Quiet, cold morning. Saw woodpeckers down by the lake. Had fresh eggs for breakfast. Not many things can best hot eggs on toast eaten beneath towering pines.
Eureka was a very cute town. Nestled at the top of the Tobacco Valley, it was about 1,000 people and had 2 thrift shops, a VFW post, a cafe, and a library, which I went for first. Sign read "no internet till Monday." Darn. Tried the cafe next . Better luck there. Needed wifi, haven't had cell signal for a while, and wasn't expecting any soon.
At this point I was only about 8 miles shy of the Canadian border, and I would be heading southwest from here. Split from Eureka about 10 and rode by Rexford and then to the steep banks of lake Koocanusa. Yet another massive landscape reconstruction project which turned the Kootenai River Valley (which at one point was a highway for the Coer d'Alene indians and fur trappers) into a lake more than 200 feet deep that runs more than 80 miles, along the entire valley and far into Canada. An awe-inspiring sight.
I crossed over a famous bridge to the western side to take the old highway instead of the newer one, and maybe avoid some traffic (not that the was much way out here).
Got a better view from the bridge.
A historical plaque showed an image from before the flood.
Found on the other side of the river a construction site on the road. Loose gravel on the road. Asked the lady in the pilot car how far the gravel went. 3 miles or so, she said. Not good news. I didn't want to go around. This was the only bridge until the dam, 50 miles south. The woman was understanding, and offered to give me a ride to the other side where the pavement started again. Despite my ethics, I accepted. Sometimes, you've just got to the what you can get.
We rode, Breezey in the bed of the truck, through the construction work. Road was pretty intense. Carved into the cliffside, very windy. Woman was from Eureka, but her and her son, Joe, who was working the same job, now lived in Missoula. She called it the "TR road" because it used to be a part of the Theodore Rosevelt National Highway, from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon. Now, with the new highway, it was just an access road to a couple under-used trailheads.
She dropped me and said bye. For the next 20 miles I didn't see a soul. Just road and lake.
Good road for podcasts. Listened to a few. Later on as the road approached Libby and the dam I began to see a person or two. Road worker having his lunch on the guard rail by his truck. Two cars passed the whole time.
Lunch spot was good.
Saw an eagle perched on a dead tree far below. A patchwork of clearcuts visible in the forest far in the distance. Not a boat to be seen. What the hell is this thing for anyway? There's no cross here to irrigate. And Libby's 2,500 people sure doesn't warrant a hydroelectric project of this size...
Decided on a campground by the shore that had a boat launch. Thank the lord for the forest service. These campgrounds are great. Bathrooms, running water and quiet shady places to hide away. Always dependable. Don't mind dropping $10 for something I believe in. Ma met me on the road just before the camp, where I had told her to go. Spent the evening glueing my one pair of shoes back together and doing laundry by hand.
Caught up on the news of the world from a magazine. Step away from it a while and all of a sudden you look back and it's on the verge of collapse. Nothing's very complicated out here. I swear that's why they say they were simpler times, back then.
Thoughtful night, just how I like them.
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