July 30: North Lake Dickey Campground

     I slept in this morning and hung around the town of Eureka waiting for the library to open (at 11:00 a.m.) so I could update my blog.  There were a total of two computers available for public use and as soon as my hour was up, the gestapo-like librarian was all over me to wrap it up.
     Outside, a young hippy named Tony came up to me and introduced himself.  He asked about my trip and after I told him about it, I pointed at the decked-out bike leaning up against the library wall. "That must be your bike over there."
     "No, that's my girlfriend's bike.  She's inside.  I ditched my bike about a hundred miles ago and have been hitchhiking from town to town and meeting up with her that way."  I knew exactly who his girlfriend was, judging by his look and the look of the girl sitting next to me at the other computer. 
     "Where are you guys headed?"  I asked.
     "We're going to British Columbia for a rainbow festival.  Have you heard of those?"
     "No," I shook my head, "I'm afraid I haven't."
     "Well, it's just a bunch of hippies gathering in the woods celebrating peace and love."
     "When I was younger I thought of myself as sort of a hippie."
     "Man," he began, as he held his heart with both hands, "it's all right here.  You've still got it."
     "Yeah, I think you're right."  And he wished me luck and urged me to be safe.

     I decided to make it an easy riding day.  I put in about 17 miles and pulled into the North Dickey Lake Campground and had my own personal rainbow festival, celebrating peace and love with a Going to the Sun I.P.A--a craft beer brewed in nearby Whitefish, Montana--and then another one.  And then another one.
     I have always liked National Forest Campgrounds.  They are simple, not overly-managed, and usually set near a lake or a river with some redeeming scenic qualitiies.  My wildlife for the day included one deer and an osprey.  Three times since I left Washington I have seen tall poles that seem to have been placed near lakes or rivers specifically for ospreys to build nests on.  Twice those fish-eating hawks just chirped at me repeatedly when I stopped to look.  But today, the mother (I assume) left her nest and kind of flew toward me to assure that I moved along.  I did.

North Dickey Lake Campground in the Kootenai National Forest.

Look carefully and you can see the nesting ospreys.
 

July 29: Eureka, Montana

     Early this morning, crossing the road in front of me, I saw the biggest deer I have ever seen in the wild.  It had a big rack but it was running too fast to count the points.  I'm sure any deer hunter has seen a hundred bucks that were bigger than this one, but to a casual wildlife observer like me it was pretty big.  I saw a couple more deer prancing across the road but the biggest thrill of all came a few miles later when I came around a corner and saw the unmistakable tawny yellow form of a mountain lion (my favorite animal, by the way) pop out of the woods on the right and saunter across the road into the woods on the left.  And following closely was a mountain lion cub, or kitten, or whatever you call a baby mountain lion.  They were no more than 40 yards ahead of me.  I stopped to let them get across and proceeded cautiously.  I didn't think they should eat (me) between meals.  I don't think they ever saw me because they sure didn't seem to rush to get across the road.  Later I had a staredown with another deer.
     As I write this, I am now trying to picture what goes on behind me as I ride.  If there are deer and mountain lions who are fearless enough to cross in front of me, just think of all the other animals who waited for me to pass.  Deer gleefully criss-crossing the road, perhaps a mountain lion in pursuit of one of them.  Grizzlies shaking hands with raccoons, porcupines thumbing their noses at me, bighorn sheep and elk dancing on their hind legs, etc.
     Highway 228 on the west side of Lake Koocanusa has been good to me.  In the first two hours I saw more deer than cars--4 to 2.  A cool breeze blew in from the north--the direction I am heading unfortunately--and there were plenty of clouds and a few minutes of rain.  The mountains ahead of me were completely enveloped in dark, rain-drenched clouds.  I made it to Eureka and checked into the Silverado Motel just before the rain, thunder and hail started.




The morning view over Lake Koocanusa

July 28: Lake Koocanusa

     Do I need to repeat myself?  More great mountain and river scenery all day long.

