In the Facebook group "Idaho climbers" there is a post from a 5.11 follow guy who really wants to get to HC this weekend! He is in Kamiah, would drive down (so maybe other times can work?) and has never been there. Posted a link to this, hopefully he will pm you! Such a great opportunity for someone to try this spot out!
I had huge fun when my partner and I went. It was very surreal, though. We drove over very late at night, in August, when a huge fire was raging in SW Idaho. We could see the flames. Tons of wildlife, almost no lights at all, anywhere, as we came in on the totally deserted road.
I just plopped down on a tarp next to the truck, it was hot even at night, and didn't sleep much, maybe dozed. Mostly I ended up staring at the meteor shower and milky way, and the stars all the way to the horizon. Only heard one big guy shamble by in the night, presumably to the nearby toilet, otherwise it was only the river shushing along, and a few night birds.
I got up in the predawn, and since my partner (the rope gun and the one who had a clue what we were doing) was still asleep, I decided to walk around, see if anyone else in the campground was stirring.
Not another soul. Anywhere. Alison Creek camping turned out to be an ancient orchard. Old fruit trees and fruit tree seedlings everywhere. A beautiful grove of giant walnut trees, down by the river. It was peaceful and gorgeous.
Eventually, we made our way up the trail beside the creek, up the hillside, and got on our first ever limestone. Coming from black basalt, it was as different as it could be! I have no idea what we climbed, but it was easy enough I could manage it, as an old lady and pretty new climber.
We only climbed a few routes, before the heat had us staggering back down.
All along the trail? Scat. Huge, flattened out cow pies, filled with cherry pits. Hmmmmm....
I realized then the "big guy" shambling a few feet away from me that night was a black bear. And we were sleeping in the middle of the dining room. Yeah, cherries will do that to ya, big guy!
Best, Helen