Thoughts on canvassing (Last edited October 26, 2008)

I did a little canvassing (a.k.a., doorbelling) in previous elections. I did more in the 2004 and 2006 elections, and even more this election year.

Why I do this work:

I like meeting our neighbors. Canvassing is an excuse to knock on people's doors and say hello. I prefer to canvass my precinct or the adjacent ones, so I can say, "I'm your neighbor" when I introduce myself. Some people I guess like to meet their neighbors too, and I'm invited in, or our conversations are relatively long on the doorstep, driveway, or street.

I'm genuinely interested in what people have to say. While I don't like hostility, I don't mind disagreement. I realize that my higher calling while canvassing can be simply this: to listen. Example: some white guy, in his late 50s, starts off yesterday by telling me he doesn’t want to talk politics with anyone. I’m cheerful and say that’s fine, and start to mark down “refused” on the walk sheet, and then he proceeds to talk politics with me for maybe the next twenty minutes. I give a few prompts, like, “what issues concern you the most in this election?” However, it’s mostly me saying things like, “uh huh”, or “I hear you” or “I can see why you feel that way”. Maybe only once or twice did I offer some sort of thoughts of my own on why My Candidates would be better on his concerns.

I think there’s a lot of folks who feel that their voices aren’t heard; guys like this one who feel cynical, or disempowered in the existing system. With my badge and clipboard, I appear to be a representative of officialdom, even if all I am is a neighbor from a house a few blocks away. One of things I hope I do bring is greater empowerment to the people I meet, in the form of voter registration forms and information.

The information people seek, though, is rarely in the form of the glossy campaign "lit" that I carry with me. Often it's practical - how to I get an absentee ballot? Do we have early voting in this state, and how can I do that? Where's my polling location? What's a good website to check on the claims of the campaigns? Where can I get a yard sign? One of the most useful things I have is not glossy - a simple door-hanger that gives down-ticket endorsements of initiatives and judicial races. Most people know of and have formed opinions about the presidential race. Who knows who is a good candidate for state appellate court judge?

My guess is that, by the end of this election, I will have been to over a thousand people's doorsteps, and actually talked to hundreds. Based on this experience, I will offer advice to those considering canvassing in these last few days before the election:

Creature comforts:

• Wear comfortable, sturdy shoes.
• Dress in layers - dress to keep warm, but you may warm up walking and you may need to shed one
• Wear a hat to keep your head dry, your body warm, or keep the sun out of your eyes
• Carry a water bottle and an energy bar.
• Use the bathroom before you go.
• Plan for a lunch break

Take with you:

• A clipboard - the field office can provide you with one if you don't have one.
• Pens - at least two, because you'll misplace at least one and one is likely to run out.
• Campaign lit (provided by the campaign)
• Walk sheet and map (provided by the campaign)
• Cell phone
• Voter registration forms, unless registration has already closed in the state for the election
• Field office phone number and address, so you can refer potential volunteers directly
• A large canvass shoulder bag that can hold the above items. A backpack leaves your hands free, but you have to take it off on a continual basis to get at the contents. You can just reach into shoulder bag while it's on.

If it's raining, add:

• As water proof a jacket as you own
• A broad-brimmed rain shedding hat. You won't have the ability to juggle an umbrella with everything else
• A clear plastic bag to have over your clipboard and walksheets. You need to write on the walksheets with the clear plastic OVER the sheet and your hand in the bag.
• Ballpoint pens only. Do not use a pen with ink that runs.
• A gallon-sized ziplock for your walksheets. They probably will get semi-shredded anyway, but you'll do what you can.

Strategies:

Study your walksheet and map and plan your walking route. If you're driving to the location, figure out where you want to park. I don't care what order you get your walksheet in, it's never the right one for you. Some people like to do all the odds on a street, then walk back and do all the evens. Other people like to criss-cross the street. It's better to plan your route before you hit the street, then to constantly be juggling walksheets and the map and trying to figure out where you're going next.

I figure 10 - 12 doorsteps per hour in our area. I don't know if that's fast or slow. It takes longer where the lots are bigger, quicker in apartments where you don't have to go as far between doors. Even when no one's home, it takes time to knock, wait, cram lit into door jamb, mark your walksheet, and find your next door.

Get a walking list for as close to your home as possible. You want your precinct, adjacent precincts, or at least, general neighborhood. Describe yourself as a neighbor in your introduction.

