Wow, it's Thursday, 26 June. I hitchhiked from Dilworth, MN to Motley yesterday, and arrived here a day early to surprise my mom and sisters. It worked! Anyway, I'm very tired from a month on the road, and I'm taking a break here. I'll probably stick around here for 2 weeks or so, then head down to my dad's for a week, and spend a few days in the Twin Cities as well before getting back on the road.
If you want to know when my feet hit the pavement again but don't want to check the blog every day to find out, shoot me an email. I will probably do some occasional updates and maybe tinker a little bit here at the blog, but I'll be mainly relaxing for the next 3 weeks or so, before continuing on.
Thanks for reading, and keep in touch!
Derek
Monday
22 June: Rugby to Grand Forks
When I awoke on Sunday morning, I decided to get up, so that when people began stirring in the RV park they wouldn't discover me. After a quick tear-down, I went across the highway to the gas station, where I got a pumpking muffin for breakfast. I nearly didn't eat it, because the inside was a strange green color all the way through that surely indicated some sort of artificial color -- why was that necessary? I was hungry though, and figured they probably wouldn't give me my money back because I didn't like the color of the muffin, so I ate it. There was absolutely no traffic on the highway yet, so I sat for a while, reading, and made a sign for Grand Forks. I decided to try retiring the Devils Lake sign and just get all the way to Grand Forks.
At about 8:00, I headed out onto the highway. The man working at the gas station counter told me that I might as well wait a couple hours because traffic didn't really get going until later, but I was sick of sitting there so I went out to start working anyway. He was right, it was slow going. I talked with some bikers who were stopping for coffee, but other than that there was very little of interest for about an hour and a half. Finally, around 9:30, Tim and his nephew, Jeremy, stopped for me. They were going all the way go Grand Forks. I was thrilled, I'd cover all 148 miles in one shot.
Tim & Jeremy were fun to talk to, there were a lot of jokes and funny stories. They dropped me off in downtown Grand Forks (right at a coffee house that had been recommended to me, thanks to their GPS), where I had some sorely needed caffeine and called Linnea. She came to pick me up, and I spent the afternoon relaxing at the apartment and recovering from my marathon hitchhiking days.
At about 8:00, I headed out onto the highway. The man working at the gas station counter told me that I might as well wait a couple hours because traffic didn't really get going until later, but I was sick of sitting there so I went out to start working anyway. He was right, it was slow going. I talked with some bikers who were stopping for coffee, but other than that there was very little of interest for about an hour and a half. Finally, around 9:30, Tim and his nephew, Jeremy, stopped for me. They were going all the way go Grand Forks. I was thrilled, I'd cover all 148 miles in one shot.
Tim & Jeremy were fun to talk to, there were a lot of jokes and funny stories. They dropped me off in downtown Grand Forks (right at a coffee house that had been recommended to me, thanks to their GPS), where I had some sorely needed caffeine and called Linnea. She came to pick me up, and I spent the afternoon relaxing at the apartment and recovering from my marathon hitchhiking days.
21 June: Culbertson to Rugby
On Saturday I awoke actually feeling refreshed. I got up later than I had planned, and wasted some time wandering around town looking for a little food. All I wanted was a couple granola bars or Clif Bars or something of that nature, but of the three gas stations in town, the only one that hadn't closed down was the one without a convenience store. So instead I had a breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches and the same tired granola bars I'd been slowing eating all week.
I walked to the edge of town and started hitchhiking. And hitchhiking, and hitchhiking. After I'd been going for about 90 minutes, a Montana State Trooper drove by. He turned around, came back, and stopped. He got out and chatted with me for a bit, then informed me that hitchhiking is illegal in Montana. I thought that was pretty ironic, given the number of police officers of various agencies that had passed me while hitchhiking and just waved. Now here I was, about 25 miles from the border, and one actually stops to tell me I can't do it!? He thought it was a little funny, too. He took my license for a bit to check my record (none, thankfully), then came back and said, "like I said, it's illegal... but once I'm gone, what you do is what you do. It's legal to walk on the road, so you'll be okay." As he got back into his car, he said, "Good luck. Stay hydrated." I took that as a license to walk a little outside town and continue my endeavor.
I walked about 4 miles out of town, and started hitchhiking again, but I couldn't find a spot with a shoulder for drivers to pull of onto. Just when I was convinced that no one was going to stop, a pickup stopped for me. The driver was Jim, and he was working on installing fiber-optics back in Medicine Lake, but on his way to Williston to go garage-saling. He drove me into Williston, quickly checked out some garage sales, stopped to check his email for a bit, and then drove me outside town, going about 13 miles out of his way to get me to where US-2 headed east again.
After Jim dropped me off I decided it was time for a fresh application of sunscreen. While I was in the middle of it, a van approached so I stuck my thumb out. The driver was Bill, who uses his van to haul freight (mostly car parts) all over northern North Dakota. He drove me to Minot, where we parted ways when he turned south to go home.
Minot was downright awful. I was at a truckstop, where I made a sign for Devils Lake (my destination for the day), and stood by the exit onto the highway. The highway here was four lanes and moving fast, so I didn't think it would be a good place to hitchhike. After 90 minutes of trying to get a ride from the parking lot though, I changed my mind and stepped out onto the highway. I was given one bottle of Dr. Pepper, one king-sized Snickers, one liter of Dasani water, a small bag of nacho cheese Doritos, and offered five dollars, but no ride. And then, a North Dakota State Trooper drove by, turned around, came by again, and stopped.
Twice in one day.
This time he chatted a bit, took my license to check up on me, came back, chatted a bit more, wished me luck, and took off. No mention of hitchhiking being illegal in North Dakota (which it is).
I started hitchhiking again, and finally, hearing a noise behind me, I turned around and saw a car backing up toward me. Finally! I threw my pack in the back seat, got in, and we were off to Rugby, from where my driver had to turn south.
Minot had stolen 3 hours from me, and it was starting to get dark. I decided to give up on Devils Lake for the night and try to get all the way to Grand Forks in the morning. I poked around a bit looking for a place to camp, and finally decided that the huge bus lot (there must've been at least 100 buses on this lot, some new, some used) was a good candidate; it abutted a campground with some trees in between them, and there were definitely spaces between the buses and the trees where I would remain unseen from the road. People in the RV park, however, might be able to see me through the trees if they wandered over to the picnic table in the morning.
I set my tent up and climbed inside. Unfortunately, I was so afraid that someone had seen me cross the highway into the bus lot and called the police that every little noise I heard freaked me out. As a result, I didn't get to sleep until midnight or 1:00, and after that slept fitfully until only 5:15.
I walked to the edge of town and started hitchhiking. And hitchhiking, and hitchhiking. After I'd been going for about 90 minutes, a Montana State Trooper drove by. He turned around, came back, and stopped. He got out and chatted with me for a bit, then informed me that hitchhiking is illegal in Montana. I thought that was pretty ironic, given the number of police officers of various agencies that had passed me while hitchhiking and just waved. Now here I was, about 25 miles from the border, and one actually stops to tell me I can't do it!? He thought it was a little funny, too. He took my license for a bit to check my record (none, thankfully), then came back and said, "like I said, it's illegal... but once I'm gone, what you do is what you do. It's legal to walk on the road, so you'll be okay." As he got back into his car, he said, "Good luck. Stay hydrated." I took that as a license to walk a little outside town and continue my endeavor.
I walked about 4 miles out of town, and started hitchhiking again, but I couldn't find a spot with a shoulder for drivers to pull of onto. Just when I was convinced that no one was going to stop, a pickup stopped for me. The driver was Jim, and he was working on installing fiber-optics back in Medicine Lake, but on his way to Williston to go garage-saling. He drove me into Williston, quickly checked out some garage sales, stopped to check his email for a bit, and then drove me outside town, going about 13 miles out of his way to get me to where US-2 headed east again.
After Jim dropped me off I decided it was time for a fresh application of sunscreen. While I was in the middle of it, a van approached so I stuck my thumb out. The driver was Bill, who uses his van to haul freight (mostly car parts) all over northern North Dakota. He drove me to Minot, where we parted ways when he turned south to go home.
Minot was downright awful. I was at a truckstop, where I made a sign for Devils Lake (my destination for the day), and stood by the exit onto the highway. The highway here was four lanes and moving fast, so I didn't think it would be a good place to hitchhike. After 90 minutes of trying to get a ride from the parking lot though, I changed my mind and stepped out onto the highway. I was given one bottle of Dr. Pepper, one king-sized Snickers, one liter of Dasani water, a small bag of nacho cheese Doritos, and offered five dollars, but no ride. And then, a North Dakota State Trooper drove by, turned around, came by again, and stopped.
Twice in one day.
This time he chatted a bit, took my license to check up on me, came back, chatted a bit more, wished me luck, and took off. No mention of hitchhiking being illegal in North Dakota (which it is).
I started hitchhiking again, and finally, hearing a noise behind me, I turned around and saw a car backing up toward me. Finally! I threw my pack in the back seat, got in, and we were off to Rugby, from where my driver had to turn south.
Minot had stolen 3 hours from me, and it was starting to get dark. I decided to give up on Devils Lake for the night and try to get all the way to Grand Forks in the morning. I poked around a bit looking for a place to camp, and finally decided that the huge bus lot (there must've been at least 100 buses on this lot, some new, some used) was a good candidate; it abutted a campground with some trees in between them, and there were definitely spaces between the buses and the trees where I would remain unseen from the road. People in the RV park, however, might be able to see me through the trees if they wandered over to the picnic table in the morning.
I set my tent up and climbed inside. Unfortunately, I was so afraid that someone had seen me cross the highway into the bus lot and called the police that every little noise I heard freaked me out. As a result, I didn't get to sleep until midnight or 1:00, and after that slept fitfully until only 5:15.
20 June: East Glacier to Culbertson
I woke up at about 6:00 Friday morning, not feeling very refreshed. I quickly changed, packed up, and got moving, before the crowd started to form for the early train. I was a little surprised and relieved that no security guards or sheriff deputies had bothered me during the night.
I walked back down to the gas station to discover it didn't open until 7:00, so I stepped out onto the highway and started hitchhiking. At about 7:10, someone stopped for me. It was Pete, who has taught school for 27 years in Browning. He drove me to Cut Bank and dropped me off in the middle of town, where he turned off to go to the school.
I walked to the opposite end of town and stuck my thumb out. I had made a sign that read "SHELBY," but it turns out that across Montana, US-2 (also known as "the Hi-Line") is mainly a locals' highway, which meant that very few people were traveling that far. This was to be a day of short hops. In Cut Bank, I eventually got picked up by DG, who was, fortunately, headed to Shelby.
DG dropped me at a gas station, where chatted with a couple Itepped out onto the corner and stuck my thumb out, also holding up a sign reading "HAVRE," and was quickly picked up by an older man named Mark. He took me to Chester.
Mark dropped me off at a grocery store on the edge of town. I refilled my water and started hitchhiking again. After a few minutes, I was picked up by Bo, who I found out after some conversation actually knew my previous driver. He dropped me off on the highway outside of Rudyard, which truly felt like the middle of nowhere.
I waited less than ten minutes before being picked up by Tyler, who was surprised to see me there because he had just passed that spot a couple minutes before I got dropped off there. Tyler is in the National Guard and had just returned two weeks ago from a one-year tour in Iraq. He took me the rest of the way to Havre.
Havre's main street was under construction. I had to walk about three miles from one end of town to the other, all through a dusty construction zone, and all on mounds of dirt because the sidewalks had been torn up. I ignored all of the "SIDEWALK CLOSED" signs because there was no other direct route to where I was going.
