Spokane and Central Washington

A proud driver placing the final sticker to our last of the (lower 48) states west of the Mississippi where we have spent a night in the trailer.

It took a few days to get our road sign pic, but we found one on our bike ride to and from Idaho! And don't you love the state road sign design?

Washington, ho!

Yes, it has been more than three weeks since we’ve been in Washington State, and we are tardy with our updates. However, we’ve found that the presence of reliable wi-fi in the central and left coast parts of the state are as elusive as sightings of Mount Ranier. In this blog, we’ll take you up to our arrival to the west coast and the Seattle area.

Across the mountains to Washington State

On June 14, after 11 days on the road, we snaked our way through Montana’s Bitteroot mountains, through the panhandle of Idaho and through the lake town of Coeur d’Alene, into the state of Washington.

Spokane was our first stop in the state. We knew virtually nothing about this city, other than that it had a minor-league baseball team who wouldn’t be in town while we were there.

So with no expectations, we showed up for a free downtown history walk on Saturday. Our guide was Chet, a nattily dressed “recovered” international lawyer. For 90 minutes he walked our small group along the Spokane River and associated falls around the newly renovated Riverfront Park. We were pleasantly surprised by this city, which was larger than we imagined (500,000+) and shared some history with our hometown. Not unlike San Antonio’s story, in the 60s both cities were facing an identity crisis, and local movers and shakers attracted a World’s Fair. These were fashionable events back in the day and gave the city an excuse to use eminent domain to clear out the undesired neighborhoods standing in the way of progress.

Prior to this effort for the 1974 prize, the city had some nicely landscaped islands by the river designed by noted landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead. But industry also moved in, building water hydraulic power plants and mills on both sides of the river, which were served by multiple rail lines lining the south bank. In other words, it became an industrial mess.

It was a local developer named King Cole who persuaded the railroads to move their tracks (an amazing feat) and wined and dined the selection committee at a restaurant overlooking the falls to choose Spokane over the other candidates.

(Was it the falls like this one that persuaded the fair decision-makers?)

 

This Native American is immortalized by the Spokane Falls, holding a salmon; which is ironic since the dams above these falls inhibited salmon migration and changed the natives' lifestyles.

One of the favorite legacies of the 1974 World's Fair in Spokane was this trash-eating goat.

Spokane didn't build a towering structure to celebrate its world's fair; it just cleared out the railroads around this beautiful 1912 clock tower, which was a tall order in its own right.

After the tour, we walked around the beautiful Centennial Trail (a hike and bike trail which goes all the way into Idaho), visited Gonzaga University, and had a beer in the not-to-be-missed Peacock Room at the Davenport Hotel (according to locals we had talked with.) In that historic room we discovered the local No-Li beer, which we proceeded to visit twice for growler fills of its “Born and Raised” IPA. No-Li is a shortening of the original Northern Lights beer before the brewery was named in a copyright infringement suit. Regardless, it was a nice find!

The next day we ate a Father’s Day breakfast in an old Pullman dining car across street from our RV park before driving to the Washington version of Pullman. This town is not to be confused with the rail car designer’s company town and new NPS site we visited earlier this year in south Chicago. In this case, the “Inland Empire” northwest town proactively named itself Pullman, hoping to get an investment from the designer. The plot failed, but the name remains.

Dave researches the menu in a restored Pullman car on our way to Pullman, WA. He's wearing his Father's Day present.

Our goal was Pullman, home of Washington State University, and nearby Moscow, home of Idaho University. On the way we drove through the lush farmlands of the southeast Palouse region, stopping at Steptoe Butte State Park to take in a 360-degree view of the varying shades of green (dark for wheat and bright green for canola.) At the park we met a local couple. The husband was a “flying farmer” who piloted his own plane. From them, and the young people we met at the top, we learned about the WSU creamery where ice cream and “cougar gold” cheese are sold. WSU, like our state’s Texas A&M, is a land grant university focused on agricultural and engineering studies, and we were obviously in Cougar territory, based on all the hats and shirts we saw. Oddly, we saw few folks sporting Idaho fanwear.