Know the purpose of the canvass. Are you finding unregistered voters? Convincing undecideds? Getting out the vote for supporters?

Read the script, get a feel for it, then don't use it. It's bad enough on the phone when people telephone with a "canned" feel to their voice. It's death on the doorstep. You should know the purpose of your call, and then put everything in your own words. If you have personal reasons for supporting the candidate, use them.

Knock. Even in nice neighborhoods, half the time the doorbell doesn't work. Knock hard but just a couple of raps. Don't knock again unless you have evidence that there's someone in the house but there's no movement (like, you can hear the TV in the house, but you can't hear anyone getting up and walking to the door).

Ask for the person by name that you are supposed to be reaching. I've learned this the hard way, especially in this campaign, where there is often a generation gap between the older, ossified Republican parents and the young Democrat living at home with them.

Be cheerful and friendly. When people turn you away because they don't want to discuss politics with strangers or they're busy or they consider their vote private or whatever, say you understand completely, thank them, and leave. If people are nutcases ("the only government I believe in is the one headed by Christ the King"), thank them for their time and leave. If people are hostile - very rare - do not return hostility with hostility. Thank them as you are backing (running?) away, and leave.

Listen. As I said at the first of this long post, I think listening is sometimes the most important thing you can do as a canvasser. This is especially important when dealing with undecideds. Find out what their concern is. Do they fear Obama's inexperienced? Are they upset about their retirement fund in the tank? Maybe professional doorbellers think that all this listening time is time wasted, but I'm not being paid by the hour, and the extra time spent is part of what I think the job is about. One time I spent half an hour on a woman's doorstep, an "undecided" when I arrived. I did little more than active listening, with an occasional fact or position thrown in, and by the end of the conversation, she had convinced herself that Obama was her man.

Offer information as appropriate. If you don't know the resource, the facts or the candidate's position on something, say so, and say you'll get back with the right answer. Mark it on your walk sheet. When you're giving personal opinion, state that it's personal opinion. Don't argue unless you have the facts behind you and you can substantiate them AND you think that you won't be perceived as angry or unpleasant.

Turn in your paperwork as soon as you're done. With the election just days away, your field office needs to input the information immediately. Again, I know this through hard experience! It's too easy to procrastinate. Just return your walksheets and any leftover lit that day.

This is the end of my thoughts on canvassing. I welcome your comments - especially if you have done canvassing yourself.

The end of Facebook Notes

 I am sad to find out that Facebook is discontinuing Notes. I will be transferring all my old Notes to Blogger. 

Dear Friends,

I have been a participant on 43things.com for about eight years. That site is going belly-up, and I have been casting about, looking for a place to post my thoughts and reflections. Further, Facebook is just too public for me right now, and I've gone as far as to discontinue my Facebook page for now.

I started this simple blog a few years back, and posted things here when I had no other appropriate place. I plan to revive this blog to fill some of the purposes for which I used 43things, and also get some more personal things off of Facebook, and put them here.

So, the content you'll find here will be some new, and some old. If it's old, I'll put a date of original publication, just so we both know how far back that writing went.

Thank you for reading my posts.

Federation Forest to White River Campground, and back

Wednesday was the only day that it was supposed to be nice at Mt. Rainier this week, so Wednesday was the day I was going to do the ride.

I woke up early, and left the house early. It’s a good ninety minutes to drive to Federation Forest. Clouds hung low, dark and grey, and I wondered if I should have checked the forecast one last time. While it wasn’t raining, rainwater from the previous wet days fell off the trees in both light sprinkles and in heavy blops on my windshield.

I had been doing a lot of thinking while driving, and I didn’t feel much like cycling at all. I thought about driving all the way to Yakima, just to drive some place. I didn’t. Instead, I pulled into the Federation Forest parking lot and got out of the car.

It was cold. I put on my thermafleece tights, and my fleece jacket, and yanked the bike out of the back of the car. I didn’t feel like riding, but here I was.

The highway mostly parallels the White River. The river’s milky-green hue comes from its source, the glaciers melting on Mt. Rainier. I was riding along through a tunnel of large, old-growth trees, and then I would come out the river, and then back into the old-growth trees. The forest is mossy and damp.

It’s uphill, but I only notice that it’s uphill because I’m not going that fast. I have it in the middle ring in the front, and the middle of the cassette in the back. Motor vehicle traffic is very light.

Pedal and breathe. Pedal and breathe. My brain begins to let go.