     One day when I was talking about my trip to a friend of mine, he remarked that he could never do a trip like this primarily because, being a social person, he couldn't handle the loneliness.  Well, today, my third day on my own, I found a cure for the loneliness.  I've started talking to myself.  For example, I would make a comment about the scenery--out loud--and then I would answer, "yes indeed, that IS a nice waterfall coming out of those mountains."  Or I would see a sign along the road and I would read the name of the business, such as Bill's Body Shop.  Then I would reply to myself with a rip on the name, like Bill's Shoddy Body Shop.  Next, I would have to one-up myself and say, "more like JILL's Shoddy Body Shop."  This whole exchange should give my readers a good example of the high level of intellectual activity going on in my giant brain.  Plus, I don't particularly care to be social for awhile.  My job required me to be social for more than 33 years.

     I re-supplied in Libby, Montana and then followed the Adventure Cycling route on what is called the Old Haul Road.  That little up and down and twist and turn road reminded me of a New England country lane--at least in the mountainous part of New England.  It was a 15-mile long country lane where I saw maybe a dozen cars.
     Next came a big climb up to the Libby Dam which forms Lake Koocanusa--50 miles long and about a mile wide--my goal being the MacGillivray Campground.
     What a gigantic disappointment the MacGillivray turned out to be.  The sites were exposed and overused and just plain shabby. 
     But wait a minute!  At the last minute I saw a sign that read, "Walk-in Tent Sites."  I rode my bike up the trail to the walk-in tent sites and . . .my spirits were uplifted--and that's not just the Jim Beam talking.  Up and over a small ridge, a beautiful view of Lake Koocanusa was revealed and I had the whole area to myself.  Blessed with good fortune, I am perfectly content for another evening.
     A big bald eagle flew over my campsite probably looking for dinner, which was a T-Bone steak and ramen noodles.  I would have fought him to the death for that hunk of meat if he had tried to swoop in on it.

Walk-in-only campsites make me happy.



Signs like this only pique my appetite for danger.

Libby Dam

 

July 27: Part 2--Kootenai National Forest

     The roads I mentioned turned out to be fairly level again.  They all rolled modestly up and down in the river valleys.  First it was the Cabinet Gorge Reservoir--a dammed up area of the Clark Fork River, and then Highway 56 followed the Bull River until I reached the turn off for the Bad Medicine Campground.
     There were a few events along the way worth mentioning.  I was enjoying a nice quiet stretch of Highway 200 just before the Idaho/Montana border when I heard the distant sound of a freight train's horn.  I guess a pack of coyotes heard the sound too because suddenly there was a cacophony of yelping, barking and howling.  Rarely have I heard that in the middle of the day.
     I considered staying at the Bull River Campground near the intersection of Highways 200 and 56 since it was 3:30 p.m., but then I reconsidered and moved on.  Two more campgrounds were only 15 to 17 miles ahead and I knew I could get that far in an hour-and-a-half, tops.  Unfortunately, at mile marker 3 I got another flat tire.  I changed the tube, again no big deal.  What WAS the big deal were the bees and a horsefly the size of a small sparrow that tormented me the whole time.  Twice, it felt like that horsefly took chunks out of my flesh.  Sometimes you get to the point where you just want to throw everything down, punch something, and say "f--- it."  This was one of those times.
     But I persevered and I received a few rewards.  I saw a very small deer run in front of me.  A few miles later, a very large deer ran in front of me.  And I got to enjoy some excellent Cabinet Mountain scenery.
     Eventually I made it to The Kootenai National Forest's Bad Medicine Campground and got the very last site.  I liked it a lot.  It was a small site nestled among a hillside of pines and cedars.  It was perfect for a lone bike rider.  The mosquitos swarmed me upon my arrival but they were no match for my 100% DEET.
     Most sites in this campground had bear-proof containers for your food, but this one did not.  The campground hosts, two women living together in a camper for the summer, offered to take my food with them for the night and deliver it back in the morning.  They were super-friendly.
     I grilled up a couple of pork chops purchased in Clark Fork five hours ago.  I hope they are still edible.  A bottle of Snoqualmie Reisling from Washington state, made from organic grapes, accompanied my meal.



Signs like this only pique my defiance.

