03 Sept 2012

Sandpoint to Bonners Ferry ID 45 miles (TNV 64 miles)

The first thing I see as I pedal out onto I-95 and glance in my rear view mirror is a truck. A very large truck. A truck of the semi- variety. As I feel the truck bearing down and the fog of my New Zealand PTSD descend, threatening to derail my entire Two Nation Vacation before I have even made it more than 6 miles outside of Sandpoint, I hear a voice bringing me back. It’s Gina, pedaling a few feet in front of me, grinning from ear to ear and yelling “This is GREAT! This is a FANTASTIC road! Look at this SHOULDER!” Apparently riding across the country changes one’s perspective on what constitutes a good road versus a bad road. This road, in spite of the 65 mph truck traffic, apparently constitutes a good one. Funny how two feet of space right of the white line can bring such joy.

After spending the past several miles enjoying the back roads leading north from Sandpoint, we are now out here on the Interstate for the next 10 miles. Besides the blessed shoulder, the good news is that we have a tailwind, helping speed us along our way. The bad news is that our blessed shoulder is now narrowing and there’s an orange construction sign telling us that the next side road we plan to take is closed until the end of the month. We turn off anyway, the nearby Naples General Store beckoning us with the promise of cuteness and a cold drink over which to discuss our options. Do we try to get through on the closed road, which may not be passable by car but perhaps by two touring bikes, or head back to the highway, another 10 miles of noise and narrowness to suffer through?

Thinking a local might be able to shed a bit more light on this “Supposed” Road Closure, as Gina is now calling it, we ask the nice young gal at the General Store counter what these orange signs are all about:

Gina: So how far down the road is this closure?
Counter Girl: Oh, a mile or two.
Gina: So can cars get through?
Counter Girl: Well, I think they might let emergency vehicles through, but there’s maybe a locked gate keeping everyone else out.
Gina: I could take off my panniers and toss them and my bike over a locked gate.
Counter Girl: Oh, but the bridge is all torn up.
Dena: Well how deep is the water?

This conversation continues on just long enough for us to determine that it’s worth a shot investigating this Supposed Road Closure. A few miles down the road equals 4 miles down the road and literally “down” the road, mostly descending and hoping with each foot of lost elevation that we can indeed get through this Supposed Road Closure or it’s going to be a bit of a hoof back up to the highway. Approaching the Supposed Road Closure, we see bulldozers and backhoes and Keep Out signs but what we don’t see is a gaping wide chasm that cannot be crossed nor anyone with a badge to stop us. Hallelujah it’s a holiday we say out loud as we escort ourselves through the construction zone, across the temporary bridge, and back on our way.

Now being our first day on the road and not having ridden with full panniers for over a year, we had opted to leave Sandpoint early, wanting to ensure we had plenty of time for bike adjustments, route-finding, and stopping at anything worthy. Since it turned out the bikes were handling just fine, the Supposed Road Closure posed little challenge, and we weren’t even hungry when we hit the one worthy stop, we found ourselves pedaling up to the door of our B & B in Bonners Ferry at 12:30 in the afternoon, a solid two and a half-hours before check-in, with nary an Inn Keeper in sight. Experience tells us (well Gina, who tells me) that now is the time to either (a) pitch one’s tent and take a long nap, (b) keep peeking in the windows until we rouse someone from the depths to let us in in in now now now, or (c ) do what we do best, which is dink around town and come back later. We pick Option C.

And it’s a good thing we did because the gal who runs the B&B is one of the funniest, most resentful B&B owners I have ever met. She works 360 days out of the year (on the other 5 she is saddled with her children and grandchildren over the holidays), never travels anymore, never wants to fold another towel or sheet in her life, and never wants to cook breakfast ever again. I sure hope this isn’t a problem for us in the morning.