After about ten miles and an hour of riding, I pulled off the road to look at a waterfall on the other side of the river. (Photo) Clouds and mist roiled on and over the hillsides.

Back on the bike. Pedal and breathe.

Another five miles, and I arrived at a construction zone. It’s summer, the road is open, so they’ve doing repairs all along the way, but this one is serious. After I rode to the front to chat with the flagger, I learned that I would not be allowed to ride the mile through this section, but would need to be carried by the pilot car. I ate some stale choc-blocks, and drank water. While riding in the pilot car, I noticed some patches of blue.

After being deposited by the pilot car on the other side of the construction, more clouds moved away, more blue was revealed. More uphill. Pedal and breathe. My brain moves to a broader perspective. Pedal and breathe.

It was now very sunny, dappling through the boughs of the trees. (Photo) I stopped off at a ranger station, got a map, asked if the road to Sunrise was opened for cyclists. I was told yes, and one ranger enthusiastically described a recent ride.

I got back on the bike, and the road steepened. I shed my jacket. I put the chain in the little cog. It took a long time to pass each mile post.

I was both surprised and relieved to see the sign that said the road to Sunrise was in a half mile.

I made the turn, and it was down, down, down. I was glad to be coasting, because the climb up had put my stomach tank on empty. It now smelled of the high mountains – silver fir, yellow cedar, and mountain hemlock, warmed in the sun. At the gate, I chatted with the ranger. He said that I could ride the five miles to the White River Campground, but the road to Sunrise was closed to cyclists that day due to the heavy equipment that was still clearing snow. If I wanted to go up to Sunrise, I’d have to wait until very late in the afternoon, after the crew was done. I decided that I would not do that, but just go to the campground.

I knew at this point I needed to eat lunch, but I thought I’d ride until I got to either the campground, or a view. I crossed a couple of rivers, and thought about sitting on their banks, but decided to push on. At one point, I dismounted to look at the White River, to see if there was a way down so I could eat lunch. When I couldn’t find one, I couldn’t bring myself to get back on the bike, and walked it slowly up the hill, and said to myself, “You’re bonking. You need to stop and eat.” At the very next clearing, I set my bike down, took off my helmet and gloves, and pulled lunch out of the trunk. I climbed down the side of the road to the river.

I could see a glacier, but not the whole mountain from my lunch spot. (Photo) It didn’t matter. I ate my pasta salad. I ate my cherries. I drank most of my bottle of electrolyte. I settled on the river rocks, padded with my fleece jacket, and listened to the river. Wisps of clouds floated by in the brilliant blue sky.

It was time to go. I clambered back up the hillside to the bike, and started off. Food helped. I felt much better. I continued climbing. The glaciated peak of Mount Rainier came into view. Soon I was at the campground. Officially, it was closed, but it’s scheduled to open this weekend, and the vault toilet was open and I could refill my water bottle at the tap.

I didn’t realize how steep the climb had been. I zipped down through the forest, over one river, then the next, and the next. In a blink, I was back at the Park gate, and then climbing back up to the main highway.

Then it was a simple coast down, unable to pedal because I was moving so fast.

I was the first in line at the construction zone, so I knew it would be a while. I asked the flagger if I could lean the bike against his car. He was fine with that. I took off my tights. I sat on the asphalt, and finished the electrolyte, then ate a mojo bar and drank another bottle of water. The pilot car came, and dropped me and the bike again on the other side of the zone.

I saw the first cyclists for the day, then. Two tourists, fully loaded, cheerfully pedaling along up the road as I was coming down, probably going to one of the campgrounds along the way.

As I got closer to the car, I reflected on the ride. I planned to go, but I had been reluctant. I almost didn’t stop driving. My head had been swirling small and jittery thoughts. I was so cold when I got the bike out of the car, and the weather was so gloomy.

But as I rode, I warmed up. The clouds dissipated and the sun came out. Now, while I was tired, I was calmed. My thoughts had come from a higher perspective. The ride had worked its magic. Once again, the bike had come to heal and connect. My lovely bike – such a resource. What would I do without it?

I threw the bike back into the back of the car. I stopped at the Black Diamond Bakery on the way home and got a fresh cookie and a tea to go. I took the backroads home – never quite sure if that’s faster than the freeway, but it’s certainly less stressful. I was home by 4:30.

