may choose to camp at one of the camping spots that ring the upper lake. Just plan on a more strenuous hike to get there. Camping at both lakes is done on a first come, first served basis.

Insider info: Stop at the Swan Valley Commissary (at the intersection of U.S. 26 and Idaho Highway 31 in Swan Valley, for a square ice cream cone, one of the area’s traditional curiosities. The Angus restaurant in Swan Valley is also a good local greasy spoon, with emphasis on the grease. For a chuckle, stop at “The Dam Store” in Palisades, where you can find homemade Idaho treats.