Lake Couer D’Alene, Montana, Bison National Refuge, Flathead Lake
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Starting the day with a shower was a nice experience even though it had only been one day since we had one. Les’ view was that we hadn’t suffered enough yet to deserve a shower but my attitude was, tough, I’m taking one. I was pleased to discover that there were cartoons on (kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit!) but it was time to go.
First stop was downtown to get a picture of the Cast and Blast. The camera is showing signs of electrical failure and it took multiple tries but we did finally get a shot. We headed down the Lake Coeur D’Alene road which when Les had been through last time went all the way around the lake. It doesn’t anymore. It unfortunately dead ends well past the last opportunity to turn off it. But we did get to see the Interstate Bridge in the Sky which crosses a canyon at the edge of the lake and is roughly a gazillion feet in the air. It’s supported by 3 tiny concrete pillars. Truly death defying. All this to prevent you from having to leave the highway to take a very scenic drive along the lake. Your tax dollars at work.
So when we hit the end of the road we headed back and turned off onto the street of unaffordable homes. There are some truly amazing houses in the hills above the lake. We speculated as to what these people might do to warrant such houses, especially in northern Idaho. We figured something criminal probably. The science officer (Les) wanted to launch the phasers and teach these people a lesson, but the prime directive, not to mention the shortage of phaser power (dammit Scotty, I want answers), prevented him. (Les hates overt displays of wealth. For two reasons I think. One, because he’s a liberal bordering on Communist, and two, because it’s not his overt display of wealth.)
We found the highway and headed south to follow the lake. We turned off onto Hwy 97, the Lake Couer D’Alene scenic byway. It followed the lake shore for about 15 miles. It was very scenic. We found a campsite towards the end of it down by the lake, down a dirt road past some abandoned farm houses. Looked like a nice spot. Totally empty.
At the turnoff for Hwy 3, we discovered the historic marker poking fun at Mr. Mullen’s attempt to build a military road connecting the Missouri river to the Columbia. It described how Mr. Mullen and 70 men worked for months clearing the forest and laying down corduroy road through the swamps only to have them washed out in the winter rains. I’m sure Mr. Mullen and his descendants appreciate the state’s efforts to inform all and sundry about his failure.
Hwy 3 rejoins Interstate 90 which passes through the aptly named Smelterville, followed by Kellogg. Two cities which are testaments to man’s ability to completely destroy his surroundings in his attempts to make money. The hillsides were stripped of timber then mined, then basically abandoned to bake in the sun. Now of course, the city fathers are attempting to promote tourism in the area. It doesn’t speak well for the city fathers or the people who elected them, but at least they’re trying. The do have the world’s longest gondola ride (or so the signs claim).
Our next stop was Wallace, a little town at the bottom of the pass into Montana. The highway used to go through Wallace. That is, it stopped at Wallace, you drove through Wallace, then it started back up again on the other side. This was basically because there was no room for a freeway there without sort of putting it on top of the town. But, not to be thwarted, the Federal Highway Department blasted out part of the mountainside and did just that, building the freeway on sort of the second story of Wallace. It’s fascinating to behold. It looks like something out of Tomorrowland or the Jetsons. It has a sort of futuristic-as-viewed-from-the-50’s look about it.
We stopped for supplies, sent off some postcards and headed into Montana. The next stop was St. Regis, home of Montana’s largest gift shop (or so the sign claimed) and the St. Regis “casino” home of video poker (8 machines, no waiting). After perusing the wares at the gift shop, and the free trout display, I invested 50 cents in video poker and came away with enough money to pay for 4 postcards and still get 22 cents in change! (This was to be the grand total of all money I would win gambling on the trip but I didn’t know it at the time.)
After leaving St. Regis, we followed the Clark Fork River road to Hwy 200 where we turned east to Dixon and continued on to the Bison refuge — a place Les had told me about 2 or 3 times and I was really looking forward to. When we arrived we discovered that due to “fire danger” we couldn’t take the tour. We could come back tomorrow before 11am. or we could come back in 3 days. We tried to explain that by 11am. tomorrow we’d be hundreds of miles away. We promised not to set any fires, but it didn’t help.
We didn’t take either option but took the short-tour look around. We did see our first significant wildlife on our tour. We came across a family of antelope and saw some elk off in the distance. But mostly we drove around and saw lots of dirt and no bison. Finally we found one, fenced in a sort of corral. It was “Bob the Bison”. At least that’s what we called him. He was just sort of sitting there by himself and didn’t seem like he had much on his mind. We passed the largest pile of elk antlers I’d ever seen on the way out and headed towards Flathead Lake.
At this point it was starting to get late and we determined we would not make Glacier Park before dark. We found a little campground along the lake, and after 15 or so trips around the campsite on various missions we set up camp.
Les prepared an excellent meal of potatoes and ranch style chicken chile which was significantly improved by our first beer of the trip. Les is now lighting the campfire, while I, in the grand tradition of campers everywhere, sit under a tree with my laptop, making the entry in the ship’s log. It appears tonight will be another opportunity for stargazing and another opportunity for wearing lots of clothing in the morning.
We ventured down to the lake and found a slab of cement to lie on and watch the stars. After about 10 minutes I spotted a satellite, which is the first time I’ve ever seen one I think. Les commented that there were thousands of satellites up there and it ought to be satellite central. Sure enough, another one went by in the same direction (north/south) and two more went by east to west.
We headed back to the campsite without the flashlight. There was just enough light from the stars to distinguish the road from the trees. It must be the way ghosts see the world. You see forms and images but the “reality” isn’t there. You sort of float along.
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