I stopped to eat, used the bathroom, and made a sign that said "WILLISTON" -- I wanted out of Montana by nightfall; this state just stretches on far too long! I walked about a mile out of town, held up my sign and thumb, and in about 20 minutes I was picked up by Chris, who was on his way to Malta to perform a wedding.
Chris dropped me off in front of the Hitching Post Cafe in Malta. It was hot, and I'd been traveling since about 7:00 (it was now 4:15), so I decided to treat myself to a milkshake. I went inside and discovered that I was the sole customer. The waitress was lounging and reading. I plopped my pack down, propped it against the wall, and took a seat at the counter. I inquired about a milkshake, and she told me chocolate and strawberry would blend the best, so I chose strawberry, and a cup of coffee. I was getting very tired. After an hour or so of enjoying my milk shake, two cups of coffee, and chatting and flirting a bit with the waitress, I decided it was time to get to the road again.
I took my sign out and hitchhiked directly across the street from the Hitching Post. After 25 minutes, Chance & Andrew stopped for me. They were on their way to Wolf Point, which the friendly waitress had cautioned me against spending the night in, but Mark (my driver from Shelby to Chester) had grown up there and told me it would be okay, "just don't get stuck in Poplar." Wolf Point took a while to get out of. The local police officer kept driving out to check on me, but never said anything. One man stopped and offered me a ride to Poplar, which I declined, thinking of what I'd been told about getting stuck there. He sort of made fun of me for not accepting his ride, saying, "You think you'll have better luck here?" I told him not necessarily, but I'd rather spend the night in Wolf Point than Poplar. He nodded, as if agreeing with me, wished me luck, and took off. Eventually, Dwight stopped in his pickup for me. He was on his way to Bainville (near the North Dakota border), but had to stop in Poplar for a few minutes to visit the priest (his brother had just died today).
Dwight dropped me off in front of LeeAnn's Motel in Poplar, so I could try for a ride to Williston while he was talking to the priest. He said if I were still there when he came by, he'd pick me up again and drive me to Bainville. After 10 minutes or so, just as it was starting to get dark, the guy who had originally stopped for me in Wolf Point pulled up and said, "you made it here after all." I told him the story, and he said, "You really can't be here once it gets dark. How about if I give you a ride to Culbertson, just outside the reservation, and you can wait for the guy there." I was a little uncertain, but I decided to take him up on the offer.
In the end, it proved to be a good decision. He drove me to a park right in Culbertson where I could camp for free (in fact, there was already another tent up with three bicycles and a ton of gear left outside it -- gutsy, I thought). After deliberating about whether to try to catch Dwight again, I decided that since it was already dark I'd be better off just going to sleep.
I set up my tent, crawled inside, looked at my map and my little log book, and did some calculating:
438 miles
9 rides
15 hours
No wonder I was tired!
I walked back down to the gas station to discover it didn't open until 7:00, so I stepped out onto the highway and started hitchhiking. At about 7:10, someone stopped for me. It was Pete, who has taught school for 27 years in Browning. He drove me to Cut Bank and dropped me off in the middle of town, where he turned off to go to the school.
I walked to the opposite end of town and stuck my thumb out. I had made a sign that read "SHELBY," but it turns out that across Montana, US-2 (also known as "the Hi-Line") is mainly a locals' highway, which meant that very few people were traveling that far. This was to be a day of short hops. In Cut Bank, I eventually got picked up by DG, who was, fortunately, headed to Shelby.
DG dropped me at a gas station, where chatted with a couple Itepped out onto the corner and stuck my thumb out, also holding up a sign reading "HAVRE," and was quickly picked up by an older man named Mark. He took me to Chester.
Mark dropped me off at a grocery store on the edge of town. I refilled my water and started hitchhiking again. After a few minutes, I was picked up by Bo, who I found out after some conversation actually knew my previous driver. He dropped me off on the highway outside of Rudyard, which truly felt like the middle of nowhere.
I waited less than ten minutes before being picked up by Tyler, who was surprised to see me there because he had just passed that spot a couple minutes before I got dropped off there. Tyler is in the National Guard and had just returned two weeks ago from a one-year tour in Iraq. He took me the rest of the way to Havre.
Havre's main street was under construction. I had to walk about three miles from one end of town to the other, all through a dusty construction zone, and all on mounds of dirt because the sidewalks had been torn up. I ignored all of the "SIDEWALK CLOSED" signs because there was no other direct route to where I was going.
I stopped to eat, used the bathroom, and made a sign that said "WILLISTON" -- I wanted out of Montana by nightfall; this state just stretches on far too long! I walked about a mile out of town, held up my sign and thumb, and in about 20 minutes I was picked up by Chris, who was on his way to Malta to perform a wedding.
Chris dropped me off in front of the Hitching Post Cafe in Malta. It was hot, and I'd been traveling since about 7:00 (it was now 4:15), so I decided to treat myself to a milkshake. I went inside and discovered that I was the sole customer. The waitress was lounging and reading. I plopped my pack down, propped it against the wall, and took a seat at the counter. I inquired about a milkshake, and she told me chocolate and strawberry would blend the best, so I chose strawberry, and a cup of coffee. I was getting very tired. After an hour or so of enjoying my milk shake, two cups of coffee, and chatting and flirting a bit with the waitress, I decided it was time to get to the road again.
I took my sign out and hitchhiked directly across the street from the Hitching Post. After 25 minutes, Chance & Andrew stopped for me. They were on their way to Wolf Point, which the friendly waitress had cautioned me against spending the night in, but Mark (my driver from Shelby to Chester) had grown up there and told me it would be okay, "just don't get stuck in Poplar." Wolf Point took a while to get out of. The local police officer kept driving out to check on me, but never said anything. One man stopped and offered me a ride to Poplar, which I declined, thinking of what I'd been told about getting stuck there. He sort of made fun of me for not accepting his ride, saying, "You think you'll have better luck here?" I told him not necessarily, but I'd rather spend the night in Wolf Point than Poplar. He nodded, as if agreeing with me, wished me luck, and took off. Eventually, Dwight stopped in his pickup for me. He was on his way to Bainville (near the North Dakota border), but had to stop in Poplar for a few minutes to visit the priest (his brother had just died today).
Dwight dropped me off in front of LeeAnn's Motel in Poplar, so I could try for a ride to Williston while he was talking to the priest. He said if I were still there when he came by, he'd pick me up again and drive me to Bainville. After 10 minutes or so, just as it was starting to get dark, the guy who had originally stopped for me in Wolf Point pulled up and said, "you made it here after all." I told him the story, and he said, "You really can't be here once it gets dark. How about if I give you a ride to Culbertson, just outside the reservation, and you can wait for the guy there." I was a little uncertain, but I decided to take him up on the offer.
In the end, it proved to be a good decision. He drove me to a park right in Culbertson where I could camp for free (in fact, there was already another tent up with three bicycles and a ton of gear left outside it -- gutsy, I thought). After deliberating about whether to try to catch Dwight again, I decided that since it was already dark I'd be better off just going to sleep.
I set up my tent, crawled inside, looked at my map and my little log book, and did some calculating:
438 miles
9 rides
15 hours
No wonder I was tired!
19 June: Whitefish to East Glacier
Thursday morning Terra cooked a breakfast of scrambled eggs and greens, it was one of the most creative scrambles I've had. After breakfast I ran to the post office to mail the stuff I was shedding to lighten up my pack to my mom's place, and then I returned to Hilary & Dan's place to finish packing and take off. I just couldn't seem to tear myself away, though, so I ended up sticking around for a lunch of leftovers.
After lunch I finally took off to make my way east. My goal for the day was Shelby. I walked about 5 miles to get myself truly outside of town, and started hitchhiking. After a relatively short wait, I was picked up by Eric, in his pickup truck. He drove me to the road's intersection with US-2, where there was a large gas station, and I hitchhiked from there.
After 30 minutes or so, Jay and Heather picked me up. They drove me (meandered, really) through the Rockies on US-2, just skirting the edge of Glacier National Park. It would've been nice to actually drive through the park, but that road was closed due to avalanches -- it had snowed a few days previously. We stopped in the middle of the crossing to eat lunch at a small diner in the middle of nowhere, and then we were off again. They dropped me off at East Glacier, on the eastern side of the Rockies, which was about 20 miles farther than they'd planned on going. They had said they'd drop me off at Essex, but somehow we never saw it even though they'd been there before and were watching for it.
When they dropped me off it was 5:45 or so. I used the bathroom at the gas station, had a quick bite to eat, and hitchhiked from 6:00 to 8:30, but everyone who stopped for me was going to Browning. Several people had already told me not to get stuck there at night. I didn't have faith that I'd be able to get a ride out that late in the day, so I turned all those rides down.
At 8:30 it was starting to get dark, so I decided to find my spot to sleep for the night. Unfortunately, the area around East Glacier had been cleared of trees, so to get to a good camping spot would have taken a westward walk of a mile or so. I decided to wander around until the nightly Amtrak had come through, and then head up to the station. After the train passed, I watched the station (which I could see because it was about 15 feet higher than the rest of the town, at the same level as the railroad tracks) for activity to die down. When I could see that there was no one left there, I went up, put down my mattress pad, laid out my sleeping bag, and went to sleep. I didn't sleep well though, because a couple times people walked through and late at night quite a few freight trains passed.
- East Glacier Afternoon -
- East Glacier Sunset -
- Sunset Over Railroad Tracks -
- Glacier Park Lodge -
After lunch I finally took off to make my way east. My goal for the day was Shelby. I walked about 5 miles to get myself truly outside of town, and started hitchhiking. After a relatively short wait, I was picked up by Eric, in his pickup truck. He drove me to the road's intersection with US-2, where there was a large gas station, and I hitchhiked from there.
After 30 minutes or so, Jay and Heather picked me up. They drove me (meandered, really) through the Rockies on US-2, just skirting the edge of Glacier National Park. It would've been nice to actually drive through the park, but that road was closed due to avalanches -- it had snowed a few days previously. We stopped in the middle of the crossing to eat lunch at a small diner in the middle of nowhere, and then we were off again. They dropped me off at East Glacier, on the eastern side of the Rockies, which was about 20 miles farther than they'd planned on going. They had said they'd drop me off at Essex, but somehow we never saw it even though they'd been there before and were watching for it.
When they dropped me off it was 5:45 or so. I used the bathroom at the gas station, had a quick bite to eat, and hitchhiked from 6:00 to 8:30, but everyone who stopped for me was going to Browning. Several people had already told me not to get stuck there at night. I didn't have faith that I'd be able to get a ride out that late in the day, so I turned all those rides down.
At 8:30 it was starting to get dark, so I decided to find my spot to sleep for the night. Unfortunately, the area around East Glacier had been cleared of trees, so to get to a good camping spot would have taken a westward walk of a mile or so. I decided to wander around until the nightly Amtrak had come through, and then head up to the station. After the train passed, I watched the station (which I could see because it was about 15 feet higher than the rest of the town, at the same level as the railroad tracks) for activity to die down. When I could see that there was no one left there, I went up, put down my mattress pad, laid out my sleeping bag, and went to sleep. I didn't sleep well though, because a couple times people walked through and late at night quite a few freight trains passed.
Sunday
17-18 June: Whitefish
On Tuesday morning, we slept in until 10:00 or so. We then went to Montana Coffee Traders for coffee and breakfast, where Jeff and I were thwarted in our breakfast efforts for the second day in a row; apparently they've recently changed their hours in a very odd manner. We had coffee anyway. I got espresso, and the barista's response should've had me changing my order ("you mean like a latte?"), but for some reason I stuck it out. It proved to be a mistake. I'm sure they're good with the sweet milky drinks, though! Under different circumstances I would've bought some beans to try them out, but I was headed back into bear country eventually and didn't really need the strong smell of coffee beans attracting my furry friends, nor did I need the added weight.