Map of the route: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=6342517

Flying Wheels 2012

Summary
103 total miles, with short-cuts and riding to the ride and riding home again
Start line at 7:59 AM
Finish line at 5:04 PM
Solo ride: no tandem, I did not ride in a paceline or draft anyone
Weather: Grey and threatening, never actually rained while I was riding but the pavement was damp in places. Temps mostly in the 50s

Narrative
Started off by frying up breakfast for me and friend Geoff Hazel. When I realized that it was actually raining, I did a quick switch of my planned outer wear, and put on a light wool v neck sweater plus my rain jacket. With this running around and general conversation, we finally pushed off around 7:30.

We waved to various people at the start line, and took off right around 8:00. Geoff kindly rode with me until Inglewood Hill, then took off and I never saw him again. (He ended up completing the hundred in 6 hours, 17 minutes.) I do Inglewood as a part of my commute, so while it's not an easy sprint, it's also not a problem. On the way off the back of the Plateau, saw a rider in the ditch, being attended to by a Ride Ref and a few others. When the pavement is wet, I've seen riders who have crashed on that hill. It's steep and windy, and it's shaded so the pavement is often damp and slippery.

I notice I come out a lot earlier to make left turns compared to many riders, and once again I did so, this time to take the left on Ames Lake Road. I really enjoy this segment. It's green: Big Leaf maples and Doug firs, lots of ferns and moss as you ride up the cleft. Then it was whee! down into the Snoqualmie River valley. I geared down just fine for the hairpin start of Stillwater Hill (always some chaos right there as not every rider has), and ground up to the top. I passed by some South Asian guy in a blue jacket, and I guess the sight of this auntie blowing past him caused him to take off. "You gave me motivation!" he yelled as he passed me later. I passed him later, on Cherry Valley Road, and once again, getting passed by a middle aged woman caused him to push himself harder. I joked as he went by that he must be one of those competitive Microsoft types - something he didn't deny.

Duvall was my first stop. It was crowded. I sat in a chair (because I know how to live) enjoying grapes, oranges, and a banana. I got a little chilled sitting there, and put my sweater and jacket back after stuffing a spare packet of fig newtons into my back pocket.

Then it was a scant mile to the decision point - 65 miles or 100? Well, I had well mentally committed to the 100, so the decision was easy - off to the right!

In previous years, I have seen cyclists making the return from the northerly loop at this point, and it's always a bit discouraging to see so many about 30 or so miles ahead of you on the century. This year I saw fewer - just a few clumps - so I felt like I was not that far behind on doing the century at that point. High Bridge road is labelled as a hill, but the climb was easy. On the downslope, we were cautioned to take it slowly, as there was a rider down. Sure enough, the lane was completely closed off and there was a guy in the middle of it whose head was covered in blood. I muttered a little "there by the grace of God" type prayer of protection for myself and everyone.

The two aftermaths of accidents that I saw were on downhills, and I think this is no coincidence. Speeds are higher. People are maybe trying to keep up with a paceline for their century ride, and so are temped to ride faster than they are really comfortable handling. A little dampness (back of the Plateau) or gravel (off High Bridge) and people go down. I have a scar on my knee from a similar situation, so I know how this can go.

Anyway, a few miles past this, I decided to take a break at a park a few miles before Snohomish. I ate a luna bar, a banana, and that pack of fig newtons, and drank a bottle of water.

Since I took that break, I saw no reason to actually stop in Snohomish. I was very happy to roll into the Monroe rest stop a half an hour or so later.

In the food line there, I felt like I should have something more substantial than bars and fruit. It didn't feel appealing, but I made myself a pbj. I also grabbed a bag of animal crackers. I drank some electrolyte drink with the pbj, and then ate the animal crackers.

Coming back on this segment, returning to the rejoining of the ride with the 65 mile loop, I started feeling really icky.

----TMI ALERT - do not read the next paragraph if you are squeamish---

I regurgitated up peanut buttery something twice on the bike. The first time I managed to spew it off to the left, but the second time it hit me so fast it hit the top tube instead. On the third wave, I stopped the bike. I heaved into the grass. I regret to say that I also lost a little bladder control with the force of my hurling, and pee ran down my leg, too. I felt pretty crappy all the way around. I was weakened by the upchucking, my shorts which never pristine on a century were now really gross, and my stomach was still churning. I got back on the bike. I rode about a mile longer, then did another upchuck of peanut butteriness into the shrubbery, a repeat of the previous incident. I rode some more, and then I took a little detour from the route. It's not even a quarter of a mile shorter, but it just felt like I wanted it. It was a good choice - it felt warmer, I was out of the wind and the traffic, and it was quieter and more peaceful. I felt comforted. I did a final regurgitation, though, on this road, before returning to the regular route.

