Day Five - Republic to Beaver Lodge near the Pend Orielle River.
For the past few days I've been looking forward to catching sight of the mighty Columbia River which I haven't seen since a childhood camping trip taken with dad, mom and a car load of brothers and sisters. After a white-knuckle descent down Sherman Pass on Highway 20 the River came into view and I crossed on a narrow bridge that had me looking back with some anxiety for cars bearing down on me from behind.
To the east of the Columbia is the town of Kettle Falls where I experienced a most unexpected welcome.
On the outskirts of town I stopped at Sandy's Drive In where I had my first (but not last) cheeseburger and vanilla shake of the trip. What would a bike ride across the Country be without deluxe Cheeseburgers to fuel the way? Brianna took my order and after a short time brought lunch with a great smile.
Once in town I looked for a pharmacy in order to buy sunscreen. Having Irish skin I'll be slathering on lots of the stuff over the course of the trip and had used up the last of my limited supply. As I leaned my bike against the store front a woman came up to me and excitedly asked, "Are you the Pedaling Priest?" Surprised, I told her that I was and she replied, "My friend told me about you!" At that moment, her friend Mary who works in the pharmacy came out of the store and greeted me as though we'd been friends for years.
Passing through the town of Colville, I took a wrong turn and before I knew it was heading south instead of east. Pulling out my handy dandy electronic map, I figured out a shortcut back to the intended route. Like many such "shortcuts," this one quickly went astray and led me into some beautiful but very hilly farm country and miles out of my way. Highway 20 eventually came into sight after stopping to take a picture of this dilapidated barn that's seen better days.
Stopped to have a snack at Crystal Falls shortly before reaching the Beaver Lodge where I spent the night.
For the past few days I've been looking forward to catching sight of the mighty Columbia River which I haven't seen since a childhood camping trip taken with dad, mom and a car load of brothers and sisters. After a white-knuckle descent down Sherman Pass on Highway 20 the River came into view and I crossed on a narrow bridge that had me looking back with some anxiety for cars bearing down on me from behind.