We ended up going to Knead Cafe for lunch, where i got the Veghead sandwich, with roasted eggplant, zucchini, red pepper, and a ton of other veggie goodness (they had just stopped serving breakfast when we got there) and it was delicious.
After lunch, Candace drove me out to a road from which I could easily walk to Whitefish. I had thought she was driving me to a road that I had in mind when they told me knew the perfect spot, but when we got a few miles out onto the road and Candace pulled over to let me out, I knew I couldn't walk from there -- there was absolutely no shoulder, and there was enough traffic that I'd be a hazard if two cars met near me. So they drove me to the end of the road, which was really a cheat on my part because it was only about 3-1/2 miles to Whitefish. I took advantage of it and walked into and through town to Hilary & Dan's house.
When I arrived, Hilary was sitting on the curb waiting for her ride to work, but I didn't realize it was her. We exchanged a few friendly words, and I walked up to her house. She watched to see if that's where I was going, and then she surprised me, saying, "It should be unlocked." I laughed, and she said that they've had enough new people showing up in town for the summer that she wasn't sure if it was me when I turned the corner.
I had the place to myself for a bit and took a little nap. I woke up in time to go the farmers market, which I had noticed was about to start when I walked through town. I walked back into town and checked out the wares being hawked. It was sort of a smaller version of the Ballard Sunday Market, in terms of the goods being sold. There was a mobile catering service selling food off a small menu, including espresso barbequed ribs, which sounded good except for the ribs part. I opted instead for the walleye sandwich with yam fries, which was wonderful, and the walleye fillet, while sizeable, was nonetheless too small for the roll it was on. Oh well. With a less strong main course, the yam fries would have stolen the show -- they were that good!
After the farmers market, I went across the street to Great Northern Brewing to sample the beers. They were all good, but the scottish ale was tops and the dark lager was very tasty, too. Not wanting to be trashed when I returned to meet Dan and Hilary together, I left relatively early (they closed at 8:00, anyway) and walked back to the house.
I stood around outside the house talking to Karla for a while, and I saw Dan arrive. I chatted with Karla a little longer and then went in to introduce myself to Dan, but he had managed to sneak out while I wasn't looking! Finally he returned, having walked Zoe (their cute and sweet but maladjusted dog), and we passed the next few hours in pleasant conversation while we washed some dishes. Then Dan went to get Hilary from work, after which we chatted for a short while before hitting the rack.
The next day Hilary was off, and we had a nice slow morning conversing over coffee and eventually breakfast -- for me, anyway; Hilary just had more coffee, a decision that she eventually came to regret. Her friend Justin came over and we went to buy groceries for dinner.
Later that afternoon, Hilary's friends Terra and Jess, who are working in West Glacier, came over. They brought their dog, Raindog, an energetic basset hound/beagle mix. They were delightful and entertaining in conversation. Hilary put together a great dinner of kebabs and various types of salad, not to mention chips, salsa, and hummus. We ate, we drank, we joked around, and in general we made merry.
I went to bed late, but happy.
We ended up going to Knead Cafe for lunch, where i got the Veghead sandwich, with roasted eggplant, zucchini, red pepper, and a ton of other veggie goodness (they had just stopped serving breakfast when we got there) and it was delicious.
After lunch, Candace drove me out to a road from which I could easily walk to Whitefish. I had thought she was driving me to a road that I had in mind when they told me knew the perfect spot, but when we got a few miles out onto the road and Candace pulled over to let me out, I knew I couldn't walk from there -- there was absolutely no shoulder, and there was enough traffic that I'd be a hazard if two cars met near me. So they drove me to the end of the road, which was really a cheat on my part because it was only about 3-1/2 miles to Whitefish. I took advantage of it and walked into and through town to Hilary & Dan's house.
When I arrived, Hilary was sitting on the curb waiting for her ride to work, but I didn't realize it was her. We exchanged a few friendly words, and I walked up to her house. She watched to see if that's where I was going, and then she surprised me, saying, "It should be unlocked." I laughed, and she said that they've had enough new people showing up in town for the summer that she wasn't sure if it was me when I turned the corner.
I had the place to myself for a bit and took a little nap. I woke up in time to go the farmers market, which I had noticed was about to start when I walked through town. I walked back into town and checked out the wares being hawked. It was sort of a smaller version of the Ballard Sunday Market, in terms of the goods being sold. There was a mobile catering service selling food off a small menu, including espresso barbequed ribs, which sounded good except for the ribs part. I opted instead for the walleye sandwich with yam fries, which was wonderful, and the walleye fillet, while sizeable, was nonetheless too small for the roll it was on. Oh well. With a less strong main course, the yam fries would have stolen the show -- they were that good!
After the farmers market, I went across the street to Great Northern Brewing to sample the beers. They were all good, but the scottish ale was tops and the dark lager was very tasty, too. Not wanting to be trashed when I returned to meet Dan and Hilary together, I left relatively early (they closed at 8:00, anyway) and walked back to the house.
I stood around outside the house talking to Karla for a while, and I saw Dan arrive. I chatted with Karla a little longer and then went in to introduce myself to Dan, but he had managed to sneak out while I wasn't looking! Finally he returned, having walked Zoe (their cute and sweet but maladjusted dog), and we passed the next few hours in pleasant conversation while we washed some dishes. Then Dan went to get Hilary from work, after which we chatted for a short while before hitting the rack.
The next day Hilary was off, and we had a nice slow morning conversing over coffee and eventually breakfast -- for me, anyway; Hilary just had more coffee, a decision that she eventually came to regret. Her friend Justin came over and we went to buy groceries for dinner.
Later that afternoon, Hilary's friends Terra and Jess, who are working in West Glacier, came over. They brought their dog, Raindog, an energetic basset hound/beagle mix. They were delightful and entertaining in conversation. Hilary put together a great dinner of kebabs and various types of salad, not to mention chips, salsa, and hummus. We ate, we drank, we joked around, and in general we made merry.
I went to bed late, but happy.
16 June: Kalispell
Monday was a great day of puttering around town with Jeff, my CouchSurfing host in Kalispell. We drove into town so he could show me around a little bit and pick up a couple things I needed (like some spare tent stakes). We stopped by Rocky Mountain Outfitter, which had nearly the exact stakes that I wanted, and they were inexpensive so I picked them up. We went for coffee, and stopped at Gresko's, a sort of gourmet grocery store, for coffee and a look around. I found some 7-1/2 year aged gouda there for what I considered to be the very reasonable price of $19.99 per pound. I bought about 1/4 pound, knowing that a cheese aged that long would 1) be tasty and 2) hold up well in my food container. And let me tell you, that cheese is DELICIOUS and has lasted a week now. It may not last much longer though, because I'm itching to finish it off.
The real highlight of the day, however, was yet to come. Monday afternoon, we ventured over to Flathead Lake to put Jeff's sailboat in the water and go for an evening sail. There were some glitches and minor obstacles (like having the wrong size trailer hitch and then not being able to pull it off to put the right one on), but we overcame them and after about an hour of working on it, we had Jeff's boat in the water and tied up to the dock. While Jeff & I worked on that, his girlfriend Candace was busy with the barbeque, cooking up steaks (for them), and some portabello mushrooms, and red bell peppers that I had marinated. She also grilled some pineapple and asparagus. By the time Jeff and I had gotten the boat in the water and made some other preparations (like putting the tiller back together, getting the outboard running, and prepping the sails and the mooring lines) we were very hungry; fortunately, this coincided perfectly with the food being ready! The barbeque was awesome, and Candace had experimented with grilling the asparagus in several different ways. I couldn't decide which I liked best, it was all so good.
After dinner, we quickly packed our food up and headed out to the boat. We started the engine and got underway, motoring out until we had almost reached the wind, evident by its impression on the water. We put the sails up and waited. And waited and waited, having stopped a bit too soon. Eventually Jeff got impatient, motored us up to the wind, and we got going. I was thrilled to be out on the water again after so long, and very happy that it involved sailing. We tacked around the lake for a while, watching the sunset and the other two or three sailboats out there with us. The sunset was pretty, and the near-full moon hung in the sky gorgeously.
- Jeff -
- Candace -
- Derek -
When it was just starting to get dark, we motored in to the dock and packed up. We went home to Jeff's and enjoyed some brief conversation before going to bed, the efforts ofgetting the boat in the water having weighed heavily on all of us.
The real highlight of the day, however, was yet to come. Monday afternoon, we ventured over to Flathead Lake to put Jeff's sailboat in the water and go for an evening sail. There were some glitches and minor obstacles (like having the wrong size trailer hitch and then not being able to pull it off to put the right one on), but we overcame them and after about an hour of working on it, we had Jeff's boat in the water and tied up to the dock. While Jeff & I worked on that, his girlfriend Candace was busy with the barbeque, cooking up steaks (for them), and some portabello mushrooms, and red bell peppers that I had marinated. She also grilled some pineapple and asparagus. By the time Jeff and I had gotten the boat in the water and made some other preparations (like putting the tiller back together, getting the outboard running, and prepping the sails and the mooring lines) we were very hungry; fortunately, this coincided perfectly with the food being ready! The barbeque was awesome, and Candace had experimented with grilling the asparagus in several different ways. I couldn't decide which I liked best, it was all so good.
After dinner, we quickly packed our food up and headed out to the boat. We started the engine and got underway, motoring out until we had almost reached the wind, evident by its impression on the water. We put the sails up and waited. And waited and waited, having stopped a bit too soon. Eventually Jeff got impatient, motored us up to the wind, and we got going. I was thrilled to be out on the water again after so long, and very happy that it involved sailing. We tacked around the lake for a while, watching the sunset and the other two or three sailboats out there with us. The sunset was pretty, and the near-full moon hung in the sky gorgeously.
When it was just starting to get dark, we motored in to the dock and packed up. We went home to Jeff's and enjoyed some brief conversation before going to bed, the efforts ofgetting the boat in the water having weighed heavily on all of us.
I'm alive!
Hey everyone, I'm still hanging on. I just arrived in Grand Forks, North Dakota about 30 minutes ago after 3-1/2 whirlwind days of hitchhiking. As soon as I get a little sorely needed rest, I'll be posting as many updates as days I've missed.
Derek
Derek
Wednesday
Blog 15 June: Libby to Kalispell
I awoke refreshed and ready to go in Libby on Sunday. The only problem was that it was late -- 11:00! I packed up quickly, ate a small breakfast. Ran to the store for some yogurt and a new toothbrush, and I was off.
Unfortunately, there was more of Libby east of me than I realizwd. A lot more. The town went on for a couple more miles, and after that the curb and gutter seemed an eternal fixture. I was surprised at how far out the homes continued.
After about six miles I stopped at a gas station to top off my water, and a few people who walked past as I looked at my map asked where I was going. On my map it looked like there should be some good forested camping area about halfway between Libby and Kalispell, so I told them I wanted to go about fifty miles up the road. After a while, I was offered a ride (and all I was doing was standing there!) by some local kids in a big extended cab pickup. They said they were headed to "just this side of Happy's, about 35 miles." I took yhe ride thinking that they'd drop me in the miffle of nowhere and someone would pick me up because I was way out there.
The spot they took me to was only about 25 miles up the road, so not as far as I thought I'd get, but there appeared to be lots of camping possibilities. I started walking, thinking that if I did end up camping out here I'd like to have at least covered some distance.
After 10 or 11 miles (the mileposts blur together after a while) I stopped. Both sides of the road were sparsely forested with little undergrowth, this would be an especially good spot to wander off the road and camp. I decided to try hitchhiking until five or so, and if I hadn't been picked up yet, camp out.
