Turnbull Wildlife Refuge

Daughter Jessie was getting married so naturally I instead went hiking. Kidding! Actually Dollie and I drove up to Spokane for the very special event which I actually attended. However, the days before the wedding did provide me at least one opportunity to slip away for a mental-health hike on a crisp day that hovered somewhere between winter and spring.

Let the mosquito breeding begin!

The hike of choice was Turnbull Wildlife Refuge as it was a reliable snow-free destination in an area surrounded by mountains covered with snow. At the start, the day was overcast and it felt like it just might rain. However, I cared less about the rain and more about the brisk and biting wind blowing through my layers of clothing. So with a rueful "Dang, it's cold", I set out on the trail, leaving the rustic buildings of the refuge headquarters behind.

Windmill Pond

The double track trail (another term for gravel road) led to marshy Windmill Pond where a small boardwalk provided a view of the tranquil waters. Small birds twittered in the bushes and that was it for any wildlife sighting at Windmill Pond. Because I was wandering aimlessly in an area I was not familiar with, I continued on the first gravel road I saw, which promptly headed up a rolling hill forested with Ponderosa pine.

The loneliness

After a half-mile or so, the road broke out of the forest and an endless prairie of short grass stretched out in front of me. All that wind was working hard at blowing the clouds away and I actually got to enjoy blue sky and bright sun off and on for the rest of the day. It still was cold though. Below the trail reposed the bright blue waters of Middle Pine Lake, surrounded by a bowl of dried brown grass. An intersection with the Stubblefield Trail called to me because it probably had stubble and a field on it.

Blue sky on a winter day

Despite the relatively flat and seemingly dry terrain, there was standing water everywhere. Flanking the trail were ponds and puddles of all sizes and shapes, which no doubt attract migrating birds in birding season. A pamphlet obtained at the headquarters mentioned moose but on this day I was virtually the only wildlife out on the sparse and treeless steppe.

This way to the Mississippi!

This was a great cloud day as clouds formed and reformed overhead, making for slow going as I chronicled each and every atmospheric change with my camera. The trail was unrelentingly straight and I felt if I would keep hiking on it, I'd wind up on the banks of the Mississippi River at some point. The terrain was basically flat but there were a lot of  gentle rolling ups and downs with each little depression containing a body of water sparkling in the intermittent sun.

The Washington State Tree

At about the 2.5 mile mark, Stubblefield Lake came into view, appropriately surrounded by stubble and fields. Ducks, in a rare wildlife sighting, flew away in feathered panic at my arrival. There was actually one tree at the lake so I had to take a picture of it. It was just the perfect place to sit down, shivering in the brisk breeze, and contemplate the stark beauty of the panorama before me.

Not the "Long and Winding Road"

At Stubblefield Lake, another road followed a fence line back towards the refuge headquarters and that was my return route. More clouds, more blue sky, more grass, and more lakes were my source of both entertainment and mental health therapy as I walked. Just a grand, albeit chilly, day in eastern Washington.

Cheever Lake

Cheever Lake is the largest of the Pine Lakes and I took a short side trip to visit the blue lake. A bald eagle was patrolling the sky above the lake but never got close enough for me to get a picture of it. The trail to the lake continued on but totally in the wrong direction so I backtracked and took a left turn on the trail back to the Pine Lakes.

Paved trail next to Middle Pine Lake

This is a wildlife refuge and signs admonished me to stay on trail as the grasslands next to Cheever Lake were are reserved for birds only. I sure hope the moose can read those signs! At Middle Pine Lake, I grabbed a trail that wandered on the opposite side of the lake and a family of trumpeter swans regally paddled away from me. The trail was civilized and totally paved as it wandered past the maze of water channels at the lake's inlet.

Storm blowing in at the end of the hike

Timed it just right because a noticeable storm was blowing in from the south and I made it back to the trailhead just as the rain started. All in all it was a good hike that left me mentally fortified for the next round of wedding preparations.

