Fall Harvest Party

On a recent trip to visit Parker at University of Idaho in Moscow, we decided to wander on down the road about 7 miles to Washington State University in Pullman. WSU happened to be hosting a Fall Harvest Party at their organic farm. There were wagon rides, fresh pressed apple cider, and visitors were welcome to walk through the apple orchard and pick their own apples. They let us pick pumpkins in the pumpkin patch too!



This is Jack. He currently lives in Hayden, Idaho, but his roots are in Pullman, Washington.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Biking the Route of the Hiawatha

If you're looking for a fun way to experience some of the beauty and history of North Idaho, bike the Route of the Hiawatha!

In August, my family and I took this 17 mile bike ride, and traveled along some of the most stunning stretches of railroad in the country!

We followed the trail over 7 trestles and through 10 tunnels!

The longest tunnel we traversed was Taft Tunnel which is almost 2 miles long and passes under the Idaho/Montana state line.You need to wear a helmet with a light on it or carry a flashlight while pedaling through it. You might consider bringing a sweatshirt or light jacket too as most of the tunnels were eerily dark and cold even on the hot day in August when we passed through them. Maybe it's just me, but Taft Tunnel felt like a scene from a horror movie! No train has passed through this tunnel since 1980, but I couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment I might hear a train whistle and see a light at the end of the tunnel growing bigger, and we'd be trapped in the tunnel with a train rumbling toward us!

But as soon as I rode out of the tunnel and back into the warm sunshine, my fears disappeared and I lost myself in the breathtaking scenery! I kept stopping along the edge of the trail to read the signs that gave the incredible history of the railroad, including its construction that began in 1905. I read about the 3 million acre forest fire, the largest fire in U.S. history, that ripped through the area in 1910, and about the 400 people who survived the fire by hiding in Taft Tunnel. I also read about the railroad transporting passengers and freight from the Northwest to the Midwest until it finally went bankrupt in 1977 and was abandoned in 1980.

This is the grave of a track worker known as "Gandy Dancer". During the fire of 1910, he panicked and jumped from the train as it neared a burning trestle. Remarkably, he was the only railroad casualty of the fire!



When you finally reach the bottom of the 17 mile trail, if you're in seriously good shape (or maybe just a glutton for punishment), you can turn around and ride back up! Thankfully, however, there is another option. There's a bus waiting at the bottom, so you can load your bike onto it and catch a ride back to the top. We took the bus!

You do get to bike through Taft Tunnel again though, as the bus does not go through it. So, during our second trip, Ryan thought it would be hilarious to turn off his flashlight so he could sneak up and scare Andrew. Instead, he fell into one of the ditches running along either side of the tunnel, and now he has a new scar and story to regale his friends and family with. If it’s true that “girls dig scars” then my Ryan should be quite the ladies’ man some day.

Oh, the squirrels were friendly too.

The Hiawatha Trail is operated by Lookout Pass Ski Area which is located adjacent to I-90 at the Idaho/Montana state line, and it’s usually open 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. from late May to early October. Bikes and equipment are available for rental. For more information, call (208) 744-1301.

Festival at Sandpoint

Every summer, people are drawn to the lights and the fantastic sound of music coming from a tent out in a field in Sandpoint, Idaho. There is dancing, wine tasting, food, friendship, and love. This is Festival at Sandpoint. We were there the second night to see Brandi Carlile, a rising star who is referred to as “the alt-country-folk-rock darling” from Washington State. I was actually turned onto Brandi’s music a couple of years ago when I heard her singing “The Story” on the radio, and I’ve been a fan ever since, so when I heard she was coming to the festival, I purchased tickets that same day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8pQLtHTPaI

Opening for Brandi, was Ian McFeron, another artist from the Northwest with kind of an acoustic folk-rock sound. Really good!

Ahhh…standing barefoot in the grass with a glass of champagne in my hand, watching people laugh and dance, chatting with the people around us, and listening to Brandi Carlile sing “Josephine”…It was pure magic.

Kayaking Lake Coeur d'Alene

For a couple of years now, I’ve been harboring a secret desire. I’ve been wanting to try kayaking. I don’t know why I’ve kept it a secret. It sounds silly, I guess, but I’ve been a little nervous about it. I mean, what would happen if I was out in the middle of a large body of water in a little plastic boat and it capsized? Would I be able to get back in, or would I be adrift for hours or even days at the mercy of passersby on real boats with motors? Or worse! Maybe the kayak would turn upside down with me in it and I wouldn’t be able to escape! Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. Would I even be able to get into the thing in the first place? I know what you’re thinking. It’s not bungee jumping! It isn’t hang gliding! It’s only kayaking, for crying out loud! Right? I know. But the first time I tried waterskiing, I forgot to let go of the rope when I fell, my ski didn’t come off, I twisted my ankle, and ended up on crutches for a couple of days. It wasn’t pretty. And the first time I went snow skiing, I fell getting off the chair lift and lost one of my skis…Embarrassing. So, you see? I’m a klutz.

However, I’m happy to report that my fears are behind me now. Yes, after living in the Coeur d’Alene area for more than five years, I finally saw Lake Coeur d’Alene the way it was meant to be seen, by kayak! Sunday morning, ROW Adventures took my family and I on a four hour tour of the lake! The water was calm, and the experience was peaceful and relaxing at times. At other times, the water became choppy and it was more of a workout. The scenery around the lake was beautiful.