----TMI alert over---

As I rode past Carnation Farms, I briefly toyed with giving up on the ride, but I thought that at this point maybe I had gotten nearly everything up that had distressed me. I stopped at a park, and while waiting in line to use its lovely sanitary facility, I drank another bottle of water. This seemed ambrosial at the time, probably because I had lost so much on the previous segment of the ride.

At the Carnation rest stop, I refilled that water bottle. I decided I would put nothing else into my stomach except that which was completely digestible and trustworthy. I drank a bottle of water with a brand-new clif shot, and refilled it again.

I rode through the really nice segment -no traffic, flat, and this time, no wind - that goes through Jubilee Farms with a tall young fellow on a Mendocino. We didn't say much, just had some companionable riding along.

Since I had the clif shot in Carnation, I didn't see any reason to have the traditional sports gel before climbing the Fall City-Issaquah road. Doing that climb was pretty tough this time out. It's at about mile 80, and it's a long set of stair steps. The guy on the Mendocino left me. I think I was still weak from my previous digestive difficulties. I hated to think that I couldn't manage it solo, though. I've done several effortless climbs up that road with David on the tandem, recently. So I just worked it, dropping into the granny on the risers, and sure enough, I made it to the false summit. Then I rode up to the final summit, and came out feeling like, OK, I'm actually going to complete this ride.

I got a second wind. At the final rest stop, I used the blue room and then thought, you know, maybe I should check the tire inflation. Turns out they were at 60 lbs. (I can feel my husband's eyes rolling from here.) I put them up to 85 and I got back on the bike. I showed fellow rider Mike Kelly the "short cut" on the Plateau. For the first time in a long while I was feeling strong. We dropped back down on to the regular route. The guy on the Mendocino happened along, and was startled to see me. "Didn't you stop at the rest stop?" he asked. I told him I barely stopped at it, but more importantly, I took a short cut on the Plateau, and that's how I got ahead of him.

It was easy easy easy at this point to make it to the finish line. I saw Leo at a distance in the beer garden. He said I looked like someone who could use a beer and a sit-down. He might have been right, but I didn't want to linger, as I was afraid if I did so, I'd never make it home.

So I said goodbye, and headed home. I took Multi-Deity Hill for the way back, but I confess, I walked the bike up its steepest part. It wasn't my intention, but somehow I found myself in the shower within a few minutes of stepping in the door. It felt great to be clean and home at last.

Thoughts on Christmas

There's at least two holidays in our culture going on under the one name of Christmas. There's a winter festival that is symbolized by evergreens, holly, and mistletoe; by our culture's embodiment of generosity in Santa Claus, and related presents; and by wintertime snow and sleighs. There's also a Christian holy day, celebrating the birth of Christ, which, for various historic propagandistic reasons, occurs on the same day.

Christmas, as winter festival, and to a lesser extent, Christian holy day, is a pervasive holiday in our culture. Capitalism has a lot vested in the "presents" aspect of the festival, so it gets remorselessly promoted.

Most Christians don't have any difficulties with this promotion. Yes, sometimes you hear from time to time, phrases like, "He's the Reason for the Season" or "Put the Christ back in Christmas", which decries the materialistic aspects of the holiday. But generally it does them no harm to have their holy day in everyone's faces. It reinforces their viewpoint of themselves as the majority religion, and it underscores their smug superiority.

People who are not practicing Christians but who come from a Christian background still usually have no major problem with Christmas, as they can fully participate in the winter festival and skip the holy day aspects of the holiday.

People from flexible religions like Hinduism or Buddhism have some difficulties, but not major ones. Buddhism has adapted itself repeatedly to local deities and festivals. If Bodhi Day, the celebration of the Buddha's enlightenment, which usually observed on December 8 gets moved out a little to December 25 - what harm is there in that? You can even string lights on your house to symbolize the Buddha's enlightenment, no problem. The local Vedic center has Santa Claus come and greet the children. NBFD for these folks.