In about 45 minutes I was picked up by a couple in a white Ford Escort station wagon. They offered to take ne all the way to Kalispell and I accepted.
In Kalispell, they gave me directions to get to Sykes Restaurant, which they loved for its ten cent coffee. I kept my mouth shut, but of course I was thinking, "you get what you pay for." I wandered around downtown for a while, but nothing was open because it was Sunday.
I went to Sykes, and did not get coffee. After a 20 minute wait, which I really didn't understand because it wasn't that busy. I was finally able to order my chocolate malt, and the waitress told me, "I'll make it when I get to it." Great. After another 15 minutes, I had my malt, which was delicious and HUGE. I resolved to consume the entire thing despite the loud protests of the rational part of me, astonished at the sheer size and number of calories.
I sat in Sykes reading for a while before heading out to the parking lot to await the arrival of Camdice, my host's girlfriend. Before long she pulled up in a newish black pickup. I tossed my pack in the back, grabbed a bottle of water for the ride, and we were off. We stopped on the way to grab a six pack of beer and a couple pizzas for dinner.
We arrived at Jeff's after a short drive, and I introduced myself to Jeff and he introduced me to his kids, Miranda and Zander.Candice and the kids watched a movie while Jeff and I chatted for a while over dinner, and eventually we joined the movie watching crowd ourselves.
After the kids went to bed the three of us sat around chatting about whatever came to mind for a while, and eventually none of us could keep our eyes open any longer. I went down to the spare room I was surfing and crashed almost immediately.
Unfortunately, there was more of Libby east of me than I realizwd. A lot more. The town went on for a couple more miles, and after that the curb and gutter seemed an eternal fixture. I was surprised at how far out the homes continued.
After about six miles I stopped at a gas station to top off my water, and a few people who walked past as I looked at my map asked where I was going. On my map it looked like there should be some good forested camping area about halfway between Libby and Kalispell, so I told them I wanted to go about fifty miles up the road. After a while, I was offered a ride (and all I was doing was standing there!) by some local kids in a big extended cab pickup. They said they were headed to "just this side of Happy's, about 35 miles." I took yhe ride thinking that they'd drop me in the miffle of nowhere and someone would pick me up because I was way out there.
The spot they took me to was only about 25 miles up the road, so not as far as I thought I'd get, but there appeared to be lots of camping possibilities. I started walking, thinking that if I did end up camping out here I'd like to have at least covered some distance.
After 10 or 11 miles (the mileposts blur together after a while) I stopped. Both sides of the road were sparsely forested with little undergrowth, this would be an especially good spot to wander off the road and camp. I decided to try hitchhiking until five or so, and if I hadn't been picked up yet, camp out.
In about 45 minutes I was picked up by a couple in a white Ford Escort station wagon. They offered to take ne all the way to Kalispell and I accepted.
In Kalispell, they gave me directions to get to Sykes Restaurant, which they loved for its ten cent coffee. I kept my mouth shut, but of course I was thinking, "you get what you pay for." I wandered around downtown for a while, but nothing was open because it was Sunday.
I went to Sykes, and did not get coffee. After a 20 minute wait, which I really didn't understand because it wasn't that busy. I was finally able to order my chocolate malt, and the waitress told me, "I'll make it when I get to it." Great. After another 15 minutes, I had my malt, which was delicious and HUGE. I resolved to consume the entire thing despite the loud protests of the rational part of me, astonished at the sheer size and number of calories.
I sat in Sykes reading for a while before heading out to the parking lot to await the arrival of Camdice, my host's girlfriend. Before long she pulled up in a newish black pickup. I tossed my pack in the back, grabbed a bottle of water for the ride, and we were off. We stopped on the way to grab a six pack of beer and a couple pizzas for dinner.
We arrived at Jeff's after a short drive, and I introduced myself to Jeff and he introduced me to his kids, Miranda and Zander.Candice and the kids watched a movie while Jeff and I chatted for a while over dinner, and eventually we joined the movie watching crowd ourselves.
After the kids went to bed the three of us sat around chatting about whatever came to mind for a while, and eventually none of us could keep our eyes open any longer. I went down to the spare room I was surfing and crashed almost immediately.
Tuesday
Quick update
I just added 3 new posts, hope you enjoy reading them. I'm a few days behind and for that I apologize and offer only the excuse that it's slow typing on this little thumb keyboard.
I just spen two awesome nights in Kalispell with an outstanding CouchSurfing host and tonight I'm in Whitefish. Not sure about tomorrow. There'll be more updates just as fast as I can type 'em in, I promise!
Derek
I just spen two awesome nights in Kalispell with an outstanding CouchSurfing host and tonight I'm in Whitefish. Not sure about tomorrow. There'll be more updates just as fast as I can type 'em in, I promise!
Derek
14 June, 2008: Bonners Ferry to Libby, Montana
I started today in a leisurely fashion, happily chatting with my CouchSurfing host Marsha about everything under the sun, including travel, CouchSurfing experiences and philosophies, future plans, and "what I want to do with my life." It was a long, rambling conversation, and along with coffee it was the perfect beginning of a relaxing morning. After a couple hours of chat we were both hungry, so I cooked scrambled some eggs with onions, mushrooms, and spinach, and we stuffed a couple tortillas with them for a delicious breakfast.
- On the Road Again -
Marsha had offered to drive me up to Three Mile, the corner (you guessed it) three miles away, where US-2 splits with US-95 and heads east. I walked 3 miles east and decided to try to hitchhike to the State Line, a bar (at, that's right, the state line) that I had been told to check out. First, two women in a white Taurus stopped but didn't give me a ride because they thought I was someone else. The next vehicule to pull over was a new dark green pickup, and it was driven by Nancy, with passenger/boyfriend Tim. They tucked me into the back of their extended cab and away we went. They were only going as far as Moyie Springs, which couldn't have been more than two miles, and they invited me to have a beer with them at the local bar. I accepted because they were friendly and accompanied them to the little country bar, where the animated bartender had only worked for only an hour, and unfortunately for her, the owner had left her alone without teaching her to use the register or telling her what anything cost. After we'd finished our beers (and Nancy failed in her search for marijuana) they dropped me off back on the highway. I walked a mile out of town, over the Moyie River on a tall, tall bridge. I took some pictures of a distant but pretty waterfall and walked a bit further, until a sign appeared: "Shoulder Drops Off Next 10 Miles." In other words, I'd have to walk 10 miles to get to my next good hitchhiking spot, and it was already about 3:00. I really wanted to get to at least Troy, Montana in time to set my tent up before dark, so I decided to hitchhike where I stood.
- Moyie Falls, Idaho -
- North Idaho -
I hitched for only 15 minutes or so before my ride came along. He was only going 6 miles, but that was better than nothing and got me more than halfway through my ten miles of bad hitchhiking territory, so I was happy for the ride.
I walked a couple miles east on the highway, surrounded by woods the whole time. I stopped near a rode with a "National Forest Entrance" sign, figuring it be an easy place to find camping if I failed to get a ride. I pulled out the ol' signal thumb and started wavng it at cars that went by. After 45 minutes, I was picked up my a couple mid-20's guys in a huge newish SUV that I figured was impractical ans hugely wasteful as a highway vehicule; those suspicions did not stop me from getting in. These guys cruised down the highway chatting with each other bug playing their music so loud that I couldn't even hear them talking, much kess ask their names. They dropped me off along highway 2 in Troy, Montana.
I stopped next to a gas station to get lunch and refill my water, then I started walking east out of town. Getting through town was about a mile, and in order to find a good hitchhiking spot I had to continue for certain more.
A few miles outside town I got picked up by an older couple in a small pickup with a topper on it. I sat in the back under the topper, and they took me to Libby, where they dropped me off at the Fireman's Memorial Park, which contained a campground that cost only five bucks a night. The price was right for me, so I got set up and went across the street to a "casino" to have a beer.
After nursing a beer and talking to my friend Krista on the phone, I took my exhausted self back across the street and had a nice, uninterrupted night of sleep.
Marsha had offered to drive me up to Three Mile, the corner (you guessed it) three miles away, where US-2 splits with US-95 and heads east. I walked 3 miles east and decided to try to hitchhike to the State Line, a bar (at, that's right, the state line) that I had been told to check out. First, two women in a white Taurus stopped but didn't give me a ride because they thought I was someone else. The next vehicule to pull over was a new dark green pickup, and it was driven by Nancy, with passenger/boyfriend Tim. They tucked me into the back of their extended cab and away we went. They were only going as far as Moyie Springs, which couldn't have been more than two miles, and they invited me to have a beer with them at the local bar. I accepted because they were friendly and accompanied them to the little country bar, where the animated bartender had only worked for only an hour, and unfortunately for her, the owner had left her alone without teaching her to use the register or telling her what anything cost. After we'd finished our beers (and Nancy failed in her search for marijuana) they dropped me off back on the highway. I walked a mile out of town, over the Moyie River on a tall, tall bridge. I took some pictures of a distant but pretty waterfall and walked a bit further, until a sign appeared: "Shoulder Drops Off Next 10 Miles." In other words, I'd have to walk 10 miles to get to my next good hitchhiking spot, and it was already about 3:00. I really wanted to get to at least Troy, Montana in time to set my tent up before dark, so I decided to hitchhike where I stood.
I hitched for only 15 minutes or so before my ride came along. He was only going 6 miles, but that was better than nothing and got me more than halfway through my ten miles of bad hitchhiking territory, so I was happy for the ride.
I walked a couple miles east on the highway, surrounded by woods the whole time. I stopped near a rode with a "National Forest Entrance" sign, figuring it be an easy place to find camping if I failed to get a ride. I pulled out the ol' signal thumb and started wavng it at cars that went by. After 45 minutes, I was picked up my a couple mid-20's guys in a huge newish SUV that I figured was impractical ans hugely wasteful as a highway vehicule; those suspicions did not stop me from getting in. These guys cruised down the highway chatting with each other bug playing their music so loud that I couldn't even hear them talking, much kess ask their names. They dropped me off along highway 2 in Troy, Montana.
I stopped next to a gas station to get lunch and refill my water, then I started walking east out of town. Getting through town was about a mile, and in order to find a good hitchhiking spot I had to continue for certain more.
A few miles outside town I got picked up by an older couple in a small pickup with a topper on it. I sat in the back under the topper, and they took me to Libby, where they dropped me off at the Fireman's Memorial Park, which contained a campground that cost only five bucks a night. The price was right for me, so I got set up and went across the street to a "casino" to have a beer.
After nursing a beer and talking to my friend Krista on the phone, I took my exhausted self back across the street and had a nice, uninterrupted night of sleep.
13 June, 2008: Sandpoint to Bonners Ferry
I got a late start getting out of town on Friday, but I had sort of planned it because I knew that Marsha, my host for the evening, wouldn't be home until late. Upon turning north on US-95, I discovered what I had not noticed in my wanderings around town: Sandpoint does not waste your time with car dealers, chain stores, supermarkets, and billboards advertising the gospel as you leave town. There is instead a creek marking a discrete boundary where the city of Sandpoint ends and Ponderay begins. Ponderay has an unfortunate variety of those things, and a few gas stations to boot.
I walked north through Ponderay and exited town in a picturesque environment. The landscape was nice, lush and green, with a meandering stream that afterr a few miles came up right next to the road and provided the perfect setting for me to take a little break. As I was taking my pack off, I paid scant attention to the dark green SUV driving up the highway toward me, until I heard a shout and saw an object fly out the window. It proved to be too light and have too much surface area to fly along what was presumably its intended trajectory toward me, however, and fell lamely to a highway, making a sadly benign clatter as it landed. I wandered over ti investigate, and it was a Full Throttle can. As if I need more reason to dislike energy drinks.