The view of the Palouse agricultural fields from Steptoe Butte was pan-picture worthy.

The Palouse Indians had a town called Palus, from which the region’s name was created. This area features deep, windblown glacial silt called loess piled up over millions of years and is home to rich fertile farmland between Oregon, Idaho and southeast Washington. This region is dubbed the “Pea and Lentil Capital of the World.” We were amazed at the plantings all up and down some steep hills. Farmers have special equipment to navigate this rolling landscape.

After the scenic stop, we checked off another NPS site, visiting the Nez Perce National Historical Park, where we re-visited the government’s handling of this tribe by violating the original 1855 treaty, reducing its lands by 90%, and then stalking and killing a refugee group at the Big Hole battleground we visited in Montana. This site also featured Presbyterian missionary Henry Spalding who came out to the west with his wife in 1836. He apparently was successful in his conversion goals; a church for Nez Perce congregants was built in 1872, and the locals let Spalding and his wife be buried in their tribal cemetery – a different ending than his colleague Whitman west in Walla Walla, as we will learn more about later.

The next day we pedaled a bike trail almost 8 miles to the Idaho University campus, much of which was also designed by Frederick Olmstead. We never found the university’s Vandal mascot but enjoyed the beautiful trees in the “presidential grove” by the historic administration building. While the donated trees were mostly from university leaders, some trees were planted over the last century by political luminaries such as Teddy Roosevelt, William Taft, Eleanor Roosevelt, and a few vice presidents.

On the route into Moscow, we saw a sign for an Appaloosa Museum. A nearby interp panel explained the name was derived from the region’s moniker as locals called the Native American’s mounts “Palouse” horses, and – as is often the case – the name was twisted in English to Appaloosa.

We then backtracked across the wheat fields and up some steep hills to the WSU campus, first stopping at the Grizzly Bear Center to view these mammals, who are unable to survive in the wild and have served as research animals for the school since the 80s. Based on the toys, playground, and fresh salmon meals, they seem well- treated. Aside from our Alaskan stare-down with a male Grizzly on Tex’s 17^th birthday in 2006, this is as close as I hope to get to these beautiful creatures from now on.

We are big chain link fence fans after this visit to the Grizzly Center on the WSU campus.

We ended the warming day at the Ferdinand creamery for ice cream and purchased some Cougar Gold sharp cheddar. We were served almost immediately, beating a large parent’s group by just a few minutes. This is our third college creamery experience, and it held its own against U. of Wisconsin and Missouri.

Just "S'more" goofing off in the WSU bookstore. Stuffed snack toys? Really?

Our last day in Spokane was spent at Manito Park, a city park ranked #1 by Trip Advisor; but as we learned from the Berkley Pit, you can’t always trust the top-rated landmarks on that site.

However, this park had some nice features, and we walked around most of it to take in the rose garden, a formal English garden, a Japanese garden, a conservatory, and some just-new buds in the evolving Dahlia garden. It was a nice end to our Spokane visit.

Dave was looking for a place to sit in Spokane's Manito Park Conservatory.

Dams and “reclamation”

We returned to our North Spokane campground and packed up for the next part of our adventure in the central part of the state. On the way to the town of Bridgeport, we spotted the Columbia River for the first time at the Fort Spokane NPS site (part of Lake Roosevelt National Recreation Area), which is basically another military post from the late 1800s built to protect interloping settlers from the local tribes. In this case, the soldiers fought a few years of boredom before most were reassigned to the Spanish-American War in 1898. The visit was special, however, since it represented my 250^th NPS site.

 

The Fort Spokane ranger was helpful in commemorating Betsy's 250th NPS site.

The Ranger also alerted us to the area called the “Scablands,” which is a wide swath of Washington State affected by advancing and retreating glaciers, and the resulting floods. She suggested a stop at Dry Lakes State Park on the way to our destination. We were still dragging the trailer but took the side trip and were rewarded with an incredible view of the carved-out canyon, which was once the site of the world’s largest waterfall at the end of the Ice Age.

The Washington "Scablands." These dry lake beds once held the largest waterfalls in the world at the end of the Ice Age.