Jews are in a different situation. Their 2000-year history of being a minority religion has caused the Jewish tradition to be very strict in non-participation in the majority culture's religious festivals. Because of our own culture's confusion between the winter festival and the Christian holy day, most Jews feel that even the winter festival portion of the holiday is off-limits. They will say that "Santa Claus" is a Christian saint, for example, and therefore something Jews can have absolutely nothing to do with. And to some extent they are right - at one time, Santa Claus was a Christian saint, who had a saint-day some time near solstice, and somehow he got mixed up in the big winter festival. These same Jews will point to the Christmas tree, and say, look, it's a *Christmas* tree, for heaven's sake, the word "Christ" is in it, there's no way it can not be a Christian symbol - or, if you point out that it was originally pagan, well, why should it being pagan make it any more off-limits to them as Jews than if it were Christian? So, most Jews feel that they can't participate in any aspect of Christmas.

But the winter festival aspect of Christmas is tremendously appealing. Christmas trees are beautiful. Christmas lights are beautiful. Christmas parties are fun. Getting presents is fun. Sharing in a generous spirit is fun.

Many Jews then respond to Christmas with deep resentment. Many Jews hate, hate, hate Christmas with a passion that I think can only be explained by the fact that they feel like everyone else is having fun when they can't. The Christmas tree can be a lightning rod for this resentment, I think precisely because it is so appealing. I know a Jewish man with a Chinese wife, who, considering all the other cross-cultural issues he could have had at their marriage, made only one requirement -- that they would never have a Christmas tree.

One Jewish response in North America to the pervasiveness and appeal of Christmas is to take what was once a minor wintertime festival, Chanukah, and pump it up. I personally think this is a mistake. Why?

A. Chanukah, because it is a minor festival, can never be as big and wonderful as Christmas. It is always destined to be a junior Christmas. It will never be as fabulous as what everyone else gets to do, and therefore will just make the larger culture's festival seem that much more appealing, and the situation Jews are in feel worse.

B. Having Chanukah around means that Christians can give it a little lip service, and then do their own holiday in a Big Way with a clear conscience. This is the extremely annoying practice of having 15 Christmas carols at the concert, and a little sop to the Jews with "I had a little dreydel." "Why should you complain, huh? You *get* a damn Chanukah song, so shut up."

Me, I think Jews should revel Jewish festivals, like Passover and Sukkot, and not engage in an unfair competition. What our household will do: we'll light some candles on the Chanukiah, sure, I'll make some latkes, sure - but I don't want Chanukah to substitute for Christmas.

I carry a lot of ambivalences about Christmas. I feel I've also taught many of these ambivalences, for better or worse, to my children. I hate the smug triumphalism of it, but I like the honoring of the evergreen, the marking of the darkest days of the year, and the celebration of the spirit of generosity. That's why I participate in it as a winter festival. I like Santa Claus. I like Christmas trees. I like "Jingle Bells". I'm OK with all of that.

So merry Christmas, and happy Yule, and (c)happy Chanukah, and happy Boddhi Day, too, for those who are celebrating. Happy (winter festival) too, to everyone.

Our Bicycle Tour of NW Washington/Idaho Panhandle

SUMMARY
David and I rode our tandem about 240 miles in the northwest corner of the state and the Idaho panhandle. This was our first extensive self-supported tour, and the first one on the tandem. We carried a credit card instead of camping equipment, staying in motels and eating out of restaurants and convenience stores, which meant this was "loaded" touring, but not "fully-loaded" touring.

Generally, the weather was sunny but not unbearably hot (upper 80s to 90s), and we were either riding through pine forests or farm and ranch lands. Our trip was dominated by two waterways - the Spokane and Pend Oreille Rivers, providing shade, scenery, and swimming opportunities. We saw easily a couple dozen osprey, many other birds of prey, herons and other water birds, numerous chipmunks and ground squirrels, deer - but no bears or cougars, despite a few warnings.

We had no bad encounters with cars. People were uniformly friendly, and helpful when we asked for directions. We got lots of "tandem smiles" - the look you get from folks when they see you having a good time on your tandem bike.

While we occasionally ran a little low on water - defined for us as having less than about 12 oz. of water a piece - we always found places to refill our bottles. We always had plenty of snacks and food on the bike - really, too much, as we hardly ate anything we were carrying except for a few goos and bars.

I planned out the route, mostly using on-line maps, and scouted out markets, restaurants, accommodations, and road conditions where I could. I got some help from on-line friends from the tandem bike list. I made cue sheets and some maps - next time, I'll make more, as we sometimes got lost and sometimes the roads were dirt - but you'll have to read the details to find out more.

DAY ZERO
We loaded up the car with luggage, the bike, Emma, and all of Emma’s things for camp. We dropped Emma off at Fishermen’s Terminal so she could catch the boat for camp, and lit out for Spokane.