Joy

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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The Trail of the Coeur d' Alenes was a smash hit

This cycling trip was all about "The Accident" so let's just get that out of the way, particularly as it occurred just two miles into the ride. I was taking a picture of Dollie from the bike seat when she stopped. I couldn't figure out why she was getting bigger in my viewfinder until I just about plowed into the back of her at 20 miles per hour.

The last picture before the crash

With only one hand on the handlebar, the swerve-and-break maneuver was doomed from the start. The bike went down and I kept going until the feet tied to the pedals came into play, cracking me like a whip face-first into the pavement. A dropped watermelon sound echoed through my head as my jaw broke and dislocated and I'm not even sure how I hurt my right hand as badly as I did. Plus my head bounced like a basketball off the pavement.

Crashing makes me sad

So we stopped the bleeding from the cheek I'd opened up right underneath the purpling eye and Dollie asked me what I wanted to do. Well, I did what any self-respecting cyclist would do: I got on the bike and kept riding. In my defense, the decision to keep riding was made mere minutes after taking a blow to the head.

On the way to Smelterville

The Trail of the Coeur d' Alenes is a 72 mile converted railway path that runs from Mullan to Plummer in northern Idaho. For those readers unfamiliar with Idaho geography, the trail basically crosses the Idaho Panhandle. The trail is remarkably flat and the smooth pavement allows riders to glide along relatively effortlessly. Still, it'd be a lot cooler without the bone fractures.

Arrival at Kellog

The first third of the trail goes through several historic mining towns:  Wallace and Kellog being the most prominent. There were piles and berms of mining slag on either side of the trail. Near Kellog, we rode past the infamous Bunker Hill Mine, site of a Superfund cleanup where several feet of lead-poisoned topsoil had been removed from most of Kellog. After the cleanup, grateful residents applauded with all three hands. With my purple eye, dislocated jaw, and scraped lip, I probably looked like someone who had drank early and often from the Bunker Hill well.

Osprey, shrieking at us

You have not been anywhere until you've been to Smelterville and once we left the town with the least alluring name ever, it was all rural countryside until Harrison, about 40 miles later. The Coeur d' Alene River would be our pathside companion and we observed bald eagles, osprey, Canadian geese, ducks, and deer living life along the numerous lakes, marshes and river as we cycled past. We did not see any moose but their muddy tracks cris-crossed the paved bike trail as we wandered amongst the many Chain Lakes.

Lake Coeur d' Alene

In the late afternoon, the Coeur d' Alene River suddenly widened and just like that, we arrived at the very large Lake Coeur d' Alene, near Harrison. We stopped for some drinks and ice cream. My mouth did not fit right, my teeth were all loose (they were fractured, I just didn't know it yet) and eating ice cream was quite the painful challenge.

"ooo-ooo-o-ooh" moaned the Chacolet Bridge

Several miles past Harrison, we hit the 10-mile (to go) marker and just past that the trail entered a causeway that took us across the lake on the Lake Chatcolet Bridge. The wind was blowing through the metal railings which emitted an eerie "ooo-o-o-o-ooh" sound as we cycled past, just like a father scaring his young children at night. It took a long time and years of therapy for my girls to forgive me.

Easy for you to say

Once on the west side of the lake, we could see our campground across a narrow arm, just a few miles away. Unfortunately, we had to pedal 15 more miles to get there. Also unfortunately, the last 7 miles of bike trail were all uphill in a cruel trick to play on cyclists after 65 miles. Persevering, we finally plopped down in blessed relief at the Hn'ya')pqi'nn Trailhead. Trying to pronounce the name with a dislocated jaw was nigh impossible.

Plop, plop, fizz, fizz...

...oh, what a relief it is!

We had made arrangements for Dollie's mother to pick us up, but alas, she was not getting cell phone reception at the campground. We had to ride another 8 miles to the campground, up a nice little 6% grade as I cursed cheap cell phones. But we did arrive at the campground just in time for sunset. It was a joyous reunion with Ibuprofen before cutting our vacation short, returning to Roseburg and bone graft surgeries. You could say the Trail of the Coeur d' Alenes was a smash hit!

Nice sunset, but pass me the ibuprofen

For the rest of the pictures, please visit

my photo album of this scenic ride.