I am getting so shamefully far behind with this blog, I can barely remember this far back! So this one could be relatively brief.
We breathed in the last of the salty Pacific North West air and left the ocean behind us for the rest of the trip. As we drove east through Washington state, the Snoqualmie Pass gave us a taste of fresh snow before we hit sunnier skies, continuing into Idaho. Not the potato-laden Idaho of the south, think more mountains, lakes and trees-Idaho.
Just as I thought my tush was recovering from the Seattle bike ride a week ago, here comes another bike ride to put it to the test. A forty miler this time, not insignificant on a mountain bike, even if it was on paved bike paths. The Trail of the Coeur D’Alenes took us from Heyburn State Park, over Chatcolet Lake by way of a super cool mile long pedestrian/bike only bridge. Fantastic lake and mountain views the whole way.
The Cycle Haus coffee shop in quaint Harrison was a thankful sight along the way.
Our home for the week was Blackwell Island RV park in Coeur D’Alene – CDA for short. Lots of other RVs thought it was a good spot to hang out too, a bigger and busier campsite than our recent hangouts. Almost a lakeside view and lots of migrating north-bound Canadian geese for company (they can go where us mere non-Canadian humans can not).
Tubbs Hill was centrally located in downtown CDA, with lots of trails to choose from for our morning walks.
In contrast to the bustling friendly co-working space in Bainbridge, R Mutual Space office in CDA had all the privacy we could want, as we had our own office. Other co-workers were few and far between. Probably a good thing as the only ones who took up residence for a day in the next office had guns holstered on their belts and chanted prayers before starting their meeting.
Didn’t manage to get a photo from our visit to Jeremiah Johnson brewing company in CDA, other than this. Can attest to their beer though, especially the Mountain Man scotch ale.
Looking for a change of scenery on Friday night, we drove a little further north to a small town called Sandpoint. There were no No Camping or No Overnight Parking signs at the City Beach, which was in walking distance of a couple of breweries. We had read some reviews that warned of boy racers using the car park to do laps, but things were relatively quiet as we snuck back into the BaseCamp after visiting the breweries, trying to keep a low profile.
Pretty cool, although a little smaller than the NYC version.
In the morning, Darren squinted through the front window, trying to work out what foreign object lay on the back of the truck. Oh, it’s an egg. Or what remains of it. Seems the local sport is target practice, throwing eggs at trucks.
Ho hum, could have been worse, tis but a flesh wound.