The rest of my break passed without interruption, and after 15 ninutes or so I got uip and walked another 5 miles or so. I found a good spot and started hitchhiking. It wasn't a great hitching day, compared to my luck so far, and it took me about 45 minutes to get picked up. I didn't really care about the delay, though, because I knew that I would beat Marsha to Bonners Ferry.
Once I was in Bonners Ferry, I found Mugsy's Tavern, which had a much better beer selection than I expect from a town that size. In addition to that, it was certainly the friendliest bar I'd ever been to in a small town. Servers, owner, clientelle -- everyone -- all wanted to talk to me just to say hi, and once they discovered what I'm doing it was non-stop questions along with wishes for a safe journey. I was impressed, and after a quesadilla and a beer I left pretty happy.
I walked the mile or so up to Marsha's place and beat her there by about ten minutes. While I was waiting, one of the neighbors called the police and said I didn't look like I belonged there (no shit!), but fortunately the deputy arrived just after Marsha showed up and she assured him that I was okay.
Surprisingly, that's been my only brush with the law so far.
Marsha threw together a dinner of hors d'oeuvres -- pita chips, baguette, smoked salmon dip, crab & artichoke dip, and grapes. I contributed a bottle of red wine, and we relaxed and watched a movie. After the movie we chatted idly for a little while and then went to bed.
12 June, 2008: Sandpoint
I spent my morning wandering Sandpoint in search of coffee and tent stakes -- a couple of my "spares" that aren't, really, do not fit in with the others in that they do not do their job effectively. Unfortunately, the stakes that I could find locally wouls be no better; the army surplus store actually carries PLASTIC stakes, the use of which I would expect to make me the laughingstock of the backpacking community.
I did discover Eickhardt's pub today, twice, with the help of locals. From the outside it appears to be a total dive bar with nothing interesting going on. When you step inside, however, you quickly realize that this place is serious; Your first clue is the outrageous number of tap handles hanging from the ceiling. My rough estimate, and this is not in the least an exaggeration, is that there are FIVE HUNDRED of them, and they are (or were) good beers from good breweries.
I went to Eickhardt's again tonight and met a ton of awesome people, most of whom are friends of Marsha,.ny host for tomorrow night. Tonight, at Eickhardt's, is when I decided Sandpoint was my kind of place. In addition to Marsha, Matt, Robyn, Michael, and Nate, all of whom I already knew, I met Terra, Laura, Dustin, Christine, Clark, Katie, Molly, Eric, Leah, Rebecca, and Wes, and probably even more awesome people. These were my kind of people, and I think Sandpoint is my kind of place. Friends in Sandpoint, I'm sure you hear it a lot, but I WILL be back!
I did discover Eickhardt's pub today, twice, with the help of locals. From the outside it appears to be a total dive bar with nothing interesting going on. When you step inside, however, you quickly realize that this place is serious; Your first clue is the outrageous number of tap handles hanging from the ceiling. My rough estimate, and this is not in the least an exaggeration, is that there are FIVE HUNDRED of them, and they are (or were) good beers from good breweries.
I went to Eickhardt's again tonight and met a ton of awesome people, most of whom are friends of Marsha,.ny host for tomorrow night. Tonight, at Eickhardt's, is when I decided Sandpoint was my kind of place. In addition to Marsha, Matt, Robyn, Michael, and Nate, all of whom I already knew, I met Terra, Laura, Dustin, Christine, Clark, Katie, Molly, Eric, Leah, Rebecca, and Wes, and probably even more awesome people. These were my kind of people, and I think Sandpoint is my kind of place. Friends in Sandpoint, I'm sure you hear it a lot, but I WILL be back!
Monday
11-13 June: Sandpoint
I arrived in Sandpoint around noon on Wednesday, and just bummed around town for the afternoon. I went to Mick Duff's brewpub, which had been recommended to me the day before by Jonathan, who was my ride to town from further south. The food & beer were both good, and I was happy for the nice recommendation. If anyone happens to go through Sandpoint, stop at Mick Duff's for the porter, it is excellent.
That afternoon I walked the six blocks or so from downtown to Robyn's house, where her son, Nathan let me in. Nathan was a nice guy, showed me around the place, and was quick to offer me anything a traveler might need. An hour or so later, Robyn came home from work and we began to get acquainted. A delicious stir fry dinner and several hours of conversation wore me out, though, so bedtime came rather quickly.
On Thursday I woke up and chatted with Robyn a bit more. She recommended Monarch Mountain Coffee as a nice place to sit and relax, and I checked it out. It was one of the nice neighborhoody coffee shops that is easy to love for its atmosphere, where locals come in for coffee and end up lost in conversation and banter and probably running late because of it. The espresso: not so good; the cappuccino brownie: delicious.
After Monarch Mountain, I wondered down by the beach and just meandered for a while until I found myself at the Edgewater Resort (the Best Western in Sandpoint), which Robyn and Nathan had said was the best place in town to sip a bloody mary.
I opted instead to lunch at Eickhardt's, a pub whose garlic fries they had both said were not to be missed. The garlic fries that I got instead of plain fries with my fish & chips were pretty damn good, but unfortunately what I'm discovering is that the oil in fish & chips has gotten to be too much for me, now that I'm not eating much fried food. So I'll have to stop exploring the fish & chips options all over the place, which is a bit of a sad thought for me. In addition to the garlic fries, there was another bright spot to my lunch at Eickhardt's: they had a porter on cask. Combining the porter style with the traditional cask serving method is tops for me, so of course it was my drink of choice with lunch. I believe it was Winthrop Porter, which I'd never heard of before, but it was one of the best cask porters I've had.
Another great thing about Eickhardt's was the decor. Some of it was haphazard, there were funny signs hanging about the place. It was darkish, the way a good pub should be, and on the comfortable, well-loved side of divey. The best thing, however, was the tap handles hanging upside-down from the ceiling; not a terribly uncommon way of storing & displaying them, I know -- but their collection was huge, for a little pub in a town the size of Sandpoint. I estimated there were between 500 and 550 tap handles hanging from the ceiling, many of them from breweries that no longer exist. A couple other guys who were new to the place were commenting on them and asking about the building; my comment was that the tap handles were probably worth more than the building!
After Eickhardt's, I returned to Mick Duff's to try their barleywine, which the previous day's bartender had told me was her favorite offering there. The thing was delicious, big and chewy, and not hugely bitter & hoppy like a lot of American barley wines. In truth, its richness and chewiness reminded me of a significantly less bitter Double Bastard. Needless to say, it was a sipper -- it took me about an hour and a half to get through it, and next thing I knew I had drunk my afternoon free time away with just one beer!
I stepped out into the fresh air and immediately noticed that -- finally! -- it was getting sunny. This was my first sight of sunshine in well over a week, other than a couple brilliant hours of it in Kellogg. So the potluck that Robyn and I had scheduled for tonight might be a backyard sort of thing, after all. I stopped by Safeway on my way to Robyn's, to get salad fixings and restock on food for my walking and camping.
Walking around Sandpoint was pleasant. I definitely heard some complaints about its growth over the past ten years while I was there (just like everywhere else in the west), but to me it seemed to have retained a small-town feel. The residential streets were tree-lined and shady, many without curb and gutter (not to mention sidewalks), and there was a certain sleepy feeling in the streets. In an odd way, it reminded me of Savannah, Georgia.
Back at Robyn's, I threw my salad together and did a little cleaning up. Soon Robyn was home, and not long after, people began arriving for the potluck. The first person to arrive was Robyn's friend Nancy, who was ready to try out CouchSurfing. The next few were new to the idea: Tim & Nancy, from Sandpoint, and Mimi, a Belgian transplant via southern California. Those three had found out about the potluck from an article in the local newspaper (http://www.bonnercountydailybee.com/articles/2008/06/12/news/news03.txt), which the paper had written in response to Robyn's submission of the potluck to the newspaper's weekly calendar. The potluck was supposed to be a celebration of the first International CouchSurfing Day, which the article did not mention, but it was definitely in the CouchSurfing Spirit to expose new people to the idea on this "holiday."
A few other CouchSurfers came to the potluck: Matt, from Sandpoint; Marsha, also from Sandpoint but living up the road in Bonners Ferry; and Michael, a traveler from Ireland who was hitchhiking around the world and staying on Marsha's couch for the night. We all, CouchSurfers and non- alike, had good conversation about travel and life in general. When the potluck was winding down, we CSers migrated to Eickhardt's for a few drinks.
Eickhardt's that night was a much different creature from the sleepy pub I'd seen at lunch. It turned out that Thursday was dollar beer night, when the pub chose a beer at random and pints of that beer cost only a dollar until it ran out. The beer for the night turned out to be New Belgium's 1554, which is my favorite beer by that brewery. Pitchers of that beer were only FOUR DOLLARS, and when I texted this in astonishment to Kris, his reply was "Get drunk!" Well, I hope I made Kris proud.
Marsha introduced us to all of her friends at the pub, and there were a LOT of them. They were an open, friendly, fun group of people and seemed interested in anything and everything. Thanks largely to the people I met in Sandpoint, I see myself returning for a longer visit; hopefully I'll do some hiking & kayaking next time!
The next day (Friday) I was up & out (after saying good-bye to Robyn on her way out) relatively early to get some pictures of the long bridge that I crossed coming into town. I hadn't been able to take photos the first time around, because my camera batteries had died the previous night (hence, no photos of my nice campsite outside of Sandpoint, either). So I stopped at the Conoco station for some batteries about a half mile before the bridge, and loaded them into the camera when I'd gotten to the bridge. To my surprise, the new batteries were just as dead as the old ones! I went back to the station and got my money back, but I didn't really have the gumption to walk back to the bridge AGAIN to get pictures -- it'll have to wait until my next visit. I stopped by Monarch Mountain again for some coffee (not espresso this time) and wandered town some more, taking in the niceness of it. Finally, I went back to Robyn's to pack up my stuff and get out onto the road.
That afternoon I walked the six blocks or so from downtown to Robyn's house, where her son, Nathan let me in. Nathan was a nice guy, showed me around the place, and was quick to offer me anything a traveler might need. An hour or so later, Robyn came home from work and we began to get acquainted. A delicious stir fry dinner and several hours of conversation wore me out, though, so bedtime came rather quickly.
On Thursday I woke up and chatted with Robyn a bit more. She recommended Monarch Mountain Coffee as a nice place to sit and relax, and I checked it out. It was one of the nice neighborhoody coffee shops that is easy to love for its atmosphere, where locals come in for coffee and end up lost in conversation and banter and probably running late because of it. The espresso: not so good; the cappuccino brownie: delicious.
After Monarch Mountain, I wondered down by the beach and just meandered for a while until I found myself at the Edgewater Resort (the Best Western in Sandpoint), which Robyn and Nathan had said was the best place in town to sip a bloody mary.
I opted instead to lunch at Eickhardt's, a pub whose garlic fries they had both said were not to be missed. The garlic fries that I got instead of plain fries with my fish & chips were pretty damn good, but unfortunately what I'm discovering is that the oil in fish & chips has gotten to be too much for me, now that I'm not eating much fried food. So I'll have to stop exploring the fish & chips options all over the place, which is a bit of a sad thought for me. In addition to the garlic fries, there was another bright spot to my lunch at Eickhardt's: they had a porter on cask. Combining the porter style with the traditional cask serving method is tops for me, so of course it was my drink of choice with lunch. I believe it was Winthrop Porter, which I'd never heard of before, but it was one of the best cask porters I've had.