We got to Spokane in the afternoon. We checked into the Montvale, my favorite Spokane hotel, and changed into our bikie gear. We left most of our stuff at the hotel, and then drove out to Veradale. An old co-worker of mine now lives out in the Spokane Valley, and we dropped the car in his suburban cul-de-sac.

While we took a quiet street most of the way to the Centennial Trail, we still had to do a little bit on a busy suburban arterial. We also did a little bit of thrashing around, trying to figure out how to get from that arterial to the trail, which we could see running below us.

The trail itself is nice, but occasionally fades away in various neighborhoods and is poorly signed, causing us to lose our way. Still, we managed the 14 or so miles back into town.

Building temperature sign: 98 degrees that afternoon.

We then showered, ate a pleasant dinner at the Steam Plant, and packed up for the next day.

Total estimated distance on the bike: 12 miles

DAY ONE
We woke up at 5:45 AM and raided the hotel continental breakfast buffet for later consumption. With everything loaded up, we then pedaled over to Frank’s, a diner in an old railway car for a more substantive meal. We then backtracked to downtown, and entered the Centennial Trail again.

After we left the urban section, the trail became quite scenic, winding through river valley. It emptied into Riverside State Park, and here I made my first major navigation error of the ride, sending our team up Trails Road for 2 miles and 400’ of elevation gain. We inquired from a motorist as to how to get to Seven Mile Road, and her route would have taken us off road through an ORV park, so we backtracked (whee! down the hill) and rode further through the park until we intersected with the proper road.

We came up through a cleft in the basalt cliffs to a plateau. We stopped under some trees at the edge of a farmer’s field and ate our “continental breakfast” packed from the hotel, at about mile 20. However, the climbs we had done had drained much of our water, and we started to look for opportunities to refill them. We stopped at the Four Mounds fire station, and although the place was closed up, the spigot on the side of the building was not, and we filled up there.

We came off the plateau in a series of downhill runs. David said that it would be nice if there were a picnic area at the Spokane River. On a hunch, I had us take a side road towards the dam, which led, miraculously enough, to a shady picnic table in green grass overlooking the river, at about mile 35. We ate sandwiches and bananas that we had packed, then changed into our swimsuits. We swam and frolicked in the river, and refreshed, returned to the bike.

It’s good we had that break, because the climb out was long, hot, and with a headwind. By the time we had come out of the valley, our water bottles were again running low. I didn’t spot it on google in my trip planning, but it turned out that the tiny town of Ford had a small ramshackle mercantile. The floor was dirty patched concrete and tile, but it had cold drinks. We both slurped down 22 oz sodas, and refilled the water bottles.

I learned not to complain in my mind about the headwind, because it was keeping us at least somewhat air-cooled. Every time we got into a more sheltered place, it immediately felt so much hotter. When we finally made it into the slightly larger town of Springdale at about mile 55, we were both flagging. Springdale had an honest-to-goodness grocery – probably the nearest place to the Spokane Reservation with fresh produce. We bought ice cream bars and leaned the bike and ourselves against the grocery’s shaded wall. David returned to the grocery to buy a frozen strawberry lemonade cup. As we sat there, consuming our confections, the bike and the bikie gear we had on attracted attention like we were a pair of exotic birds. The rural white/Indian folks coming in and out of of the store generally at least checked us out and usually engaged us in conversation.

After this sugar-overloaded break, the remaining 15 miles into Chewelah felt relatively easy. The fields seemed greener and overall, it was probably downhill-ish into town.

Temperature sign as we rode in around 4:00 PM – 92 degrees.

We found our motel, took showers, and changed into street clothes. As we walked around downtown Chewelah trying to decide on where we should eat for dinner, I got overwhelmingly hot and dizzy. I stepped into the shade, where there just happened to be a garden hose and poured water on my head until I felt a little more normal. At this point, David decided that we should not delay any further, and led us to the Shanghai Restaurant. Often the sole Chinese restaurant in a small town is not necessarily a good bet, but we had huge platters of fresh hot food with lots of vegetables, laced with fresh ginger and garlic – I have no complaints.

We toddled back to the motel, and I fell asleep extraordinarily early.

Our odometer was not working consistently – estimate of total miles is 77.

DAY TWO
We got up again around 5:45 AM. We packed up and rode to Trefz Bakery in the center of Chewelah. We did some joking about how the food there would be all treif instead of kosher – and then laughed even harder when we looked at the menu and noticed simultaneously that all the smoked meats were either turkey or beef.

