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
Sunday
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.
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