That night we settled into a cozy local marina and park, steps from the Columbia, which was dammed up just a mile upriver by the Chief Joseph Dam, another nod to a leader of a tribe that was adversely affected by these power-generating but salmon-reducing projects. Chief Joseph was the peaceable leader for the Nez Perce; I wonder if he thought this naming was enough to defend the treatment of his people?

 

Our Bridgeport RV site backed up to the wide, dammed-up Columbia River.

Our plan from the town of Bridgeport was to head east to take a tour of Grand Coulee Dam, the largest concrete structure in the world, and the next day to take a boat trip up the 50-mile-long narrow finger lake of Lake Chelan.

Dam the tour guides

The Coulee trip was partially successful, since a staff shortage cancelled the formal tours. But we got some good interp at the visitor center, a spectacular view of the whole complex on the way, and an informative talk with the local (city) park commissioner. 

We didn’t get to take the tour but got a great view of Grand Coulee Dam in the middle of Nowhere, WA.

Commissioner Bob approached us as we ate our lunch at a park next to the local “windmill garden,” and we learned that he had years of NPS experience, including time designing the visitor center at one of our volunteer parks in the Guadalupe Mountains of Texas. Plus, his wife is the current superintendent of Lake Roosevelt NRA!

 

The town of Coulee had to decide what to do with 800 windmills built and then left behind by a deceased citizen, so they created this “garden” at a local park.

A point of discussion between us and Bob was over the name of the dam’s operators, the Bureau of Reclamation. Since that term usually means to re-claim something, how does impeding the flow of a natural river using millions of tons of concrete qualify? We didn’t come to a conclusion, but we agreed the concept of manifest destiny and man’s control over natural resources is definitely an old idea going back to the founding fathers. While these dams are creating necessary low-cost energy, it’s still a difficult term to justify in our minds.  

Lake Chelan and Stahekin

A portal view from our boat trip up the 50-mile-long finger of water known as Lake Chelan. Those are the Cascades in the distance.

The next day it was up early to catch the boat up Lake Chelan. This is the third-deepest lake in the U.S. (behind Crater and Tahoe) and the largest natural lake in this very dammed-up state. We had three hours on land to explore the quaint burg of Stehekin, in between the six spent floating up and down the lake. So we rented bikes, toured the old schoolhouse, gaped at the vertical Rainbow Falls, feasted on Peanut Butter Pie at the pastry shop, and chatted with the local gardener who provides fresh food for the local restaurants before reboarding the boat.

The Rainbow Falls in Stehekin, at the end of Lake Chelan.

We bought freshly picked spinach and green onions from this local gardener, who had his own beehives to help with pollination.

The peanut butter pie made the bike trip worthwhile.

On our drives to the dam and Lake Chelan, we encountered the most non-white populations on the trip; not Asian, Native American or African American, but Hispanic. This side of the Cascades is prime agricultural county. It’s not as rich as the Palouse region, but apparently its access to all the fresh river water for irrigation makes it prime fruit orchard country, and the number of farm workers and signs in Spanish made us almost homesick. We learned that – although Washington is primarily an apple state – there were an abundance of cherry orchards around us. Someone commented on the cost of apple-picking vs. cherry harvest being a reason, but we never really solved that puzzle. Needless to say, stacks of hundreds of cherry boxes and dozens of farm stands stood by, ready for the upcoming harvest.

North Cascades

Our route from Bridgeport to Rockport in the Cascades was a bit gnarly, as we drove the scenic Cascade Loop, a road completed in 1972 to connect the east valley to the west. Its curves and steep grades require it closing in the winter. We ascended 4,900 feet and then descended more than 5,000, which can be an adventure with your brakes when you are pulling a 30-foot trailer. This would be the toughest haul of the trip, and – with a few scenic stops along the way – we made it to the North Cascades National Park visitor center for trip planning.

A nice lunchtime view of Ross Lake in the North Cascades from our trailer.

A fellow visitor took this shot at the busy Lake Diablo viewpoint; the turquoise color of the lake is a result of glacial “rock flour.”

