After moving to the wilds of Northernmost California I began
to view roads differently. They were not merely a route to get from one place to another.  I     came to know the roads I traveled as distinct 
personalities, with quirks, moods and senses of humor that changed as 
quickly as the weather.

The River Road

On the Salmon River, we lived at the 25-mile marker. It was a one lane 
paved road that followed the South Fork of the Salmon down to where it 
met the North Fork at (what else?) Forks of Salmon. From the 11-mile 
marker on the Main Fork to the 31-mile marker on the South Fork it was 
all one lane. Blind corners were de rigueur. There were turnouts all 
along the road as there were also many places so narrow that two cars 
could not pass by each other.

Road Etiquette

They had a saying on the River. “On one side of a mountain road is a 
mountain.” What this means is that on the other side of the road is the 
steep descent to the river. Sometimes in the winter, a part of the 
outside edge of the road would start to deteriorate. That is when some 
kind soul would put up a “Salmon River guard rail”. This consisted of 
three or four cantaloupe sized rocks spray painted fluorescent orange 
and set in orderly fashion along said edge. This was your clue to hug 
the mountain side of the road there.

Everyone had two CB radios. One in their cabin and one in their 
vehicle. Now it did not matter what kind                               North Fork Road looking up Music Creek
of vehicle you drove it was  generically
called a ‘rig’. Unless it was a four door pick-up truck, 
then it was called a ‘crummy’ and they usually were. The road channel 
was 18 and this was where everyone kept both of their radios, home and 
rig, tuned. When you were in your rig traveling the road you would call 
the mile markers that you passed. This would alert other drivers of 
your position and you would be able to pull into a turnout before 
meeting them head on.

A typical road conversation would go something like this.
“Mile marker 18 coming up the South Fork.”
“Mile marker 23 and a half coming down.”
“19 coming up”
“21 heading down”
“Come on by, I got a wide one”
“Be right there.”
A minute or two of silence, then,
“Mile marker 20 coming down the South fork”
“And one rig coming up.”

Sometimes you would hear, “Mile marker 24 coming up, there’s a rig 
headed down but they got no ears.” This meant it was a tourist or 
somebody else who didn’t have a CB radio so they couldn’t call the 
markers.

I soon became aware of another point of road etiquette. I had been 
calling the mile markers and knew a log truck was approaching. When we 
were about a half-mile apart I utilized a turnout and told him to come 
on by. I was surprised when the driver flashed me a peace sign, two 
fingers held up in a V. Wow, I thought, people here are really friendly 
and cool. I started to pull out onto the road when two more log trucks 
passed me in quick succession. So that was it. It was polite and safe 
to indicate how many rigs were coming behind you. It would be too noisy 
and confusing for every rig to call its mile markers. A log truck 
driver once held up both hands, all fingers spread emphatically. Sure 
enough, ten more log trucks passed in review as I kept my place on the 
turnout.

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