In the Saddle

When we lived in Kansas I rode my bike constantly, mostly because there wasn't a lot else to do (other than garden). My Sunday tradition was an epic bike ride of dirt roads and lots of farmland.

Since moving to north Idaho I've done less cycling, probably for two reasons. First, there aren't a lot of paved roads in my county, and I'm not willing to navigate the area's substantial hills on my brother's old department store "mountain" bike. Second, there are so many other things to do: hiking, kayaking, skiing. But somehow in the last couple of days I've spent a lot of time on my bike. My brother Nathan showed up in Spokane and Friday we took the Centennial Trail to Post Falls, where there is an excellent swimming hole beneath the dam. Today I made my first international bike tour: a 36-mile round trip from Copeland, Idaho to Creston, BC. Copeland is about 20 miles north of my house, so I drove there, parked at an elementary school, then road on State Highway 1 up to the border. I received very little harassment from the border patrol, which was unusual (note to self: if I ever need to bring anything suspicious across the border, do it on a bicycle). The road surface on the Canada side isn't quite as smooth as Idaho's, but it's only about 6 miles from the border to Creston.

The nice thing about Creston is that it still has a lively downtown area, and on Sunday most things are open. Turns out the town has quite an international flavor as well, which I learned when I made a pit stop at Black Bear Books to enoy a peach soda. The man sitting next to me had three cell phones sitting on a nearby table. One rang: he spoke in German, giving what sounding like a phone number. A minute later, another phone rings, this time the conversation is in Spanish. He explains to the caller that he's on his way to Calgary and has stopped in Creston. Then his grandson walks up and the man reads him a book in English. Minutes later I leave the book shop and outside on the street two teenagers are conversing in French. I had to remind myself where I was for a second... this is Creston, right?

Below are some pictures I took near the border crossing at Porthill. The day was a bit hazy but the fields are full of some plant (not sure what) that smells great, kind of like lavendar fields.

Add comment August 5th, 2007