Another great thing about Eickhardt's was the decor. Some of it was haphazard, there were funny signs hanging about the place. It was darkish, the way a good pub should be, and on the comfortable, well-loved side of divey. The best thing, however, was the tap handles hanging upside-down from the ceiling; not a terribly uncommon way of storing & displaying them, I know -- but their collection was huge, for a little pub in a town the size of Sandpoint. I estimated there were between 500 and 550 tap handles hanging from the ceiling, many of them from breweries that no longer exist. A couple other guys who were new to the place were commenting on them and asking about the building; my comment was that the tap handles were probably worth more than the building!
After Eickhardt's, I returned to Mick Duff's to try their barleywine, which the previous day's bartender had told me was her favorite offering there. The thing was delicious, big and chewy, and not hugely bitter & hoppy like a lot of American barley wines. In truth, its richness and chewiness reminded me of a significantly less bitter Double Bastard. Needless to say, it was a sipper -- it took me about an hour and a half to get through it, and next thing I knew I had drunk my afternoon free time away with just one beer!
I stepped out into the fresh air and immediately noticed that -- finally! -- it was getting sunny. This was my first sight of sunshine in well over a week, other than a couple brilliant hours of it in Kellogg. So the potluck that Robyn and I had scheduled for tonight might be a backyard sort of thing, after all. I stopped by Safeway on my way to Robyn's, to get salad fixings and restock on food for my walking and camping.
Walking around Sandpoint was pleasant. I definitely heard some complaints about its growth over the past ten years while I was there (just like everywhere else in the west), but to me it seemed to have retained a small-town feel. The residential streets were tree-lined and shady, many without curb and gutter (not to mention sidewalks), and there was a certain sleepy feeling in the streets. In an odd way, it reminded me of Savannah, Georgia.
Back at Robyn's, I threw my salad together and did a little cleaning up. Soon Robyn was home, and not long after, people began arriving for the potluck. The first person to arrive was Robyn's friend Nancy, who was ready to try out CouchSurfing. The next few were new to the idea: Tim & Nancy, from Sandpoint, and Mimi, a Belgian transplant via southern California. Those three had found out about the potluck from an article in the local newspaper (http://www.bonnercountydailybee.com/articles/2008/06/12/news/news03.txt), which the paper had written in response to Robyn's submission of the potluck to the newspaper's weekly calendar. The potluck was supposed to be a celebration of the first International CouchSurfing Day, which the article did not mention, but it was definitely in the CouchSurfing Spirit to expose new people to the idea on this "holiday."
A few other CouchSurfers came to the potluck: Matt, from Sandpoint; Marsha, also from Sandpoint but living up the road in Bonners Ferry; and Michael, a traveler from Ireland who was hitchhiking around the world and staying on Marsha's couch for the night. We all, CouchSurfers and non- alike, had good conversation about travel and life in general. When the potluck was winding down, we CSers migrated to Eickhardt's for a few drinks.
Eickhardt's that night was a much different creature from the sleepy pub I'd seen at lunch. It turned out that Thursday was dollar beer night, when the pub chose a beer at random and pints of that beer cost only a dollar until it ran out. The beer for the night turned out to be New Belgium's 1554, which is my favorite beer by that brewery. Pitchers of that beer were only FOUR DOLLARS, and when I texted this in astonishment to Kris, his reply was "Get drunk!" Well, I hope I made Kris proud.
Marsha introduced us to all of her friends at the pub, and there were a LOT of them. They were an open, friendly, fun group of people and seemed interested in anything and everything. Thanks largely to the people I met in Sandpoint, I see myself returning for a longer visit; hopefully I'll do some hiking & kayaking next time!
The next day (Friday) I was up & out (after saying good-bye to Robyn on her way out) relatively early to get some pictures of the long bridge that I crossed coming into town. I hadn't been able to take photos the first time around, because my camera batteries had died the previous night (hence, no photos of my nice campsite outside of Sandpoint, either). So I stopped at the Conoco station for some batteries about a half mile before the bridge, and loaded them into the camera when I'd gotten to the bridge. To my surprise, the new batteries were just as dead as the old ones! I went back to the station and got my money back, but I didn't really have the gumption to walk back to the bridge AGAIN to get pictures -- it'll have to wait until my next visit. I stopped by Monarch Mountain again for some coffee (not espresso this time) and wandered town some more, taking in the niceness of it. Finally, I went back to Robyn's to pack up my stuff and get out onto the road.
Thursday
8-11 June: Kellogg, camping, cold, and Sandpoint
8 June: Cd'A to Kellogg
On Sunday morning, Sarah was on her way to Sandpoint to visit her family, so I asked her to drop me off at a particular Tesoro station on I-90. It wasn't even close to on her way, but she dropped me off there anyway. I had already made myself a sign reading "Kellogg,' on the cardboard I'd saved in Wenatchee. For 45 minutes I waited for a ride on the I-90 entrance ramp. A lot of people waved and a few honked before ai realized my problem: I had set my pack down on the side of the road, when I already knew from past rxperience that I would get rides a lot faster if I were wearing it. I put my pack back on and in about 12 minutes I was picked up by Gus, who works in Kellogg and is, coincidentally, a friend of Alicia's.
9 June: Back on the Road
After a day of relaxing and bike rides and a night of fun and rowdiness, Jess and Willy gave me a ride back to Coeur d'Alene on Monday morning and I hit the road again. Plagued by heartburn for most of the day (a reminder of the tequila I had sipped at following my beers the night before -- yes, I should know better) I walked on the bicycle path that runs along US-95 north out of town. On my way out I stopped at Black Sheep, an outfitter, and bought some bear spray. I hope that puts some of you at ease, although I have my doubts. The guy who sold it to me just shook his head, laughed, and said, "that'll piss 'em off!" For good measure he added, "ya oughta just get a pistol."
I walked an uneventful six hours, stopping to suit up for the rain when it started, and also resting about an hour for lunch. Some distance out of Coeur d'Alene I stopped at a gas station and decided that I had run out of steam. I stood at the intersection of the bike path and the gas station driveway and started to thumb it. In about 20 minutes Bob picked me up and we chatted as he drove me to Athol. He said that the nearby Farragut State Park was nice and only $12 per night, and I (not knowing it was about five miles off the highway) said "sold." Bob drove me to the park entrance and dropped me off.
I went into the office and registered for my camp site with a very helpful woman who described each of the sites and gave me more options than I was equipped to choose between. I ended up in Camp Whitetail, site 32. It was uncrowded,close to drinking water, close to the restrooms, and close to the lake; it was, in fact, close to everything -- except for the office! My spirits fell a bit, it's true, when she told me I'd have to walk another three miles to get to my home for one night.
The walk was slow going, but okay. The only wildlife were some crows, kildeer, and a dead squirrel in the road. I got to my nice, level, comfortable, idyllic camp site, set up my tent, cached my food a little too close for comfort, and crashed into my sleeping bag for a good 12 hours.
10 June: A Rude Awakening
I was startled awake the following morning by an odd buzz and a sudden THUMP! against the side of my tent. I believe I was nearly the first hiker in history frightened into cardiac arrest by a hummingbird. The adrenaline rush from this ridiculous scare was enough to get me out of bed and moving. I packed up, ate breakfast, watched a rabbit chew on grass about three feet away, and hit the road.
After about 5 miles of pleasant walking, my left hip developed a persistent sharp pain. I stopped and rested for about 15 minutes, got up and stretched, and walked another half mile or so, but the pain returned and did not subside. Not wanting to deal with that pain, I succumbed to the temptation to take the easy way out. I crossed the road and started hitchhiking, and had a ride with Brad in about 15 minutes.
Brad dropped me off at Jimmy C's Café in Athol, where I had delicious diner french toast, a perfect over-medium egg, and bad diner coffee. I sat and journaled and read and ate for a long time -- nearly two hours, I'd say -- then set off again, testing my hip, up US-95 north. After a pInless five minutes or so I stepped it up a notch and walked a pretty good clip for nine miles or so before deciding to jump ahead to Cocolalla, which would position me for a 12 or 13 mile walk to Sandpoint the following day.
It took me about 15 minutes to get picked up by Jonathan, who passed me, turned around, and offered me a ride to Sandpoint. He took me to a trailhead outside town that he said lead to national forest. I headed only about 500 yards up the trail before finding a promising looking spot next to a hillside stream. It was perfect, except that it was quite visivle from what was obviously a partiers' hangout, complete wiith trashed tent and sleeping bag, charred firepit, and half-melted Coors and Redbull cans. I decided that given the cold, wet weather there was little likelihood of a party tonight, so I went ahead and set up camp. It turned out to be a nearly perfect campsite, just large enough for me to comfortably nest in it, with ground that was perfect for my tent stakes. Thanks in part to the stream's gurgling and burbling I slept wonderfully and awoke refreshed and ready to go.
11 June: Onward to Sandpoint
Wednesday morning I packed, quickly broke my fast, and headed down the hill for my five milw walk into Sandpoint and to the home of my CouchSurfing host, Robyn. It was a pretty easy walk with no highway walking, there being a bicycle path that ran along the highway, over the long (1-1/4 miles or so) bridge across Lake Pend Oreille, and all the way into town.
Such a nice easy day.
I am considering altering my route to Kalispell to take some more scenic roads that my host tells me are well traveled, instead of sticking to US-95/US-2. More on that later.
On Sunday morning, Sarah was on her way to Sandpoint to visit her family, so I asked her to drop me off at a particular Tesoro station on I-90. It wasn't even close to on her way, but she dropped me off there anyway. I had already made myself a sign reading "Kellogg,' on the cardboard I'd saved in Wenatchee. For 45 minutes I waited for a ride on the I-90 entrance ramp. A lot of people waved and a few honked before ai realized my problem: I had set my pack down on the side of the road, when I already knew from past rxperience that I would get rides a lot faster if I were wearing it. I put my pack back on and in about 12 minutes I was picked up by Gus, who works in Kellogg and is, coincidentally, a friend of Alicia's.
9 June: Back on the Road
After a day of relaxing and bike rides and a night of fun and rowdiness, Jess and Willy gave me a ride back to Coeur d'Alene on Monday morning and I hit the road again. Plagued by heartburn for most of the day (a reminder of the tequila I had sipped at following my beers the night before -- yes, I should know better) I walked on the bicycle path that runs along US-95 north out of town. On my way out I stopped at Black Sheep, an outfitter, and bought some bear spray. I hope that puts some of you at ease, although I have my doubts. The guy who sold it to me just shook his head, laughed, and said, "that'll piss 'em off!" For good measure he added, "ya oughta just get a pistol."
I walked an uneventful six hours, stopping to suit up for the rain when it started, and also resting about an hour for lunch. Some distance out of Coeur d'Alene I stopped at a gas station and decided that I had run out of steam. I stood at the intersection of the bike path and the gas station driveway and started to thumb it. In about 20 minutes Bob picked me up and we chatted as he drove me to Athol. He said that the nearby Farragut State Park was nice and only $12 per night, and I (not knowing it was about five miles off the highway) said "sold." Bob drove me to the park entrance and dropped me off.
I went into the office and registered for my camp site with a very helpful woman who described each of the sites and gave me more options than I was equipped to choose between. I ended up in Camp Whitetail, site 32. It was uncrowded,close to drinking water, close to the restrooms, and close to the lake; it was, in fact, close to everything -- except for the office! My spirits fell a bit, it's true, when she told me I'd have to walk another three miles to get to my home for one night.
The walk was slow going, but okay. The only wildlife were some crows, kildeer, and a dead squirrel in the road. I got to my nice, level, comfortable, idyllic camp site, set up my tent, cached my food a little too close for comfort, and crashed into my sleeping bag for a good 12 hours.
