The Funny Way of Fate

The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate.

--William Sydney Porter, aka O. Henry

I’m still in the city with a funny name in Idaho.  Yesterday I had thought that I would leave today to go to Glacier National Park, but it was such a warm and beautiful day that I figured I’d maybe stay one more day and get a longer bike ride in.  I only went about 15 miles on my bike yesterday since I got in a little bit late, and I noticed that the trail on which I was riding went much further than where I stopped at.  “If tomorrow is as nice as today, I’ll end up sticking around and seeing how far this trail leads,” I told myself.

Well, last night it got windy, and it rained a little bit.  This morning when I got up, I found that the tarp I had placed over my bike for the night had blown off, and the seat was soaked from the rain. 

Proof I was on the trail...

Plus, the sky was mottled with dark gray clouds.  And it was about 48° out, compared to the 80° of yesterday.  I checked weather.com, which promised it would clear up, and that the sun would break through the clouds in a few hours bringing the temperature up to just shy of 60°.  I then asked weather.com to tell me about Glacier, and it said it would get up to a toasty 43° today with winds up to 39 mph.  Decision made.  I walked over to the office and asked for one more night.  They even gave me the special discount of $15 off again, and I didn’t have to act stupid! I didn’t know it yet, but fate was actually smiling on me when it persuaded me to stick around another day.

By about 11:00am my bike seat had dried up and the air had warmed up to about 55°, just as weather.com had predicted.  Not entirely warm, but not –too- cold either.  I was actually pretty happy about this, because last week I bought some new, warm bike pants so I figured it would give me a chance to try them out (I was willing to test them out at 55°, but not at 43° in the wind!).   I set out again to follow the same Centennial Trail, looking forward to seeing how much farther it went than where I stopped yesterday.  As I rode through CDA, it was a very different scene than last time.  Yesterday with the warm weather, the beach and the park near downtown were bustling with people.  Today, at just before noon and at about 25° cooler, it was practically barren.  It actually made for a nicer ride, though, as I didn’t have to weave my way through the crowds and worry about running down small children, large dogs, or the elderly.   The trail took me about 3 miles farther down than I went yesterday and it ended at Higgins Point State Park.  The point where I got on the trail was about in the middle, so I figured I’d head back and explore in the opposite direction.  I wound my way back alongside the lake, through the downtown area, and around the college and then continued on past my starting point.  It was a nice, smooth paved path, but it started running alongside Highway 90 so it was not very scenic.  It did provide a little bit of a workout though, so it turned out to be worthwhile.  As I hit about 28 miles, I was feeling a little low on energy and was wishing I had something with more calories than just the water in my water bottle.  The gods must have been smiling down on me, because just as I was thinking about more calories I saw a shopping center up ahead with the familiar green Starbucks sign.  Caffeine and sugar would do the trick, so I stopped in and grabbed a large iced caramel coffee with whipped cream.  As I was sitting and sipping, I figured I’d call the San-Suz-Ed RV Park in Glacier, where I was planning on staying, and see if I could work myself a discount before I arrived.  I picked this place to stay because it had very good ratings on Google, TripAdvisor, and Yelp.  Also, they provided breakfast and, according to many reviews, apparently sold delicious pies as well.   After a few rings, a woman answered the phone and I asked her about availability for a few nights starting tomorrow.  Before I could get too far, though, she interrupted me in a very apologetic voice and said that they were working on their plumbing system and that they wouldn’t be open until later in the season.  Drats! 

