For reasons explained elsewhere in this issue, Kathy and her Old Man were unable to attend the annual convention of the Oregon­California Trails Association, Aug. 5­9, in Nampa, Idaho. But we're going to take our readers there anyway.

We would have left Tooele at 7 Monday morning, the 4th, but no way would we have taken the dismal 1­80 east to Salt Lake City, north on equally dismal 1­15; then northwest on stultifying 1­84. Rather, we would have turned left at Lake Point and driven west on dismal 1­80. We would have toughed it out past Wells, and turned north in Elko, Nevada, on Nev. 225.

We would have driven some ninety­eight miles north, along the east flank of the Independence Mountains, then soon on the National Scenic Byway along the north fork of the Humboldt River, right up to the Idaho line at Owyhee, Nev.

When in Idaho we would be driving on Id. 51, through the hamlets of Riddle and Grasmere, for almost sixty miles to near Bruneau—site of one of the convention tours a few days hence. There we would have turned west on Id. 78. About forty miles west of there we would have passed a little road leading southwest to Silver City—important to this Old Man. There his grandfather, Toot Henderson, had one of the most brutal jobs on earth—cutting wood to feed the voracious stamp mills in the 1890s. (Toot was just two years old when his father, Dr. William Hugh Stephen Henderson, left Iowa in 1859 to seek his fortune in Omega, Calif See related story in this issue.)

But we had more important things to do, so we would have continued north for a couple dozen more miles to our hotel, a short drive from the hub of the convention activities, Nampa's Convention Center.

Now let's get real. When I informed OCTA and a couple other close friends that I would have to be hospitalized in late July, Bob Dieterich made a terrible mistake: "What can I do to help?" he asked. So did Jess Petersen. So did Duane Iles. We have books to sell, and we kept our booth so they would indeed have something to do. They agreed to take turns, with OCTA staffers, in selling our books.

Dieterich is a brilliant nuclear physicist, now retired. He said that he'd be pleased to sell the books but he has a great deal of trouble making change. That led to much banter about him not going to college, finally to using his time in the booth to study for his GED.

The three good Samaritans converged in the book room Tuesday morning, displayed the books, and took turns monitoring the board of directors meeting. At 7 that night most of the conventioneers were in Nampa, and enjoying the OCTA band and the welcoming reception. Those are always a lot of fun, as some of those folks have been coming annually for twenty­six years. All wore their badges; nobody had to try to connect them with the faces. Some were toting their Convention Booklet—at sixty­eight pages more a book than a booklet. Many stopped in the auction room to place their bids on donated items.

This Old Man keynoted last year's Silver Anniversary convention in Gering, Nebraska (Scottsbluff); and this year it was Bob Meinen's turn—he's the head cheese at Idaho's Department of Parks and Recreation. The room was packed with more than 400 OCTAns. He was followed by the retiring National Preservation Officer, Dave Welch, who has more saves than the entire Red Sox bullpen. Other speakers followed the buffet luncheon, but the big event took place that night, at the annual awards banquet.

This year's Meritorious Achievement Award went to Larry Jones, a fixture at the Idaho State Historical Society. Larry has been bird­dogging thorny historical questions for as long as I've known him—probably since the late 1970s. The Elaine McNabney Volunteer Award was shared by Mary Ann Tortorich and Jerry Eichhorst; with the Distinguished Service Award going to Glen Corbeil, Mark Baltes, and Eleanor Craig. Special recognition went to the Bureau of Land Management—outstanding partners to the Idaho Chapter, This was an interesting twist—all too often OCTA chapters are raising hell with the BLM; in fact, that was one of the issues that prompted the formation of OCTA in 1982.

One bus tour stop was the ruins of the
Canyon creek Stage Station, southeast of Boise.

On Thursday morning, bleary­eyed conventioneers boarded the deluxe buses for tours of historic sites. These included the Boise Valley Oregon Trail, Goodale's Cutoff from Boise Valley to Cambridge, Idaho, two different Utter tragedy death sites. Another bus took hikers to a trailhead along Idaho's South Alternate, a five­mile romp; and the sixth offering traveled on the North Alternate and Kelton Road. That one returned to the convention center a little after 6 P.M., the others about five.

Thursday's activities included Author's Night, when Jess Petersen inscribed several of his new book, A Route for the Overland Stage.

The worn­out travelers packed the auditorium on Friday for a succession of talks, including one by Mary Michaelson on Phoebe Goodell Judson, which we most certainly would have attended. Phoebe was one of the diarists featured in our newest book, Seven Months to Oregon, on the 1853 covered wagon trip from Upstate New York to Oregon's Willamette Valley by four families of Methodist missionaries. Outgoing National Preservation Officer Dave Welch also spoke to the group. Welkch, who has more saves than the Red Sox bull pen, has agreed to become the chair of OCTA's Mapping and Marking Committee.

That evening concluded with a program by the Wapato Indian Club dancers, followed by the Bona Fide Band.

Saturday's activities started early, with just four bus tour offerings—two to sites of the Utter Massacre, the historic trail in Boise Valley, and a trip to Glenn's Ferry to witness the annual reenactment of the historic Three Island Crossing of the Snake River. This year the people and wagons made the trek safely, but not a mule, who drowned in the attempt.

A sturdy team of Percherons pull a wagon across the
Snake River during the Three Island Crossing reenactment.

Back to the Convention Center. Bob Dieterich, Jess Petersen, and Duane lies had already packed up the Patrice Press booth. Kathy Conway, OCTA's office manager, had asked Iles to go to a stationery store to pick up a large, festive poster board. All during the convention, people stopped by the booth, asking "Where’s the Old Man?" Nearly 100 wrote get­well wishes on it—Jess handled it carefully when putting it in his car for transport back to Tooele, with the few unsold books.

The twenty­sixth convention concluded with the traditional barbecue, this year at nearby McKellip Ponds. That is always a bittersweet experience, for the usual good­byes are exchanged, knowing that it would be another year before seeing those wonderful friends again. Only a handful remain from that charter convention in Independence, Mo., in 1983.

Even though we couldn't be there, we had heard enough about the efforts of Jim and Patti McGill plus the entire Idaho chapter for the success of the convention. We join with the BLM and so many others in commendation of the leadership. We look forward to Jim and Patti's forthcoming book on the Goodale family and the cutoff.

We thought about OCTA things that night, from the hospital bed. Jess came over a day or so after release from the hospital to deliver the proceeds from the book sale in the Patrice Press booth, after which he presented the panel bearing the cheerful messages from our friends. It's not easy to keep dry eyes dry, in situations such as that.