Riding The Trail of the Couer d' Alenes

A young moose crossed the The Trail of the Couer d' Alenes bike path in front of us not far from Harrison, Idaho. After a brief stare down between marveling us and the bemused moose, the animal entered the river on the other side of the trail.

As we rolled into our camp at Harrison, Idaho, after a two-day 100-mile RT bike ride, PK dismounted and said, "Whew. I don't know whether we should be relieved or proud of our achievement."

I didn't know either, but I think it was both. Relief that we were off those torturous bike seats and proud that we'd managed to go the distance. 

Our ride started Tuesday, May 26. Skies were foreboding when I peeked out of the camper at 5 a.m. This was the big day we'd anticipated since we began planning this road trip a couple months earlier and, in a way, five years ago. In 2010 we'd tried the Trail as we were returning from a wedding extravaganza in Montana. It was also our first trip with the Four Wheel Camper.

Then we'd camped at Idaho's Heyburn State Park close to a trail access. We were in a rush to get home, but we managed to do a 20-mile out-and-back ride along the flat rails-to-trails bike path. It was heavenly, and we pledged to return someday. But on this chilly morning we shivered in the cool damp as we hiked uphill to a sweet little coffee and quiche place, The Tin Cup, in Harrison, where we were camped along Lake Coeur d' Alene. Over breakfast, we eavesdropped as the locals discussed the weather. It was going to shower off and on and a thunderstorm wasn't out of the question.

Today's ride was just shy of 50 miles from Harrison to Wallace, Idaho, and once we left Harrison, it would be about 37 miles to the nearest services, or shelter, in Kellogg, Idaho. Did we want to ride in the rain? Or chance a thunderstorm with no where to hide?

Even as we hashed it out, we pumped our tires and stashed snacks and overnight-stay stuff into our bike bags. We were going. What's the worst that could happen? We could get cold and wet?

No. The worst that could happen was we would regret that we'd wimped out and missed an experience and a place we believed to be worth the trouble it was to get here.  

The skies started spitting five miles out, and the dark clouds glowered. The shower was enough to dampen our clothes, if not our spirits. It looked like heavy rain ahead, and we stopped to put on what passes for rain gear in our biking wardrobes. Half an hour later, we ditched the rain gear. Other than an occasional sprinkle, and riding through puddles left behind by the angry clouds that kindly got ahead of us, we remained dry, warm, and mostly happy. I'll get to the "mostly happy" part later. 

  

We'd made the right decision, and we knew it as we glided through bird-filled marshes along a trail decorated by wildflowers. The Trail of the Coeur d' Alenes is a classic rails-to-trails ride - mostly flat, although our ride was slightly uphill the last 12 miles.

The Trail has water on one side or another for much of its 71-mile distance. (We rode just shy of 50, one way.) This is in the chain of lakes region where lakes, rivers, and marshes, and all the wildlife that loves such places, make for f great scenery and abundant wildlife. Very few people, though.

Still. Fifty miles, even on a mostly flat trail, is a long way for people of any age who aren't in great bike shape and neither PK or I are even close to what we were five years ago when we were training for a 65-mile bike event.  One thing that we are, though, is officially old.  I'm finally beginning to admit that things get harder......

As we rode, I took inventory of my infirmities brought into focus by remaining in a bike-riding (unnatural) posture for several hours. All body parts are affected, but one is paramount - the butt! Mine was feeling crushed and pulverized after only  20 miles with  80 miles to go, counting the return trip. Yikes! 

Somehow, when you ride frequently, the nether regions become hardened off.  Or something. You get used to the saddle. I'm broken in now and maybe in a week can jump back on the Specialized. 

PK just outside of Kellogg. Shall we stay or shall we go? 

We could have stayed in Kellogg and cut about 24 RT miles off, but by the time we got there and had lunch, I was revitalized, curious about the town of Wallace, which was being touted as a way better place to spend the night by Kellogg residents we talked with over lunch. And hell, I can do anything for the hour (about 12 miles) it would take to get there. Since I was suffering more than PK, he let me make the call. He was game either way.