Veterans Memorial Bridge over Lake CDA

There went my plan for pie!  As I was imbibing myself with caffeine, I Googled a few other places around Glacier and found a KOA near the entrance that had a pool and hot tubs.  I called them and asked about their availability starting tomorrow, and the lady told me that they don’t open for the season until Friday night, May 1.  I asked about the rate, and she said it was $49, but that they had a first-of-the-season promotion where you could buy two nights and stay for three.  That sounded pretty good, but now I had to figure out where I’d stay tomorrow night until the KOA opened.  In my mind, a modified Credence Clearwater Revival song started playing, and I heard “Oh, Lord, stuck in old CDA again…” Then I realized that it probably was a good thing I did not head to Glacier today.  I was just assuming that I would be able to pull into a campsite as I had done at every spot so far this trip.  At least now I had the option to revise my non-plan. I got a refill on my sugary coffee (because refills are free, of course), and spent a while trying to figure out what to do.  I found another campground inside Glacier Park that is currently open—Apgar Campground, but they have no hook ups and no showers. Of course my RV has a little shower in it, but my water heater only holds 6 gallons, which doesn’t make for much of a shower.  I can also be completely self-contained on my batteries, but I’ve become a bit spoiled lately with being able to plug my RV into electricity, which lets me run my oven to roast things for dinner.  Yes, I know—it’s not real camping, but so what.  It’s comfortable.  As I mulled over options and finished my second large bucket of coffee, I could feel my veins start to quiver from the jolt of caffeine.  My energy-depleted state from only about 20 minutes ago was completely gone and I needed to go burn off some of the calories and chemicals that were now whizzing around in my blood.  I got back on my bike and was practically sprinting down the trail.  I headed back past my original starting point and began going back through downtown CDA again.  As I rode past the beach, I noticed a seaplane parked at a dock on the lake, and figured that might be something to do tomorrow and would make it worth staying one more night here.  I steered my bike down a ramp and onto the dock to see if I could find out how much it cost.  There was a thin man with close-set eyes wearing grubby clothes and a faded green hat who was washing the plane.  He looked up at me as I rode up, and stopped his work to come over to where I was.

“Looking to find out about a plane ride?” he asked me, looking almost cross-eyed.

“Yah, I might be here a day longer than I had originally planned, and I was looking for something to do tomorrow,” I told him.

“$60 to go up.  I can take you this afternoon,” he told me.

“Well, I’m not really interested in this afternoon.  I was thinking about tomorrow,” I re-explained to him.

“We’re going up this afternoon at 5:30 if you’d like,” he told me, completely ignoring what I had just said.  I was about to ask him if he worked for the California State Park system as he was reminding me of the fellow who took the calls for Jedidiah Smith Campground a couple weeks ago (read about that here if you missed it).

Uhh...huhhuh..I saw a hairy woodpecker and a nuthatch.

“Umm…no, I really don’t want to go up today.  Is it possible to go up tomorrow?” I reiterated.

“The plane flies any day, but if you want to go today we’re leaving at 5:30. It’s $60,” he handed me a little flier with information about the flight.

“So you’re saying there’s a spot available today?” I asked him, trying to look as serious as possible as I took the little flier.

“Yes there is! Want to go?” he didn’t see the humor.

“Maybe I’ll come back right before then,” I told him.

“Great! See you then!” he turned around and went back to washing the plane.  I really hoped he was not the pilot, because if this was how he acted on the ground, it probably would have made for a real frustrating tour for whomever was going at 5:30 today. 

I got back on my bike and rode up the dock and back to the trail.  As I was riding up the path, a young couple was walking down towards the seaplane.  “They can take you up at 5:30 today,” I shouted to them as I rode by.  They looked at me, confused, not really sure if I was talking to them or talking to myself or perhaps talking on an unseen blue-tooth headset.  I got secret pleasure out of telling them that little inside joke, though.

As I made my way back onto the path, I could feel the second pail of Starbucks kicking in, and I felt like a toy car that had been pulled backwards across the carpet about 15 times, just ready to take off.  I re-traced my route down the Centennial Trail, taking advantage of the lack of people and pedaling with all my might to burn off as much caffeine and sugar as possible.  I kept alert for other things that might jump out and appear interesting to do for the next day, but somewhere along the way decided that I’d go to the Apgar Campground inside of Glacier Park, at least for Thursday night.  If it turned out ok, I could stay there a few more nights, and if not I could go to the KOA with the hot tubs and electricity for their 3-for-2 special.  With that settled in my head, I tried to spend as many calories as possible on the rest of my ride and I ended up with the odometer on my bike turning just past 45 miles by the time I got back to my van.

So in the end, it appears that fate had twice intervened today to steer me in a direction other than I had casually un-planned, and it ended up working out:  the day in CDA turned out nice enough for a long ride, and I also avoided getting to Glacier and frantically trying to figure out where to stay.   And, also, I just noticed that it is well past 5:30, so I suppose fate has kept me out of the seaplane as well.

