To Steptoe Butte

June 19, 2023

The latest bit of good luck is the timing of our stay last night at Heyburn State Park. The campground is closing for two weeks starting today for renovations. This morning the work crew comes by to size up our campsite. They plan to level up the steep drop into the site. Good idea, it was an adventure getting the loaded bikes down that hill.

We're happy to be in this beautiful park. At the same time, it's a lot of work - building the fire and keeping it going, pitching the tent, setting up the bed, cooking dinner, cleaning everything up and before you know it, it's 10 pm and getting cold. Now we get to pack it all up again.

All this is to say how grateful we are to our WarmShowers hosts. They have saved us from all these chores at the end of a long day on the road and they make lots of things easier, like laundry, access to Wifi, and electricity to charge all our devices. Most importantly, they have all been interesting, kind people to spend time with.

I slept pretty well considering the low of 40F this morning. Barry sleeps like a rock in all conditions. We're getting a late start today thanks to my dithering on the journal, leaving at 11 am.

Starting back down the path to the trail

Bushwhacking around the downed tree again

One more look back at the cool river bridge we rode to Chatcolet CG yesterday

We have seven miles to go on the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes, uphill to the western terminus in Plummer. I've wondered about the meaning of the name and came across a sign yesterday about it. This being our last day on the trail, I better put it down here.

This was the homeland of the Schitsu'umsh tribe that lived amid North Idaho's lakes and mountains. When the French fur trappers offered them trinkets in exchange for valuable pelts, the Indians were not to be fooled and refused to trade. The traders thought they were sharp as an awl - alene in French, and called them the Coeur d'Alenes - heart of an awl.

After asking around about how people pronounce the name here, the consensus is “coor duh laynes.” There now, I can stop pondering that question.

It's a cool this morning, in the 50s as we make our way up the hill through Heyburn State Park. I wish I still had the cold weather tights that I mailed home two weeks ago with a bunch of other stuff.

Signs of the fire here in January of this year

At the west end of the trail we come to a magnificent sculpture of a warrior holding forth a peace pipe. The site memorializes the members of the Coeur d’Alene tribe who served our country, and those who died in the Battle of Steptoe Butte in 1858.

An inscription on the memorial column for the warriors who died in the battle of Steptoe Butte reads: “Truth and equality is what they sought after but could not find in the newcomers to this land…. Their blood still resides on the prairie as a reminder not to take our life for granted.”

From there we set off on our quest to climb Steptoe Butte before dark, hoping the skies clear up by the time we get there. There’s a four mile stretch on U.S. 95 that we try to avoid via a gravel side road, still remembering the trauma of riding U.S. 93 north of Whitefish two weeks ago. The gravel is a slow time suck that takes us back to 95 where the traffic is light and the shoulder is wide. Nothing to worry about here.

Soon enough we exit the highway to turn west, downhill on Lovell Valley Road towards Tekoa, and catch our first looks at the colorful fields of the Palouse - named for the French word for grassland, pelouse.

Back in Washington again. We’ll wiggle south between here and Idaho a few more times this week.

Tekoa is our lunch stop today, at the C&D’s Bar and Grill. There’s a steep hill up into town that we get to do a second time after lunch, going around in a circle due to my lack of study of the map.

The lunch special and the C&D bar and grill was a French dip with house made chips, pretty good. Even better - huckleberry ice cream for dessert.

It’s 3 pm when we get rolling again, with 30 miles to go and one really big hill to climb at the Butte. There’s a chilly headwind blowing at us and I am having more than my usual struggle up the hills. Barry asks if my brake could be on again. Sure enough, the parking brake on my front wheel is engaged. Now I’m noticing a rattly metal sound going down hills sometimes and wonder if that’s the brake still rubbing. Hope I haven’t done any serious damage. I vow to make a habit of checking the brake every time I clip in.

The Palouse region that we’re rolling up and down stretches across approximately 3,000 square miles in southeast Washington and northern Idaho. The land is covered with wind-blown silty loess, a fertile soil created by the glaciers that ground down the rock in the last Ice Age. The bright chartreuse stripes of color appear to be canola plants, the darker green is wheat.

The skies to the south are breaking up. Crossing our fingers that continues until we get to Steptoe Butte.

Even on a cloudy day there are cool shadow patterns over the hills.

Next stop is at the grocery store in Oakesdale. It’s the last anything between here and our Airbnb stay. We find breakfast fixins and a frozen bag of chicken and vegetables with Alfredo sauce that I bury among the blankets in my pannier. On this cool day, it should be fine. From here it’s just seven miles on Hume Road to the park road and we’re picking up the pace.

We found all the essentials in Crosset’s Market, even travel-size toothpaste.

On Hume Road, Steptoe Butte is in our sights, rising above the surrounding hills.

At 6:00 we finally turn onto road to Steptoe Butte State Park. Now, where can we stash the panniers? We don’t have the tree and shrub cover that we had on the road to the Ross Creek Cedars two weeks ago. That wheat field looks pretty thick though. Sure enough, the bags disappear into it.

Not two minutes after we start riding unloaded up the road, a large Sprinter van pulls up and 10 women dressed in red coats jump out, head straight for our bags and start taking pictures. The van turns around like it’s going to make a quick getaway when they get back in. What the heck?

We study them for awhile, then I roll back down to say howdy. It’s a group of women from Vancouver B.C. taking selfies and gushing about the beautiful fields. Are those your bags, one of them asks? I explain that its just our clothes and camping stuff that we stashed while we climb the hill and we’ll pick them up on the way back down. They don’t seem like pannier thieves, as if anyone does, and we exchange good wishes. It’s a relief when the van turns around again and passes us going up the hill.

The skies have cleared a bit more and the cloud shadows are looking beautiful for our visit.

Waving to the red-coated Sprinter van ladies as we start the first of the spiraling revolutions around the Butte.

The map on my Wahoo screen shows the spiraling climb up the Butte

With picture stops it takes me nearly an hour to cover the four miles and 1100 feet of ascent to the top. Barry rides faster but has a cranky chain/derailleur issue that equalizes matters. It’s so worth it when we get there and gaze out at the vast countryside around us.

I wave at the Sprinter van ladies again on the way down, then they pass me one last time. I feel as though we have developed a relationship. Barry loves to ride fast down all hills and I’m relieved to see him waiting for me at the bottom with all the bags.

It’s getting darker and colder now with rain on the horizon. We pound out the 1.5 miles to the Butte Ranch Inn, our Airbnb for tonight. It’s a tiny cottage with a king size bed that wins on location. Our dinner is still partly frozen, quickly zapped in the microwave and devoured. Then its lights out.

Heart

Comment

Link

Today's ride: 53 miles (85 km)
Total: 745 miles (1,199 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	6
Comment on this entry	Comment	2

Rachael AndersonGlad you made it to the top and to your B&B before the rain. When we did it, it started raining when we got to the top so we hid out for awhile but had to head down in the rain but it soon stopped.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Janice BranhamTo Rachael AndersonI remember that story of you two fleeing to the outhouse in the rain, so funny. Thought we might get caught too but we were lucky.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago