Elk Bend, Idaho: Dugout Dick's Ice Cave Ranch

Our trip up the Salmon River to visit Dugout Dick's place in 1998 was one of the most memorable adventures of my life. I was intrigued by his counter-culture approach to life. This man is gentile, kind, intelligent, and very talented. He's the guy I would want with me in a survivalist situation.

When I read a [comment] by one of his "neighbors," I was very taken back by the judgmental mention of the "undesirables" that inhabit some of the cave homes. At our visit, I did observe some renters who exhibited signs consistent with mental imbalance. So what? Dugout's residences provided a place for anyone to call home. This man who used his uncanny ability to recycle junk into usable building materials or furniture has provided an invaluable contribution to the residents of Idaho who live nearby. Why, that man even kept accurate records of every dollar he received for rentals or tours. He said he wanted to be fair with his taxes. Dugout is one cool dude.

Dug Out Dick is now confined to the Discovery Care Center in Salmon, Idaho. There are a couple of residents [in the vicinity of the caves] but when Dugout passes away (he is 92) the area will be remanded to the Bureau of Land Management and hopefully cleaned up. It is a trashy blight on the Salmon River and collected all kinds of undesirable people to our area. Dug Out Dick squatted there for many years and had no water, adequate sanitary facilities or electricity. Probably is not a very safe place to take people, as there is much garbage and unsafe areas where people could get hurt. I live a mile or so from there and it is now harboring feral cats and dogs that no one takes care of.

The caves are not ice caves, they're just caves dug into the side of the hill overlooking the Salmon River. There is one cave, apart from the others, where frozen foods can be kept because of an icy breeze that flows from somewhere deep inside the mountain.

We deliver mail to Mr. Zimmerman, so we know he is not going into town to pick up his mail. Currently he drives a small foreign dark blue pickup, and is the one going at a slow pace on the right hand side of the road between the Twin Peaks Bridge (how you get to his place) and Salmon, Idaho, 18 miles to the north.

Just a quick note to those who visit: this is NOT a resort of any kind, and there are no directions or signs. Between Ellis, Idaho and Salmon, Idaho, there is only ONE bridge that spans the Salmon river. There is a sign about the Twin Peaks Ranch there. Go over that bridge, and instead of turning right to go to the ranch, turn LEFT to see the caves.

Off US 93 just north of Elk Bend, the antidote for the overcivilized world awaits. Dugout Dick's Ranch is a wonderful anachronism. Before Dick staked his claim in 1948, he busted sod, rode herd and rode the rails, and raised sheep and goats and hay, but now, as he explains with a sly grin, he's in the "tourist business." Personally-guided tours of his unique ranch only cost a buck, and for another smackaroo you can take as many pictures as you please.

Old age hasn't slowed thrifty Dick down -- you may find him hard at work refining his recycled rubber tire building technique. Some of his dwellings tunnel back into the hillside more than 100ft. He claims that several of the dugouts he rents out for $25 a month only cost him $10 to build using driftwood salvaged from the riverbank and sundry scavenged materials, including $1 car hoods and double-thick windshields. He's quite proud of his hand-hewn rock walls, which he rolled down the hill.

He says he started building by digging out caves in riverbanks when he was knee-high to a greashopper back in Indiana, but refined his building techniques during his shepherding days and migrated to Idaho in the early 1940s to work on a dairy farm.

If Dick's not around, check the orchard down by the river, or in the ice cave near the office, or just sit tight and wait a spell, he's probably in town checking his mail. If his cane is not by the "cave tour" sign, he's most likely out on his bicycle. Conversely, if his bike's there, he's most likely in his home, the one with the small solar panel on the roof.

You're strongly encouraged to stick around long enough to find out why both the goats are nicknamed "Nuisance," (the billy knocked Dick down the hill and broke his hip a few years back!). There's a choice of more than a dozen rubber tire houses, including a few cavernous abodes that will sleep up to 12 folks comfortably, depending on your definition of comfort, of course -- check them all out, then decide which one meets your needs.

If it's not rented, shack up in the cabin farthest up the hill on the left-hand side. Bring a warm sleeping sack, matches for the stove and some grub, toilet paper and a flashlight to find your way to the outhouse. Don't expect Dick to leave the light on for you -- there ain't one.