After a break to reset in Missoula, we left the cheap motel as fast as we could and headed west for Idaho.
I'd picked up two Sena 10C headsets with integral video cameras to replace the Cardo units we've used the last couple of years and was pleasantly surprised that the video quality was better than expected. After years of dealing with all the GoPro mounts and battery issues I was happy to have the 10C's as helmet cams.
I'd heard of Coeur d' Alene from various people over the years and felt the need to see it in person. It so happened that our time in Virginia City had connected us with the two folks who'd lived in the region and we headed west for Prichard Tavern, Idaho, on the recommendation of it being a good place to camp.
Interstate 90 from Missoula was fast with high headwinds and by the time we hit St. Regis the pummeling was a bit irritating. We planned to ride the St. Joe Scenic Byway into Idaho from St. Regis, Montana, but it was getting late in the day and I didn't think we'd have time to make the entire loop and get back up to Prichard so we punted and headed up MT 200 for Thompson Falls, yet another beautiful ride along the Clark Fork River, wide and slow as it cut the valley. At Thompson Falls we headed west on 471, winding up over a pass amidst forests and setting sunshine patches. As the temperature dropped in the fading light we almost missed the turn for Prichard Tavern, pulling sharply left onto the dirt road loop and parking in front.
The old tavern had a couple of customers and the bartender said camping would be $10 for the night, a deal as tired as we were. The owner was out back about to water the tent sites, so it was good to catch him just before he hit the water handle. I asked about any need for bear bags and he laughed, saying there were none near there.
We were the sole campers that evening, the last customers leaving about 9. The owner had spent some time talking with us, discussing his retirement from a life in Honolulu and the restoration of the old tavern, built in 1890 or so. He said the history of the area and the tavern included a dispute between Wyatt Earp and the tavern owner, Prichard, over a mining claim.
As we sat on the rear porch making a pot of Ramen noodles, one of the cooks came out of the kitchen to admire our backpacking stove. Alan said he'd never seen a compact stove and thought they'd be great for his fishing trips. As he walked away I told Kim I thought Alan needed a stove, so I grabbed the spare I'd brought and an extra fuel canister. Alan eventually came back out for a smoke after closing the kitchen and we presented him with the kit. He was quite shocked and thrilled, telling us to wait and disappearing around the corner with his new toy. About 20 minutes later he returned with three frozen trout he'd caught the day before, a couple of koozies and matchbooks from the Golden Beaver Saloon where he worked as a second job.
He was very excited and we were as well, having just been discussing a hunger for some fresh fish from a mountain stream. Alan sat and talked a bit about living in an area with no cell or internet as well as his desire to retire to Lake Texoma on the Texas-Oklahoma border to fish for shad and stripers. I told him he was in a much better spot currently in my opinion. He laughed but said it was his dream.
Shortly after Alan left, the tavern owner brought out a big basket of fried chicken necks and gizzards, telling us to eat as much as we could as they were shutting down the restaurant and his wife had just fried up the remaining chicken for us. We weren't hungry but still managed to scarf them down in the dark.
The next day started with blue skies and sunshine as we headed southwest for I-90 and Lake Coeur d' Alene. The road from Prichard Tavern towards I-90 was a nice ride, followed by the pleasant surprise of the town of Wallace. It was a place of character and charm, having expected to find something else. The hotel manager in Virginia City, Ronie, had told us she'd grown up there and we were glad we'd ridden through, twice in fact to take it in.
At the gas station a couple on a Harley rode in, the woman walking up and talking to us about motorcycles and riding, excited to know we'd come from Texas and telling us the "Testicle Festival" was happening in Missoula and they were heading that way for the weekend. She wished us well and we headed out onto I-90 where the headwinds were again strong, slapping us upside da' head until we reached 97 on the east side of Lake Coeur d'Alene.
The region and homes on the pretty road seemed more at home in upstate New York than in Idaho, but the road and lake were beautiful. We stopped for gas at a general store, two brand new KLR's parked in front. As we walked in two guys at an outside table spoke up and asked us about the bikes. They were from Spokane and we talked a while. They recommended we see the town of Coeur d'Alene as they said it was very cool.
Inside the store the smell of homemade gourmet pizza shattered our wills and we grabbed one, sitting outside in Adirondack chairs with a great view of the lake.