Being Dumb has its Benefits

No one is dumb who is curious. The people who don't ask questions remain clueless throughout their lives.

Neil deGrasse Tyson

Yesterday I left Sammamish and made my way out to Lake Chelan, Washington.  Before leaving, I stopped for lunch and devoured a giant greasy chicken cheese-steak sandwich, salty fries, and a chocolate malt from a place called “XXX Rootbeer.”  The “XXX” in the name had piqued my interest, but unfortunately it was a bit misleading as there was nothing really “XXX” about it, other than the portions of food that they serve.  Figuring that I’d be back in spinach-and-quinoa mode once I was on the road, it was worth the grotesque amount of calories and fat for lunch.

BeeBe Bridge outside of Lake Chelan

I took highway 2 on my way over to Lake Chelan State Park. It’s a scenic highway that passes through the mountains and past apple orchards.  It even goes past the Applets and Cotlets candy factory.  My grandparents, who lived in Washington, used to always have these candies around their house and would send me home with them every time I visited.  I had considered stopping, but the overload of cheese-steak calories combined with a lack of Starbucks on the way was making my eyelids heavy, so I figured I’d rather get to the lake where I could catch a nap.  (Yes, surprisingly there were no Starbucks along Route 2 through the mountains!) I finally arrived at the park and found a nearly empty campground.  I backed into spot 26, and took a brief walk around to explore before settling in for the night.

This morning I woke to unusually warm air compared to the past several days in Washington.  Weather.com was predicting a literal “heat wave” of approximately 75 degrees with few clouds today and zero chance of rain.  I decided it would be a good opportunity to get out for a quick bike ride before heading off to Court De Alayn… Coere De Elaine …  Cord Dalane Coeur D’alene in Idaho.  Kevin had tuned up my bike while I was visiting him, and he also gave me one of his old bike computers (the one he gave me has only 300 functions, and that apparently was not adequate for his needs any more).  I spent about 30 minutes trying to figure out how to turn it on, and then another 30 minutes 

Lake Chelan reminds me a little of Lake Tahoe

decoding what the buttons do, and finally I was ready to head out for a quick ride.  I had only gone about 10 miles before I realized I didn’t set it up correctly.  It is a pretty fancy one that has a wireless transmitter located near the wheel, and I forgot to synch the transmitter to the computer, so I headed back to the park and went exploring a bit on foot instead.  I walked along the shore of Lake Chelan. The water was incredibly clear and incredibly cold.  I followed a small beach and found First Creek, which feeds into the lake.  It was a narrow creek with fast moving water, and lots of mini waterfalls that caused the water to burble and babble as it washed over them.  I followed a small trail alongside it for a bit before noticing that the sun had started rising a bit higher.  I wanted to make sure I had enough time to stop at a Starbucks on my way to Cuore...Core...Idaho, so I headed back to my campsite to pack up and leave.

The drive from Lake Chelan to the city with the funny name took me through a very diverse landscape in only about four hours.  Whereas western Washington is very mountainous and lush with trees and lots of different kinds of plants, it quickly settles into a vast, flat ocean of grasses and expansive skies that made me think I was in the middle of soy bean fields in rural Minnesota, where my other grandparents lived.  It looked much more midwest than I had expected.  For a while I thought that Google had taken me on the wrong route as it told me to turn onto seemingly deserted streets with generic names like “Road 14 NW,” “Road C NW,” and “Road 15 NW.” 

Stood right in the middle of the highway for this...

The non-descript roads stretched for visible miles in front of and behind me with no cars in sight, and at one point I was able to stop my van in the middle of the highway and get out to take a picture of a lonely building in an apparent ghost town called Mansfield.   Google directed me along Highway 172 to Highway 17, until it finally put me back on Route 2.  When I hit Highway 90 and rolled through well-populated Spokane, I knew I was on the right track. I even managed to find a Starbucks right outside of Fairchild Airfare Base, where I redeemed my points for a free S’mores Frappuccino. 

Eventually I made it to Idaho (I’ve given up on trying to spell the name of the city), and pulled into Blackwell Island RV Park.  I went in to get a spot, and a friendly lady behind the counter noticed my “Stanford Swimming” shirt as I walked in.  “Hi there!  Did you swim at Stanford?” she asked cheerily.