10 June: A Rude Awakening
I was startled awake the following morning by an odd buzz and a sudden THUMP! against the side of my tent. I believe I was nearly the first hiker in history frightened into cardiac arrest by a hummingbird. The adrenaline rush from this ridiculous scare was enough to get me out of bed and moving. I packed up, ate breakfast, watched a rabbit chew on grass about three feet away, and hit the road.
After about 5 miles of pleasant walking, my left hip developed a persistent sharp pain. I stopped and rested for about 15 minutes, got up and stretched, and walked another half mile or so, but the pain returned and did not subside. Not wanting to deal with that pain, I succumbed to the temptation to take the easy way out. I crossed the road and started hitchhiking, and had a ride with Brad in about 15 minutes.
Brad dropped me off at Jimmy C's Café in Athol, where I had delicious diner french toast, a perfect over-medium egg, and bad diner coffee. I sat and journaled and read and ate for a long time -- nearly two hours, I'd say -- then set off again, testing my hip, up US-95 north. After a pInless five minutes or so I stepped it up a notch and walked a pretty good clip for nine miles or so before deciding to jump ahead to Cocolalla, which would position me for a 12 or 13 mile walk to Sandpoint the following day.
It took me about 15 minutes to get picked up by Jonathan, who passed me, turned around, and offered me a ride to Sandpoint. He took me to a trailhead outside town that he said lead to national forest. I headed only about 500 yards up the trail before finding a promising looking spot next to a hillside stream. It was perfect, except that it was quite visivle from what was obviously a partiers' hangout, complete wiith trashed tent and sleeping bag, charred firepit, and half-melted Coors and Redbull cans. I decided that given the cold, wet weather there was little likelihood of a party tonight, so I went ahead and set up camp. It turned out to be a nearly perfect campsite, just large enough for me to comfortably nest in it, with ground that was perfect for my tent stakes. Thanks in part to the stream's gurgling and burbling I slept wonderfully and awoke refreshed and ready to go.
11 June: Onward to Sandpoint
Wednesday morning I packed, quickly broke my fast, and headed down the hill for my five milw walk into Sandpoint and to the home of my CouchSurfing host, Robyn. It was a pretty easy walk with no highway walking, there being a bicycle path that ran along the highway, over the long (1-1/4 miles or so) bridge across Lake Pend Oreille, and all the way into town.
Such a nice easy day.
I am considering altering my route to Kalispell to take some more scenic roads that my host tells me are well traveled, instead of sticking to US-95/US-2. More on that later.
Friday
5-8 June: IDAHO! / Coeur d'Alene
Well once again I've spent longer than I planned somewhere, but I'll back on the road today. First an update on the last few days. though.
On Thursday morning, Aron gave me a ride through Spokane, out to Spokane Valley. He dropped me off on WA-290, the road I intended to walk into Idaho until turning south on US-95 to head south to Coeur d'Alene. About ten miles into the day, I walked into Idaho. I stopped for lunch and locals' advice about a mile later at Curley's Bar & Bistro in Hauser (I felt the definitions and connotations of the word "Bistro" were a bit abused in this particular situation), and was told there was no place to camp except at Hauser Lake Resort, and I had little doubt that they charge an arm and a leg like everyone else.
I have got to get better at finding camping!
I walked two more miles up the road, noting some potential camp sites on the way, just in case, and started hitchhiking for Hayden. In less than five minutes I had a ride with Tom in an old blue beat up Chevy pickup truck. Now what a few people hintecl at but no one really impressed upon me was that Hayden is not really its own town. It's actually the sprawling, suburb-like sprawl of highway, strip malls, retail stores, Starbucks, and cookie cutter housing developments that a town the size of Coeur d'Alene seems too small to have, whereas I had been envisioning a distinct small town with its own personality. No place to camp here!
Unable to find anyplace with free WiFi, I went to Starbucks and actually paid to use it. Unfortunately, none of the CouchSurfers who listed their locations as Hayden had their phonu numbers on their profiles. Fortunately, Sarah, my Coeur d'Alene host, had left me a voicemail offering her couch a day early. I took her up on it, which is how I ended up spending an extra night.
Friday Sarah showed me around a bit and pointed out a quick hike I decided to do Saturday. Other than that, we hung out and chatted, and I made barbecued tofu sandwiches for dinner.
Saturday the weather was just plain crappy - cold & rainy - so we stayed in until mid-afternoon, when we went to meet Janna, a local CouchSurfer, for coffee. After a couple hours of great conversation we headed out for dinner at Bardenay, a local distillery whose spirits I did not sample, and then it was out for the evening with Sarah's fun and fascinating friends - thanks for the fun night in Coeur d'Alene, guys!
In a couple hours I'll be headed out to pop over to Kellogg and visit Alicia for a day, and after that I'll be on my wau north to Sandpoint and to hop onto US-2, the artery that I'll be following across the northern plains.
This is probably the last update until I reach Sandpoint on 12 June.
Tuesday
3 June: Spokane
I just posted three updates in addition to this one. I've been writing them day by day, but I have to post them all at once when I have internet access. For those of you who know me well enough to be surprised at the simple typos and misspellings in my posts, please have a good chuckle at my expense; I am typing the bulk of these blogs on a thumb keyboard and it's very time-consuming, so I have to admit that I don't reread or proofread anything, and in fact I often don't even look at what appears on the screen as I'm typing. Not wanting to spend too much of my time on the computer, I just don't care to correct my errors. It's very unlike me to have such an attitude, and I know if I ever go back and read these I''ll be embarrassed.
I'm in Spokane on a scheduled rest right now, and will be here for a couple days. There probably won't be any more big updates until Friday night or Saturday when I'm in Coeur d'Alene.
Thanks a lot to those of you leaving comments, I always look forward to reading them.
Derek
I'm in Spokane on a scheduled rest right now, and will be here for a couple days. There probably won't be any more big updates until Friday night or Saturday when I'm in Coeur d'Alene.
Thanks a lot to those of you leaving comments, I always look forward to reading them.
Derek
1 June: East to Spokane
Sunday I woke up feeling fine, and quickly started packing to leave. The sky was threatening rain, and I wanted to get moving before the clouds unloaded. I walked through the neighboring resort to warm my legs up a bit before starting uphill (from the road to the state park was about a mile, much of it uphill), and then headed out. In the meantime, the sky cleared up, and with the sun came the heat. The first two and a half miles of the day was a steady uphill. The first two miles were pretty gentle, the last half mile, not so. After that the road was very gently sloped upward for a long time. The scenery was spectacular, looking down into the canyons I had just left.
Four miles or so into the day, just when I was needing a rest from the constant climbing, I came upon the Dry Falls Interpretive Center. Bryan's father in Ephrata had mentioned this place as a worthwhile stop, so I decided to give it a look. I was happy I had stopped, it was beautiful. Something like 13,000 years, during the last Ice Age, this was the biggest waterfall the world had ever seen, about ten times the size of Niagara Falls. It was an amazing sight, and I enjoyed taking it in, knowing I was probably not going to make it to Grand Coulee.
Shortly after leaving Dry Falls I got picked up by Sandra, a DirecTV installer driving one of their little pickup trucks. She drove me two miles or so to Coulee City and dropped me off at an abandoned, out-of-business filling station. There I watched a red fox trot around for a bit. He pretended to ignore me.
I walked east out of town, having returned now to US-2. My plan was to walk the ten miles or so to Hartline, and if I could find a spot by the creek my map showed there, camp for the night. The next day I'd walk for a few miles and then hitchhike the remainder of the distance to Spokane.
About six miles east of Coulee City, I decided it was lunch time. I sat down in a driveway near a big grain elevator and took in my surroundings while I ate. The clouds had moved in again, and in the distance to the north and west I could see rain falling. I didn't really want to get wet (or set my tent up while it was raining), so I decided to start hitchhiking and maybe get to Davenport tonight. The eastbound traffic, however, was next to non-existent, so I decided to walk and hitchhike at the same time so I'd eventually reach Hartline, regardless. It worked pretty well -- I'd walk until I heard a car approaching from the west, and that was just about the perfect timing for me to turn around and stick my thumb in the air. It took about 45 minutes to get picked up, by a small pick-up that passed me by and then turned around to come back and talk to me a bit before giving me a ride. Kevin and his wife were in the cab, so I rode in the back. When I told him I was going to Davenport, he asked if I'd rather just go all the way to Spokane, and I decided not to pass up the chance.
The ride passed without anything notable happening, and they dropped me off in downtown Spokane. They invited me to attend an arts festival with them, but I was a little more concerned about setting my pack down somewhere for the night, so I declined and thanked them again for the ride.
Four miles or so into the day, just when I was needing a rest from the constant climbing, I came upon the Dry Falls Interpretive Center. Bryan's father in Ephrata had mentioned this place as a worthwhile stop, so I decided to give it a look. I was happy I had stopped, it was beautiful. Something like 13,000 years, during the last Ice Age, this was the biggest waterfall the world had ever seen, about ten times the size of Niagara Falls. It was an amazing sight, and I enjoyed taking it in, knowing I was probably not going to make it to Grand Coulee.
Shortly after leaving Dry Falls I got picked up by Sandra, a DirecTV installer driving one of their little pickup trucks. She drove me two miles or so to Coulee City and dropped me off at an abandoned, out-of-business filling station. There I watched a red fox trot around for a bit. He pretended to ignore me.
I walked east out of town, having returned now to US-2. My plan was to walk the ten miles or so to Hartline, and if I could find a spot by the creek my map showed there, camp for the night. The next day I'd walk for a few miles and then hitchhike the remainder of the distance to Spokane.
About six miles east of Coulee City, I decided it was lunch time. I sat down in a driveway near a big grain elevator and took in my surroundings while I ate. The clouds had moved in again, and in the distance to the north and west I could see rain falling. I didn't really want to get wet (or set my tent up while it was raining), so I decided to start hitchhiking and maybe get to Davenport tonight. The eastbound traffic, however, was next to non-existent, so I decided to walk and hitchhike at the same time so I'd eventually reach Hartline, regardless. It worked pretty well -- I'd walk until I heard a car approaching from the west, and that was just about the perfect timing for me to turn around and stick my thumb in the air. It took about 45 minutes to get picked up, by a small pick-up that passed me by and then turned around to come back and talk to me a bit before giving me a ride. Kevin and his wife were in the cab, so I rode in the back. When I told him I was going to Davenport, he asked if I'd rather just go all the way to Spokane, and I decided not to pass up the chance.
The ride passed without anything notable happening, and they dropped me off in downtown Spokane. They invited me to attend an arts festival with them, but I was a little more concerned about setting my pack down somewhere for the night, so I declined and thanked them again for the ride.
30 May
This morning I headed away from Bryan's house in Ephrata and on my way out of town I discovered a natural foods store that advertised produce, so I stopped in to augment my yogurt breakfast with some fruit, and maybe pick some up for lunch, too. My braeburn apple made a tasty treat, as did a banana. I saved a second braeburn for later and walked on down the road.
About three miles out of town, a guy stopped across the road and offered me a ride to Soap Lake, which I happily accepted. When I'd let Ephrata I still wasn't sure o my plan for the day; should I continue east on route 28 to Davenport, or should I head north up Grant County 17 toward Grand Coulee and maybe go up there? Soap Lake was where I'd planned to make up my mind. Getting a ride there thrust the moment of decision upon me before I had adequately prepared, but in deciding, based on the scenery, on the north-bound route, I think I handled the decision well.