After pizza, we headed for St. Maries and the St. Joe River Scenic Byway. Having asked about the road, we'd been told both that it was nice, smooth and paved as well as a truck driver who warned us it was steep, rough and unmaintained. Since it was late the previous day, we had blown off the idea at the time. From St. Maries we headed west-ish on the St. Joe River Road, going for miles in interesting landscape, eventually the road getting tight and twisty. The log trucks were in full bloom, roaring past at high speeds and taking the curves wide. Kim was nervous and wisely so, and I commented on how bad it would be to be on the receiving end of one tipping over. It was just a couple of miles further down the road that there sat a big pile of broken wood and bark on the roadside with huge scraping scars in the asphalt, testimony of a recently rolled logging truck.
The road and ride went on for miles and miles through the tight canyon with great curves and scenes of the river. We stopped along the way for a few pics and a short break at a small general store.
The day was getting late as we finally hit the dirt section of the road at the Montana line for the final stretch back into St. Regis. In fact, both of the previous descriptions of the road were true - the Idaho side was smooth and easy blacktop, with the road turning to dirt on the Montana side. The Scenic Byway was a great road and a motorcyclists dream - twists, turns and almost no vehicles for about 70 miles or so.
From St, Regis we headed back for Highway 200 towards Thompson Falls, looking for a camping spot or a cheap motel. We stopped at the Quinn Hot Springs to inquire, but they didn't offer camping and rooms were almost $300. One of the staff said there was a sister motel in Plains that should have a room for us much cheaper.
We saddled up again, fatigue showing in each of us after the very long day. We rolled into Plains as the sun set, only to find the motel locked and a sign on the door. I made multiple calls to the number and waited while Kim rode to the other end of town to see if anything was available.
While waiting at the motel, a truck pulled up and two firefighters got out. It was then I realized we were screwed. I'd seen the smoke of a forest fire ahead and realized that all the rooms in the area were probably taken by fire crews.
Eventually the night clerk returned and told me there were no vacancies anywhere in the area. Kim rolled up and told me in the headset she'd found nothing, so I asked him if we could put up a tent behind the place. He said emphatically no, but then hesitated and said that the local fairgrounds allowed camping.
Once again we got on the bikes and found the fairgrounds, a small house with lights on apparently housing the attendant and wife. I knocked on the door and when the man answered I explained our situation. He nicely responded that I could pay them $10 for camping, or we could just go a block away to the river and camp on the grass in the city park. He wanted to know all about our trip and when I finished the 5 minute spiel we rode back to the park, only to see a huge sign saying "No Overnight Camping!"
It was hard to trust whether the man was telling us the truth that it was ok or if he simply didn't know they had changed the rules, but the river was beautiful, we were exhausted and starving and neither of us could face riding anymore. I found a protected spot that was a bit hidden, but the park had a lot of folks still there so we made dinner at a picnic table and did a stealthy unloading of the bikes.
As it got darker most of the folks dwindled away save for a few teens swimming near our chosen spot. Finally it seemed time to put up the tent in the dark and get everything ready, being careful to not draw attention. The last three teens finally got cold in the water and left and we relaxed a bit, until a moment later we saw two LED headlamps crossing the bridge towards us. We sat in the dark and watched as the two lights transformed into teens on bicycles, literally pulling over directly above us and shouting loudly "Blood!", "Blood!"
It was weird sitting in the dark like two kids hiding, while headlamps flashed above us, eventually landing on our tent and us, the two teens suddenly whispering loudly "There's people camping there! There's campers!" The bikes quickly pedaled off and we finished getting set up, not knowing if the kids were going to call the cops or what. At any rate I no longer cared and prepared to go to bed. As we finished getting gear stowed we saw a single light crossing the long bridge and again it stopped directly above us. We sat in silence and watched as the headlamp flashed all around us eventually hitting the tent and pausing for a long look. By this time it seemed the local teens had decided we were fodder and Kim yelled out loudly at the headlight focused on our tent "Can we help you?" The voice responded back "I'm a bicyclist looking for a camping spot" Relieved to not have to deal with another teen we happily helped him down the bank and pointed him to the park. He'd ridden in from Idaho and didn't get to Plains until almost midnight. Things finally settled down and we got some sleep.