This would have been a great opportunity to tell her a good story, but I stayed honest. “No, I didn’t.  I coach swimming, and I swam for a long time, but not at Stanford.  A friend gave me the shirt.”

“Yah, you gotta be either

You can see my van on the right side there...discounted!

real smart or real rich to go to that school,” she commented.  I wasn’t sure if she was calling me dumb and poor, but she was friendly and smiled, so I don’t think she had intended it as an insult.

“Well, I’m really not either of those, I’m just a guy driving around in a van,”  I told her. 

She laughed.  “Well, we welcome everyone here.  How long are you staying with us?”

“Probably only one night.  How much is it per night?” I asked.

“It’s $55 for a site with full hookups,” she told me.

“Ok.  Are you part of the Passport America program, or any other discount clubs?” I asked, figuring it never hurts to try to get a discount.

“We aren't, but I’ll tell ya what. I’ll upgrade you to a premium spot by the river and I’ll even give you a discount on it since we’re pretty slow this time of year,” she told me.  I guess asking questions when you are dumb and poor has its benefits.

I got setup, and went out for a quick bike ride to explore the area.  Coeure….CDA is a bustling little town right along Lake CDA (while this place is nice, I’m looking forward to leaving so that I won’t have to spell that impossible name again!).  I found a path called the Independence Trail that went around the North Idaho College campus, through the downtown area of CDA, and right alongside the lake.  It was peppered with people roller blading, parents pushing strollers, people jogging and walking dogs, and people just sitting by the side looking at the lake.  It felt like a midsummer afternoon as everyone was out enjoying the fantastic weather. 

Tomorrow I’ll be heading to Glacier National Park.  It’s about a 4-hour drive from CDA.  I haven’t quite picked a spot to stay at yet, but wherever I end up, I think I’ll play dumb and ask questions about discounts.

Obligatory Selfie at First Creek by Lake Chelan

"Sure! That'll be fun!"

The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.

― John Bingham in No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running

I got to try out my new REI shoes yesterday.  In the morning, Kevin suggested we go out for a “little trail run” in Soaring Eagle Regional Park near where he lives in Sammamish, Washington. Just for a bit of background, Kevin does Xterra triathlons.   Xterra is a series of off-road events: open water swimming, trail running, and mountain biking.  On the Xterra website, they describe trail running as “Hop across rocks, soar across streams, zig-zag your way along a mountain trail. Be a kid again and rediscover your super-charged sense of adventure and wonder.”  How could that be bad, right?  Back at home, Jobie and I frequently go for beach runs at Pismo Beach, and I hop and jump along in the sand sometimes.  Running on a trail sounded like it would be kind of a fun change. 

Oh, I forgot to mention, Kevin previously competed in the semi-professional level at Xterra races.

I asked him how far he planned to run for, and his response was, “About an hour.”  Ok, that told me how long we were going to go for.  I’ve run for an hour at the gym on a treadmill multiple times, so it didn’t sound that intimidating.  I re-worded my question to him:  “So how far do you typically run in an hour?” 

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell when you are on the trails.  Maybe 7 or 8 miles?” was his response.

I quickly did the calculation in my head—somewhere between

That looks easy to follow...

7 ½ and 8 ½ minute miles.  Ok, so that’s at the faster end of my capabilities according to the little digital read out on the treadmills.  It shouldn’t be –that- different on a trail, though.  Sure, I was up for it. 

We grabbed water bottles and went out to his car.  We dropped his wife, Joy, off at the gym and headed out to the park.  After a short ten-minute drive, we arrived at a nearly empty parking lot.  Kevin swung his electric-powered Nissan Leaf into a spot and we hopped out.  There was only one other car there with two men standing behind it.  They were putting mountain bikes that were caked in mud onto racks on the back of their red SUV. 

“Looks like its pretty wet out there today!” Kevin shouted to them, grinning.

“What makes you say that?” replied one of the men, whose legs were splattered past his knees with drying mud.

