Bike, Camp, Raft Trip!

Last August, Greg and I decided to go on a little weekend trip for fun. We borrowed a friend's kid trailer that goes on the bike, and packed it full of camping gear and our two rafts. We drove up to the Couer d'alene trail and found a good spot to park near Snake Pit. The trail used to be train tracks, but since the trains don't use it anymore, they paved the whole thing to make a wonderful car-wide smooth trail that goes for miles through beautiful countryside. We left our car behind and rode our bikes upstream on the trail for about 5 miles to our campsite. We paid a couple bucks to the manager of the campsite, who also served as the bartender. This was about the only business in the little town. Well, the bar and campsite was the town, period.

Our camping area consisted of a large grassy area splattered with sour green apple trees and other unknown bushes. After exploring down at the riverbank, we set to work pitching our tent and getting dinner going. We used our tiny campstove to heat a can of chili, since there was a burn ban and we couldn't have a full-blown campfire. Evening came quickly and brought with it the bugs and eerie sounds of the dark. Of course we forgot the bug spray, so we wrapped up in blankets to hide from the ferocious bloodsucking mosquitos. Just as we finished packing up the food, we heard an unnerving clomping noise somewhere beyond the reach of our campstove's light. We both sat up straight and strained to see into the darkness, hoping to see perhaps a friendly hooved animal like a dear, but afraid of what else it might be. We both shone our dim flashlights at the suspected source of noise, but saw nothing. A flashback of a previous camping trip that went horribly wrong prompted me to quickly put away our things and jump in the tent. As we lay in the darkness, my body would stiffen with every sound outside the tent. I thought I heard another frightening sound, but later realized it was the large American flag oustide flapping in the wind.

The night passed cold and slow, and finally it was morning. We had both been freezing all night. Since the weather had been so warm and we had not thought to bring any warm clothes, so we were very happy to feel the warmth of the rising sun. After cleaning up our raisins and oatmeal breakfast, we packed our things and lugged them all down to the shore. I was uncertain about Greg's plans, but he somehow managed to pack all of our stuff into the tiny raft we used to paddle around in. It is barely big enough for both of us to sit, and only if we hang our arms and legs over the sides, looking like some kind of strange human spider creature. Greg put a rope through everything in the raft and used lots of bungies as well to keep everything strapped down tight. We didn't want to loose anything if it tipped over. To finish it off, he piled our bikes on top of everything, and bungied them down as well. The front tire of his mountain bike dragged through the water a bit, but he thought that would be ok. We hopped in the bigger raft and headed down the river. As we approached a bridge, we heard a lot of whooping and shouting, then saw a skinny teenage boy spring off the bridge and into the water 40 feet below. We passed under the bridge and looked up to see another scared looking boy clinging for his life to the side of the bridge as his fellows hooted and laughed at him. I felt bad, and imagined how he must feel. The guys in the water were all yelling at him to jump. Even from where we were, I could almost see him shaking as he climbed back and forth to jump and then quickly back up to stand on solid ground. He finally let go and fell down to the water landing with a loud and painfully hard "Smack!" We waited to see his head pop back out of the water before we continued down the river.

Some places moved quickly through mini rapids and shallow water, and other places were so slow moving and deep they resembled lakes more than a river. In the slow places I usually would take over the paddles and Greg would hang his body over the back of the raft, using his long diving fins to propel the rafts along. We saw lots of big fish at the bottom, as well as a handful of fisherman on the shore in different places along the river. We had been told the water was unsafe to drink and the fish unfit to eat because of the contamination of metals from the train loads that used to pass by...however, we didn't see any fisherman throwing their fish back into the water. We just got a lot of funny looks as we floated along with our tiny overloaded raft in tow.


Eight long hours later, we reached our destination at the shore of another campsite near the car. Greg unstrapped his bike from the raft and rode off to get the car while I hauled our things from the sandy river up to the field. The sun had gone down and the light just finished fading as we drove away, cold and hungry and sunburned. Two hours of driving brought us to our home in Pullman where we brought the neccesities in, showered, and collapsed into our bed!