Yesterday’s heat didn’t exactly give way to anything that could be considered cool overnight, but it was tolerable. The campground was on the bank of the Columbia, above Chief Joseph dam, so the water barely moved along the bank. There was a swimming area, but the water was low and the slow moving water gave purchase for some unappealing aloe along the bottom. I walked in with my sandals on and it was like bathwater. The landscape across the river was desert-like, but pretty in the morning sun.
A camp coffee and a shower and we were away….to get fuel that is….for me that is….
The plan was to head for Grand Coulee for breakfast, and then on to some side roads and end up in Bonner’s Ferry for the night. Of course Kirk and Hans had reviewed the master plan and changed it all….roads on maps that looked better than the firs set we’d decided on were chosen as alternates. One had me concerned….it was a road in past a ski hill and that had me a bit wigged out about sand and gravel that may still be on the road.
But first it was highway 17 to highway 174 and through the semi-moonscape of the desert until we reached the viewpoint above the Grand Coulee dam. The dam, built through the 1930’s and completed in 1941, was the largest concrete structure in the world until the dam on the Yangtze River was built in 2006. It also wiped out one of the most amazing populations of Chinook salmon, previously known as ‘June hogs’ for their size and for the fact that they were a spring run of salmon that migrated over 1600km up the Columbia river and into Canada. The dam wiped out all of the anadromous salmon populations up-river and blocked access to 1700km of spawning habitat.
We stopped in town for a late’ish breakfast before heading up highway 15 and towards highway 13. As we passed the high school, the sign outside said “Go Raiders” and I remembered being at a conference in Portland in December when someone took the stage for a presentation on an enhancement related project in the area, they’d introduced themselves as being from the Colville Tribe and someone else in the audience had yelled out “GO RAIDERS!”. I guess I now know pretty much exactly where they were from.
The first stretch of side road was highway 13, which turned into Cache Creek Road , and it was epic! Fabulous corners, interesting scenery, and pretty good pavement; we rode through rolling rangeland and into ponderosa pine forest, before popping out on highway 21. I admit that I was struggling a bit with the weight of the luggage and the way it changed the handling of the bike, but I still managed some pretty good corners….albeit with a fair bit of moaning during the breaks….Hans “suggested” I eat a Snickers….
C’mon tho’. I don’t ride with much more than a tail bag at the best of times, and only about once a year do I put the hard luggage on. Add another large duffel dry-bag on the tail and another smaller dry-bag on top of that and I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. It takes awhile to get used to pushing the bike into a corner and having the added weight drive it farther down than you expect making one make split second decisions on how to manage…..and to realize that the bike will always go farther than I am comfortable making it. In those moments, you breathe in and trust the bike’s capabilities….which will always exceed mine.
We rode up highway 21 until we came to Bridge Creek Road, a wonderful long stretch of road that twisted up through thick forested areas until it descended into the community of Inchelium.
We refuelled in Inchelium, or I did anyway, and then we zipped down to the ferry dock for a short wait for the cable ferry to dock and load us. I pulled off my helmet and said “Whew, it’s HOT” and a woman in a van next to me said, “It may be hot, but you look great!”. She said that she and her husband were looking at my dry bags and then she asked me a bunch of questions about some of the other gear I had. They have a bike, but she rides on the back, she was super nice and wished us a safe and fun ride as we docked after the quick trip across the water.
At Gifford we turned onto the Addy-Gifford Road and headed across another great stretch of highway. This one did have some gravel and sand, though it was better than I’d anticipated. I think I decided that the road up to Mount Baker is worse and I ride that one enough to be semi-comfortable on it….but not with the weight of all the baggage…
One thing amused me along the way…as we came closer to Addy there were more of the usual religious signage, but there was one regarding the Ten Commandments….and then followed by ten signs each with one of the commandments written out on it. After the second, and as the third was visible in the distance, I muttered “good lord” inside my helmet….well….guess which was the next commandment 🤣
After a bit of a rest in the shade, and a couple of circles in the gravel lot across the road as we tried to figure out which way we were heading now.
Flowery Trail Road was up next! This was the road with the ski-hill and, except for a few isolated bits of less than stellar pavement, it was pretty great. Definitely better than Baker….and with some typical backroad signage…complete with shotgun damage.
We eventually popped out on highway 20 and ran down into Newport where we found an air conditioned place for lunch and refreshments.
Then it was a ride north and into Bonner’s Ferry for the night. We had rooms booked at the Idaho Lodge and RV park, a nice enough spot with clean rooms and a lovely woman at the desk when we arrived, and on the outskirts of town. We confused her because Kirk told her the room was under his name….and she was a bit panicky because she could find Hans’ room but not ours…until I asked if it was actually under my name. Crisis averted.
We wanted to go down into town to a brewery, but none of us had the inclination to put gear back on. Kirk looked for an Uber (nope…too small a town), or a text. He thought he’d found a taxi company and we were upbeat until we went into he lobby and the woman running the evening show told us that she was pretty sure there wasn’t a taxi in town, that every taxi operator was eventually run out of town but he police because, without enough fares to be economically viable, they generally turned to running drugs.
Ahh……darn. To the taxi, not the drugs.
However, in another show of American hospitality, she called her husband and tried to convince him to come and pick us up and take us for a beer. But he was busy for a bit, and the brewery closed at 8pm…time was too short. She suggested a place next door, the Two Tones Cafe. It was excellent!!!
After dinner we popped across the highway to the Safeway and bought something for a nightcap, retiring to the front steps of the now closed for the evening lodge, and watched the world drive by. The local constabulary in particular…..as the police car drove up and down he highway, pulling one truck over, driving around the back of the lodge and through the RV park, and then back up the highway for another pass. Sleepy little place.
And that completed day two on the road.