July 27: Clark Fork, Idaho

     It has been an almost perfect morning.  Highway 200 has taken me around the north shore of Lake Pend Orielle (pronounced Ponderay.)  I got many great views of what has to be one of the most beautiful BIG lakes in the northwest, and the morning sun was shimmering off the gentle waves.  The route, like yesterday's, was generally pretty level and best of all, for the first time in five days of riding, the temperatures are relatively cool.  Previously, every day has been at least 92 degrees and I don't recall seeing a single cloud of any kind in the sky.  Right now it is about 75 degrees and the predicted high today is 83 and there are some nice fluffy white clouds hovering above the mountains.
     I hope this doesn't sound too perverse, but I found a couple of awesome places to urinate today.  If you have to go, I figure it might as well be in a nice spot.  The first one was overlooking an arm of Lake Pend Orielle and it was teeming with ducks and great blue herons and some other birds I could not identify.  The second spot was alongside a heavily wooded gravel side road.  The branches of the trees formed a tunnel and the shade felt luxurious.
     I am currently resting in the town of Clark Fork, Idaho.  In nine miles I will be in Montana and in ten more miles I will be turning north on Highway 56 to scout out a series of Kootenai National Forest campgrounds where I plan to spend the night.  I suspect my day and a half of level roads is about to end as I go up into the Cabinet Mountains.




Signs like this only pique my curiosity.

July 26: Sandpoint, Idaho

     It seems the old saying is true:  If you cheat once, it becomes easier to do it again and again.  Take me for instance.  On Wednesday I accepted a ride when Aaron's bike was broken down and, sure enough, that made it easy for me to let The Feeshko (my wife) drive me from her folks' house to the edge of the Spokane metro area which saved me 18 miles of negotiating heavy city traffic.
     She got her punishment for aiding and abetting though.  I forgot my wallet, so she had to go back and get it for me while I pedalled north on Highway 2.  I hope she learned a very valuable lesson.
     Lest you think I got away scot-free (I wonder what the origin of that phrase is) for my transgression, I was cursed with a flat tire in Newport which, in itself is no big deal, but in addition to that, my tire pump broke and that WAS kind of a big deal.  I walked over to the Newport Chamber of Commerce Building and asked if they had a bike shop in town.
     "No, we don't," was her answer.  "I think the closest one would be in Sandpoint, which is about 30 miles away."
     "Bummer," I said.  "Well, thank you."
     She apparently hated to see me walk away unsatisfied and called out, "What do you need specifically?"
     "I need a tire pump for my bike."
     "We have a hardware store that might carry some bike supplies," and she gave me directions.
     I was skeptical but I gave it a shot anyway.  I found my way to the hardware store and the lady there tried to sell me a little air pump that is used for kids toys or, perhaps a basketball.  So I dug deep into my bike stuff and found an adaptor so that I could pump up a new inner tube using the air hose at a gas station.  (FYI:  Air has gone up in value.  I paid a freaking dollar to fill up that tube.)  Then I took the chance that I could pedal the 30 miles to Sandpoint without another flat tire.

     My gamble paid off and I bought a new pump from a bunch of very helpful guys at a bike shop on the edge of Sandpoint.  They were also clearly envious of my adventure.

     My ride today was notable for three things:  the many mobile home parks north of Spokane, the pretty pine forests, and the spectacular Priest River which accompanied me all the way from Newport to Sandpoint, Idaho.
     Sandpoint is the ultimate tourist town.  It has trendy restaurants, plenty of hotels, some historical assets, bike trials, gift shops, outdoor stores, fudge and candy shops, and, most importantly, a gorgeous setting next to a big lake and totally surrounded by big, daunting mountains.

A Full Day in Spokane

   Today is a rest day for me.  I am spending it with my family at my mother and father-in-law's house in Spokane.  Tonight I will be taking Aaron to the Amtrack station for his trip back to Seattle. We had a great ride together and I thank him for that.  I would also like to thank all of his bike riding friends--Ryan, Alex, Max, Tony and Barry for seeing me off on my big adventure.  They are all excellent riders and they made me feel very welcome.




Left to right: Ryan, Aaron, Max, Alex, Tony, Greg