A Canyon and Its Lore

By Loris Addington

I was feeling quite pleased with myself that summer morning in 1947. Dad had said I could go with him and my older brother Bruce to a place called No Business Canyon, the kind of trip usually reserved for the two of them.

We drove up Hornet Creek to Cuddy Mountain, although I’m not sure exactly where or how we got there. I was just an excited kid. Anyway, we drove into the high country of the Payette National Forest, where the trees are stunted and wildflowers strive to complete their life cycles before the snows come again. It’s the kind of country you can’t visit until summer, and if you’re there in the fall, you watch the sky carefully. There were no clouds on this day and the sky was a startling blue, the air so clear you could see for miles.

Somewhere on Cuddy Mountain, we reached a steep ridge. I looked over the edge and said, “Dad, why do they call it No Business Canyon?”