My oldest son, Parker, looks mature here...Don't let the picture fool you.

We came within just a few yards of an Osprey nest built on top of a log sticking up out of the water. When we got close enough to see the babies in the nest, the mother bird spread her wings and flew low over our heads, attempting to show us how big and scary she is. We saw a huge bald eagle up in a tree, and other wildlife too. Half way through our tour of the lake, we stopped at a more remote location where we got out of our kayaks and had a snack next to this bulldozer that was abandoned over 100 years ago! It was pretty cool, but I’m glad we made it out of there without anyone needing a tetanus shot!

Our guides, Stephanie and Tanner, were very informative, giving us some history on the wild fire of 1910, and teaching us about wildlife and plants along the way. Stephanie pointed out some wild berries that my son could eat. That’s when Ryan learned that just because you CAN eat something doesn’t mean you SHOULD! When he discovered they are painfully sour, our guide picked some yarrow for him to eat. According to Ryan, the yarrow wasn’t exactly delicious either, but not as nasty as those sour berries.

Oh, and kayaking is easy! It isn't scary at all. The only person who capsized was Andrew, and it was Parker's fault. That was Ryan's story anyway. It isn't hard to get in either. Just remember, "boot, butt, boot" and you'll be fine.

Julyamsh

Saturday, I attended the 13^th annual Julyamsh Celebration, the largest outdoor powwow in the Pacific Northwest. I had never been to a powwow before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Hosted by the Coeur d’Alene Tribe of Idaho, Julyamsh was a three day social gathering of different tribes, and non-Indians were welcome there too. It was a huge celebration with drumming, singing, and dance competitions. There were arts, crafts, and beautiful jewelry for sale, lots of food, and even a performance by Apache Skateboarders!

The dancers wore fantastic outfits! We were told to refrain from touching their regalia as they have ceremonial and sometimes special meaning to each person. Many of the outfits were constructed by family members and are considered family heirlooms. I did have the opportunity to ask a young girl about her dress, though. She, along with many of the other women, had pieces of metal shaped like little horns hanging from her outfit. I was surprised when she told me they were tobacco lids, and that she made her own dress! It was beautiful! (Sadly, I did not get a picture of her.)

Similar to the respect we show to the American flag, respect is shown to the eagle staff. When it is brought in during grand entry, hats are removed and everyone stands. If an eagle feather falls from an individual's regalia, everything stops until the feather is returned to the owner. Returning the feather to its owner is an honor given to veterans who have seen war.

A respected elder said a prayer at the end of the grand entry. Much of the prayer was given in his native language, but he gave a portion of it in English. Even with so many people in attendance, there was a feeling of great reverence.

It is important to understand that a powwow is not a tourist attraction. It's a way for Native Americans to honor their culture. Most of the dancers and drummers will allow you to take their picture, but it is always a good idea to ask permission before photographing someone. Pay attention to advice given by the MC, and turn off cameras and video recorders during ceremonial rituals, when he announces that they are not allowed.
I thoroughly enjoyed this rich show of Native American cultures, and I highly recommend this powwow to anyone who is interested. I will look forward to attending again next summer.

Hooked

This morning, as we traveled the winding road to Fernan Lake, the sun rose above the pine trees, illuminating a portion of the lake and drawing my attention to the thick mist covering the water.

We stopped to allow two deer to cross the road before us.

From down on the bank, I cast out into the lake. I’m beginning to like that whirring sound the fishing line makes as it leaves my pole, and the splash the lure makes when it hits the water. After a few minutes, I felt a little tug on my line and I noticed that my bobber had disappeared. “Maybe it’s caught on some lily pads,” I thought. Then, there was another tug! I decided to tug back, and I ended up reeling in my first catch in 30 years! It was my first catch EVER if you don’t count the fish I caught in my grandpa’s pond when I was little. (He baited the hook, cast the line, and helped me reel it in.)

It wasn’t very big, but let me tell you something. I was proud.

A few minutes later, I caught a second fish that looked so much like the first that I’m not sure which fish I’m holding up in which of these pictures. Anyway, I think I’m hooked.

Can anyone tell me what type of fish I caught?

Fishing at Fernan Lake

After consulting with my new blogging friend, Daniel, and Josh at Black Sheep Sporting Goods about where to fish and what type of bait to use, I knew just enough to be dangerous. So, yesterday, at 5:30 in the morning, I dragged my family, messy haired and bleary-eyed, from their beds down to Fernan Lake to catch some fish. I was determined that we would fish until we caught something. A force to be reckoned with, for the next two hours, I cast and reeled, cast and reeled, cast and reeled…

Ryan now has a story he can tell about the one that got away.

Here’s a picture of Terry with his catch of the day.

I ended up catching the exact same thing I caught the last time I went fishing, a lily pad, a sun burn, and a whole lot of nothing! But, somewhere between the big trout Ryan had on his line that got away and Terry’s three inch bass, I came to a realization. I thought about the way the lake looked when we arrived earlier that morning, calm and still, and the Great Blue Heron on a rock a few yards away. With admiration, I watched a team of rowers cross the water, a lone woman in her row boat, and a grandfather fishing with his grandsons. I noticed the beautiful pine tree covered mountain on the other side of the lake, the wind in my hair, and the determined look on my son’s face as he cast his line back into the water. And that’s when I had my epiphany. I realized that, like life, it’s more about the journey than the destination. Fishing is not so much about catching a fish. It’s about fishing.