We walked over to the edge of the trail where there was a large sign with a detailed map on it.  It showed a crisscrossing network of trails with little numbers at each intersection and distances along each segment.   “There are signs like this at each intersection.  You can use them along the way to tell where you are at, so you won’t get lost,” Kevin told me.  “There is one main gravel trail that goes through the middle of the park, so you can always follow that back if you need.  We can just plan to meet back here in about an hour,” he told me.  I asked him which route he usually goes, and he replied that he was just going to run around the outside loop a couple of times and then come back through the middle.

“I’ll just follow you then,” I told him, as it didn’t look like that long of a run.

We started off down a trail that was maybe a foot or two wide.  It was slick with mud from all the rain that had been falling the past few days.  I was glad that I had my new waterproof shoes from REI (If you’re reading this, Kassie, thanks for the recommendation!).  Trees, ferns, and lots of green plants lined

This was the closest I could get to him

each side of the dark, wet trail.  As we ran, I cautiously kept my eyes on the path, which was riddled with tree roots, puddles, holes, rocks, and branches.  Up ahead of me, Kevin practically danced down the trail, skipping over obstacles and hopping from side to side as if he were full of helium and had springs on his feet.  I plodded through, trying to plan each step carefully, yet moving quick enough so I didn’t fall behind.  He was going at a lot faster pace than I expected.   As we were running, he kept shouting back conversation over his shoulder at me.  His words came easily and excitedly as he bounded ahead.  I was panting.  I could only respond with grunts or feeble noises as I was trying to keep air going into my lungs rather than being spent on extraneous talking.  This was not at all like the treadmill at the gym.  Just as I was thinking that, Kevin shouted back, “Isn’t this better than being inside on a treadmill?” I could hear the glee in his voice.

“(a few small gasping noises)...Ung-hungh…,” I finally managed to get out.

We came to an intersection with another narrow trail. As Kevin had indicated before we started, it had a sign with a number on it.  He was standing next to it, and I was glad for the pause.  I looked at the distance on the map.  We had gone exactly 0.3 miles.  “Ok, now let’s go this way!” he exclaimed as he darted off down the narrow muddy path. This was a shorter pause than I thought it was going to be.

I started off about ten steps behind him.  Soon it was twenty.  And then thirty. And then more.  I could see his red baseball cap bouncing ahead and twist around occasionally as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.  My pulse was pounding in my ears and my breath was echoing in my head, so I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or not.  I managed to keep up with him for 18 minutes.

“You keep going!” I shouted to him.  “I need to…ummm…need to respond to a text, or take a picture, or something.  I’ll see you at 10:15 at the end!”  I breathed in deeply

My new shoes kept my feet dry!

and exhaled. 

 After a brief rest, I continued down the trail at a bit slower pace.  I “stepped over rocks” and “carefully avoided streams” in my own version of Xterra trail running as I made my way through the park.  The maps indeed make it easy to find my way through the system of small trails.  At one signpost, I glanced at my watch and saw that it was about 10:05—only ten minutes until we agreed to meet back at the end.   The wider, main path was just ahead of me.  I decided I would follow that one back, rather than venture down any more of the windy, muddy trails that would take much longer.  I turned left onto the gravel and started the last half-mile back to the car at a comfortable jog.  After about fifteen seconds, though, I heard a quick patter of footsteps splashing down the little narrow trail I had just come from.  I turned around just in time to see Kevin’s bright red ball cap zing at a right-angle across the gravel.

“Hey, Buddy!” he shouted as he crossed over and darted down the little trail on the other side (the one I avoided thinking it would take too long to get back).   He looked like he was moving even faster than when we had started.

By the time I got to the end, I had gone maybe 5 miles.  I stood at the end of the path at the edge of the parking lot for a few minutes, and Kevin quickly came bounding down the gravel.  He wasn’t even breathing hard. 

“Wasn’t that great?!” he asked me.

“Yes, much better than the treadmill!” I replied. It actually was pretty fun, though, once I slowed down to a not-quite-Xterra speed.  It is much more adventuresome and exciting than simply running down the road or staring at a TV screen while jogging in place at the gym.  And it is something I wouldn’t have tried If Kevin had not suggested it.  Normally I would have said, “That looks pretty muddy—I think I’ll wait until the rain stops.”  I don’t know that I’ll be entering any races anytime soon, though.  I’ll leave that part of it up to Kevin.

Kevin's garage. He thinks he doesn't have enough bikes.