As I headed north out of town, the actual Soap Lake was on my left, with reddish brown rock cliffs perhaps 20 or 30 feet tall on my right. About two miles up the road I reached the end of the lake and a mile or so later the cliffs lost themselves somewhere off to the right and before me the road ran away, long, flat, and straight, going for distance. It was so flat for several miles that I could spot the mileage markers from nearly a half mile away, whereas I had been used to seeing them when I was nearly upon them. This ability to see so far made the following hour and a half drag on, as the time between spotting a milepost and actually reaching it was about three times longer than previously.
Gradually the landscape closed in on me again in the form of Lake Lenore on the left and sage-lined hills on the right. In the distance I could see that the road took a significant turn in an uphill direction. Since there was a park to the left, I decided it would be a good idea to take a lunch break before heading up the hill. When my hour was just about up, a big blue diesel pickup that I had seen leaving Soap Lake a while earlier drove into the park from the direction I was about to head off in. I was concerned about whether there would be a place to hitchhike up ahead, because immediately upon turning left out of the park the rocks closed in on the right-hand side of the road. I approached the pickup, and the regarded me suspiciously, actually trying to drive off until I waved at them; they stopped, but I could tell they wanted nothing to do with me. They were relieved when all I wanted was information, and from what they said it sounded like beyond our current location hitchhiking would be out of the question until the area just before Dry Falls, which was just on the opposite side os Sun Lakes State Park, where I had decided to spend the night. That settled it; I would start hitchhiking now.
It took me about 25 minutes to get a ride, probably attributable to the lack of traffic in the direction in which I was headed. I had given myself a half hour deadline for catching a ride, and that time had almost passed. When an older Mazda RX-7 pulled up to a stop for me, I was a little relieved. The driver's name was Jonathan. He was wearing a white T-shirt with ripped off sleeves. He was listening to some diva belting out songs at full volume. He had a rainbow colored lei hanging rom his rear-view mirror. He didn't know where Sun Lakes was, but when we found it, just six miles up the road, he dropped me off there.
What I found a Sun Lakes was a little perplexing. The park was like an oasis, a little piece of the nineteen-fifties' idea of a park, juxtaposed on the natural beauty of the desert. Instead of taking advantage of the natural beauty of the area, the park's designers had thought it necessary to import grass, trees that didn't belong, outrageous prices for tent camping, and stupid rules, such as this one from a sign just outside the office, "do not set your tent up on the grass." Strange, I thought. If I don't set my tent up on the grass, where was I supposed to set it up? I found the answer as soon as I arrived at my park. It came in the form of a parking barrier that lay on the ground between the gravel and the grass (there was a gravel area between the paved road and the grass, which I found odd). On the parking barrier were stenciled the words, "NO TENTS BEYOND THIS POINT." Okay, then where was I supposed to set up my tent? I looked around. "Oh, I get it, ON THE GRAVEL."
This was just plain stupid. It was nearly impossible to drive my stakes in, and the only way I could be comfortable in the tent was to remain on my sleeping pad at all costs. Just so the park could preserve the nice grass that had been imported so people could feel like a park here was just like a park everywhere else. I wandered around, wondering what my 19 dollars per night was paying for, since there didn't seem to be free concessions or anything, and then I found the shower. "That's okay, included showers," I thought, until I saw the coin slot. But went I went to use the restroom I discovered what my 19 bucks was buying me: self-flushing toilets.
Feeling better with that knowledge, I went back to my site and started to throw together some dinner, including a little fruit I'd bought at the neighboring resort's general store. As I was eating, a couple guys pulled up in a car and started unloading two sites down; I was no longer neighborless here. These guys commenced to set up a comically huge tent whose size even they marveled at; apparently they had just purchased this eight-person tent without any real concept of how large it was. They were't too loud though, and sounded like decent guys -- maybe I'd actually have someone to talk to later on.
Later on (about 11:30, to be exact), I was rudely awakened by drunken laughter shouting from their camp site. I quickly realized that the population of the neighboring site had doubled, and the stupidity increased exponentially. I also realized something a bit more disturbing: I had awakened with a fever. I tossed an turned throughout the night, even after the assholes next door went to sleep around three o'clock, and I made a decision: no more campgrounds of this type. 19 dollars to camp out next to the idiot brigade was just too much.
I awoke the next day still feverish, and decided I wasn't going anywhere. I spent all of Saturday lying down, sometimes in my tent, sometimes on the grass (I'd decided I was going to use it for something). Saturday night the fever started to go away, and I was able to get to sleep with no problem. For some reason the neighbors were quiet, too.
-- Sunset at the park --
About three miles out of town, a guy stopped across the road and offered me a ride to Soap Lake, which I happily accepted. When I'd let Ephrata I still wasn't sure o my plan for the day; should I continue east on route 28 to Davenport, or should I head north up Grant County 17 toward Grand Coulee and maybe go up there? Soap Lake was where I'd planned to make up my mind. Getting a ride there thrust the moment of decision upon me before I had adequately prepared, but in deciding, based on the scenery, on the north-bound route, I think I handled the decision well.
As I headed north out of town, the actual Soap Lake was on my left, with reddish brown rock cliffs perhaps 20 or 30 feet tall on my right. About two miles up the road I reached the end of the lake and a mile or so later the cliffs lost themselves somewhere off to the right and before me the road ran away, long, flat, and straight, going for distance. It was so flat for several miles that I could spot the mileage markers from nearly a half mile away, whereas I had been used to seeing them when I was nearly upon them. This ability to see so far made the following hour and a half drag on, as the time between spotting a milepost and actually reaching it was about three times longer than previously.
Gradually the landscape closed in on me again in the form of Lake Lenore on the left and sage-lined hills on the right. In the distance I could see that the road took a significant turn in an uphill direction. Since there was a park to the left, I decided it would be a good idea to take a lunch break before heading up the hill. When my hour was just about up, a big blue diesel pickup that I had seen leaving Soap Lake a while earlier drove into the park from the direction I was about to head off in. I was concerned about whether there would be a place to hitchhike up ahead, because immediately upon turning left out of the park the rocks closed in on the right-hand side of the road. I approached the pickup, and the regarded me suspiciously, actually trying to drive off until I waved at them; they stopped, but I could tell they wanted nothing to do with me. They were relieved when all I wanted was information, and from what they said it sounded like beyond our current location hitchhiking would be out of the question until the area just before Dry Falls, which was just on the opposite side os Sun Lakes State Park, where I had decided to spend the night. That settled it; I would start hitchhiking now.It took me about 25 minutes to get a ride, probably attributable to the lack of traffic in the direction in which I was headed. I had given myself a half hour deadline for catching a ride, and that time had almost passed. When an older Mazda RX-7 pulled up to a stop for me, I was a little relieved. The driver's name was Jonathan. He was wearing a white T-shirt with ripped off sleeves. He was listening to some diva belting out songs at full volume. He had a rainbow colored lei hanging rom his rear-view mirror. He didn't know where Sun Lakes was, but when we found it, just six miles up the road, he dropped me off there.
What I found a Sun Lakes was a little perplexing. The park was like an oasis, a little piece of the nineteen-fifties' idea of a park, juxtaposed on the natural beauty of the desert. Instead of taking advantage of the natural beauty of the area, the park's designers had thought it necessary to import grass, trees that didn't belong, outrageous prices for tent camping, and stupid rules, such as this one from a sign just outside the office, "do not set your tent up on the grass." Strange, I thought. If I don't set my tent up on the grass, where was I supposed to set it up? I found the answer as soon as I arrived at my park. It came in the form of a parking barrier that lay on the ground between the gravel and the grass (there was a gravel area between the paved road and the grass, which I found odd). On the parking barrier were stenciled the words, "NO TENTS BEYOND THIS POINT." Okay, then where was I supposed to set up my tent? I looked around. "Oh, I get it, ON THE GRAVEL."
This was just plain stupid. It was nearly impossible to drive my stakes in, and the only way I could be comfortable in the tent was to remain on my sleeping pad at all costs. Just so the park could preserve the nice grass that had been imported so people could feel like a park here was just like a park everywhere else. I wandered around, wondering what my 19 dollars per night was paying for, since there didn't seem to be free concessions or anything, and then I found the shower. "That's okay, included showers," I thought, until I saw the coin slot. But went I went to use the restroom I discovered what my 19 bucks was buying me: self-flushing toilets.
Feeling better with that knowledge, I went back to my site and started to throw together some dinner, including a little fruit I'd bought at the neighboring resort's general store. As I was eating, a couple guys pulled up in a car and started unloading two sites down; I was no longer neighborless here. These guys commenced to set up a comically huge tent whose size even they marveled at; apparently they had just purchased this eight-person tent without any real concept of how large it was. They were't too loud though, and sounded like decent guys -- maybe I'd actually have someone to talk to later on.
Later on (about 11:30, to be exact), I was rudely awakened by drunken laughter shouting from their camp site. I quickly realized that the population of the neighboring site had doubled, and the stupidity increased exponentially. I also realized something a bit more disturbing: I had awakened with a fever. I tossed an turned throughout the night, even after the assholes next door went to sleep around three o'clock, and I made a decision: no more campgrounds of this type. 19 dollars to camp out next to the idiot brigade was just too much.
I awoke the next day still feverish, and decided I wasn't going anywhere. I spent all of Saturday lying down, sometimes in my tent, sometimes on the grass (I'd decided I was going to use it for something). Saturday night the fever started to go away, and I was able to get to sleep with no problem. For some reason the neighbors were quiet, too.
29 May Revisited: Wenatchee to Ephrata
First, I need to return to my walk out of Wenatchee; I didn't do it justice the other day. It was beautiful, a gorgeous morning, and the green hills, while not the lush and varied hues that I am used to from the west side of the Cascades, were nonetheless pleasant to behold. On my right was the Columbia River in its modest beginnings, much humbler than the areas I have traversed it further downstream. To my left, the terrain quickly became drier and less verdant, and spots of brown sparsely populated by sagebrush began to appear. A few miles out of town I stumbled upon a "hydro park," a curious term I'm not sure I've encountered before, that conjured images of water slides and dunk tanks in my head. I took the paved riversife path and discovered that it actually connoted (in addition to the path), a swimming area and a public boat launch. I walked the path for about a mile, grateful for the break from the highway. At one point the path was flooded (the rivers are very high here in Washington and Idaho due to extreme snow melt), and a couple trepid cyclists who had passed me minutes before were turning around, disappointed. I decided to explore the extent of the flooding by stepping four inches up on the landscaped wall and walking a bit further up the path, and discovered that it was only flooded for about fifteen feet. It was easy to get aroung it, and I think most of the cyclists I know would have been more adventurous than the pair I encounterd and checked things out before turning back, discouraged.
I rejoined the highway, and about ten miles out of Wenatchee, in Rock Island, I happily crash-landed in a truck stop booth where a pretty, country waitress slathered me with huns, darlins, babes, and a delivery of somewhat better than mediocre (why oh why did I do it?) fish and chips. Of course, after all that I needed a nap, which the waitress pointed out several times in addition to tellimg me she had seen me walking. While I ate I had taken note of the sleepiness of the truck stop, so instead of the nap that everyone including those without a say agreed I needed, I walked out to the highway and in ten minutes I had caught a ride to Ephrata with Nina.
I rejoined the highway, and about ten miles out of Wenatchee, in Rock Island, I happily crash-landed in a truck stop booth where a pretty, country waitress slathered me with huns, darlins, babes, and a delivery of somewhat better than mediocre (why oh why did I do it?) fish and chips. Of course, after all that I needed a nap, which the waitress pointed out several times in addition to tellimg me she had seen me walking. While I ate I had taken note of the sleepiness of the truck stop, so instead of the nap that everyone including those without a say agreed I needed, I walked out to the highway and in ten minutes I had caught a ride to Ephrata with Nina.
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