Our first stop in Wallace was the Northern Idaho Brewery, City Limits, where we enjoyed congratulatory beers and were entertained by our exuberant wait person, Andrea Leveque, a total ski babe living the life here in the Idaho panhandle. 

Wallace lived up to its reputation as a town with "character," good food and lodging. It claims to be the "center of the universe." But I know people in Ashland, Oregon, who would dispute that.

We stayed at the Ryan Hotel, a vintage boutique place lovingly restored. This is the "lobby", second floor. We loved our suite, pampering ourselves after a day on the trail. If you're passing through Wallace on I-90 and want a classy yet affordable accommodation, give it a try.

PK checking out a Sprinter-type unit  along the bike trail near Kellogg.  I wouldn't be surprised if one of these is in our future.

The South Fork of Coeur d' Alene River not far from Kellogg. It looked healthy enough but locals said it, and all area creeks and rivers, are running at far less than normal flows.

A bit downstream, the Coeur d' Alene picked up volume and one boatload of trout seekers.

That adorable young moose, one more time.

At the end of the day, I had to repack in preparation for the next leg of our journey. Somehow, I managed to bring too much!

Road Tripping in the Four Wheel Camper-West to Midwest USA and Canada

Our Memorial Day campsite along Coeur d' Alene lakeshore  We're upscaling it with water
 and electricity and a million dollar view.

We're at the end of day two of a month-long road trip with our sturdy and efficient little friend, the Four Wheel Camper. We've taken numerous journeys with the camper, and I sometimes post afterwards. But what I have wanted to do is  an on-the-road  travelogue.

This is challenging, one, because we're often without wifi or cell phone service, and two, because I am lazy and undisciplined, a  person who is compelled to write but spends more time thinking about it than doing it.

And then there's the can't-make-things-work-photo-downloading issue that I'm gnashing my teeth over exactly now, as we're parked 10 feet from the shore of beautiful Coeur d Alene Lake in Harrison, Idaho, and rain is pounding the metal roof and we are discussing how to reach our rain gear in the back of the pick-up cab without getting wet, so that we can head over to a nearby restaurant/bar where they advertise $2 Jello shots and Jager Bombs, which we do not intend to order, but are nonetheless amused to see being prominently advertised. (The photo issue is solved but I"m leaving this paragraph in as it demonstrates the  frustration of computer problems and bursts of bad weather, especially at the same time, that drove me write a sentence of almost 100 words.) 

Whew. The rain has stopped. The light on the water is dramatic. I've downloaded one photo and am confident that more will appear. We're ready to see what the restaurant has to offer other than Jello shots and Jager bombs. (The burgers were authentic, smoky and good!)

En route to where are—Harrison, Idaho, which is an access point for the Trail of the Coeur d' Alenes—we had a couple of pleasant surprises. One was the proliferation of wind turbines all over the place in northeastern Oregon.

As we drove over curvy undulating country roads, hundreds and hundreds of giant turbines rose from fields of winter wheat. Often the tips of turbines would peek foot by foot (blades are about 50 feet long) from behind hills as we wound through gullies and over hillocks.

Then was the wonderful Cottonwood Canyon State Park, in its second season. We scored the last campsite on Sunday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend. Lucky us. The primitive camps - meaning we'd have to survive without electrical, water, or sewage hookups, cost $10 each. The campground is along the John Day River, which was swollen with brown water from recent  rains. A good thing to see while so much of the West is drought stricken.

Entrance to this Oregon State Park includes a museum and interpretive center.

Pinnacle Peaks trail along the John Day River out of Oregon's Cottonwood Canyon State Park in north central Oregon. If you go, bring a mountain bike to navigate the trails. Our road bikes? Not.

The John Day River was muscular, swirling with brown water on its way to the Columbia River.

That was yesterday. Our destination today was Harrison, Idaho, where we're poised to tackle a two-day bike ride up the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes tomorrow morning. Fifty miles up, 50 miles back. But we'll stay in a hotel in Wallace, Idaho, tomorrow night so we have time to gather energy for the return trip. Fifty miles isn't really that much, but neither one of us is in great bike shape. But hell. We have all day to get there. We have snacks. We have t i m e.

This is where we'll start tomorrow. Can't wait!