After getting some basic information, we headed to our RV camp, unhitched, and then came back into Newhalen, one of the few towns on a 70-mile stretch of the Cascade Loop. Newhalen is the tiny company town of Seattle City Light, which maintains the multiple hydroelectric dams on the Skagit River, and offers boat tours of the river and evening lights illuminating the vertical Ladder Falls. We walked through an interpretive cedar trail and up to the falls, but unfortunately were too early in the season for the “dam good chicken dinner” boat tour, which was touted by the company cook who we chatted with on our walk. He also taught us how to pronounce Skagit (rhymes with gadget.)

I was excited to drive back home past the Cascadia Farms I saw on our map, hoping for some fresh veggies, or at least fresh berries. Alas, they had sold out, but it did provide some delicious ice cream, capping off a long but fun first day in the area.

The park, which is nicknamed the “American Alps” because of the mountains’ craggy features, was established in 1968 and features the second-most glaciers in the U.S., behind Alaska. But, in terms of visiting NPS sites, it was a conundrum, since Lake Chelan and Ross Lake were both official Recreation Areas in the park, but the actual North Cascades NP laid outside these other units. So we talked with a helpful volunteer at the Visitor Center (which is situated in the Ross Lake NRA) to plan a hike that would take us into North Cascades National Park. The integrity of our NPS list is paramount in these moments.

 

Who knew there were grizzlies at the North Cascade visitor center?

We were able to chart a 23-mile “mine to market” drive to a 7.4-mile round-trip trail that would supposedly take us to a scenic overlook of Cascade Pass. We thought the “mine-to-market” designation was interesting, as most states are crisscrossed with farm-to-market roads, but it was another reminder we were in mineral company.

The gorgeous drive got us up to about 3,400 feet (after starting around sea level) and the mostly uphill hike to Cascade Pass met our high expectations, as we ate our sandwiches taking in a spectacular view east through a valley. Over the centuries, this pass was part of a major trade trail for prospectors and native Americans and prospectors to the tip of Lake Chelan, where Stehekin now exists. A fellow photographer loaned me his wide-angle lens for a great picture, and we chatted with a tattoo artist and his sons (not our typical find in a National Park) before heading back down.

Our 1,600-foot ascent was worth the view down Cascade Pass, which was once a route for Native Americans, prospectors, and fur traders to and from Stahekin on Lake Chelan.

On our trek we heard a variety of sounds, including the whistles of marmots, a low-throated four-beat call (tree frog?), some birds, and thunder-like noises that we learned may be tumbling ice from the glaciers opposite us.

No, it’s not a bear, but a huge Marmot in the North Cascades.

Most of the trail was navigable for my lame legs, but I was grateful for Dave’s big boot prints as we traversed a sideways snow slope over talus. And the whole trip was entirely in the National Park. Yay.

The view from the trailhead featured waterfalls across the valley cascading down thousands of feet.

This interp board mirrors the glaciers on the peak 4,000 feet above it. Those waterfalls are “cascading” thousands of feet down the mountain (thus the name of the park?).

We ended the day at one of the few local diners, drinking a local beer and feasting on hamburgers and fresh blueberry cream pie.

Our base (RV) camp was at Howard Miller Steelhead Park, which was dense with weekend visitors, and apparently hosts a contingent of bald eagles in the winter, where they converge with the migrating salmon making their way up the Skagit. We weren’t as close to the river as we were on the Columbia, but did back up to a view of it.

Our other interesting view was of our young-at-heart neighbors doing yoga outside their Airstream before heading off with their grandson. It was a bit humbling.

My legs weren’t up for the next long hike on our itinerary, so the next day Dave did his peak “thing,” hiking up to a nearby 5,541-foot Sauk Mountain overlooking our RV park. I did some housekeeping, worked on our first blog entry, and hiked some local trails, noting the abundance of blackberry brambles in the area. They will be ready in a month or so.

Enough of this fresh water; Let’s head west to find some salt water!

Our next blog will catch you up to date with visits to several islands, Seattle adventures, and a few days on the Olympic Peninsula.