By the time we left the bakery it was 7:30, about the same time we had started the day before. It’s a good thing we were on the road as early as we could be, because our first task of the day was climbing Flowery Trail Pass. The overall grade was 4.5%, but this meant that there were many sections that were steeper as we stair-stepped our way to the top.

The road up was ideal: good pavement, wide shoulders, and nearly no motor vehicle traffic. It was still largely in morning shade. We took two breaks along the climb up to catch our breath, but otherwise made it up quite handily.

The descent initially was quite fun (my attempts to video it from over David’s shoulder came to naught), but the party was soon over. The road was completed a few years ago, but paved with the worst chipseal we were to encounter on the trip. Imagine an 8% grade, heavy vibration, and occasional climbs and stops to thread our way over cattle guards. It was quite a relief to leave that section of chipseal when we finally reached the floor of the Pend Oreille river valley.

We saw another couple pedaling along, and caught up to them, and inquired about the way to Usk. These were the first bicyclists we had seen since leaving the Centennial Trail. They were blown away at the notion that we had come that morning from Chewelah and were planning to be in Sandpoint by the end of the day.

We had a second breakfast in a diner in Usk (mile 30). I noticed on the community bulletin board in the diner on the way out an advertisement for a volunteer program similar to the one I run. I thought it was interesting that if you volunteer to drive the elderly to medical appointments in their program, they will pay for accommodations as necessary – points out the long distances people have to travel for medical care in rural areas.

We had a splendid flat spin along the river in dappled shade, mid-day sunshine and river breezes, and soon arrived at Oldtown, Idaho (about mile 50) for lunch. We ate at a diner overlooking the river, and then had a somewhat miserable climb out of town on a busy road with no shoulders in the hot sun. My cue sheet was a bit off, and we flagged down some guy in a black pick-up who assured us that indeed we needed to turn left where we were.

So we got off this awful highway, and did some ups and downs until we were back down on the Pend Oreille River. Just like the previous section, we would get relatively cool breezes off of the river, and dappled sunlight and shade. It was only when we got off of the river that it seemed pretty hot. We stopped by the side of the road and had goos and water, but we weren’t completely restored, and now our water supplies were running relatively low.

We stopped by another rural fire station, hoping to again find water, but they were on to wiseacres like us, and their spigot required a special handle to make it turn. We chatted there with some folks on ORVs who told us that our planned route ahead was partly on dirt road, and so we decided to just take the road we were on, Dufort, out to the highway.

As we were riding along – after seeing more osprey nests in a few miles than I’ve ever seen in my life – we came upon a roadside sign that said, “state park ahead”. Since originally I hadn’t planned to be on Dufort this long, I didn’t know we’d be by Round Lake State Park. We refilled our water bottles. Then we put on our swimsuits and ran into Round Lake. I could feel my body temperature just drop. I floated serenely on my back for some time. We came out, drank more water and had more goos, topped up the bottles, and hit the road again.

It was only 2 more miles, and we were on Hwy 95. The highway had the benefits and the drawbacks of these sorts of major thoroughfares. The shoulder was wide and clean, but the traffic was high speed and relentless, and there was a deep rumble strip between the shoulder and the fog line. The ranger at Round Lake told us about the bike trail that started in Sagle, and we took that rooty and bumpy route across Lake Pend Oreille.

Roadside temperature sign outside of Sandpoint at about 5:00 PM: 89 degrees.

The trail was gravel in several sections through road construction. We were pretty beat and so dismounted and walked through these. We finally made it into town and found our hotel. Since David had had some difficulty putting the derailleur into the big ring, we dumped the luggage and rode a few blocks to a local bike shop. At this point, they were 15 minutes until closing. The mechanic was garrulous but uninterested in looking at the problem, just telling us what he would do if he had more time, and what might be the problem. We then rode back to the hotel, stripped off our sticky, reeking bike clothes, and took blissful showers.

I knew exactly what I wanted – Italian food – and there was an Italian restaurant in the downstairs of the hotel. I sort of insisted that we eat right there, and we did. The antipasti arrived – a platter of crostini, cheeses, pesto, sun-dried tomatoes, and it tasted so good I nearly burst into tears right there. We hoovered up this up, and our salads, and two baskets of bread, and then some lovely entrees – I had a chicken breast rolled in fontina cheese and prosciutto, while David had the veal saltimbocca. I also managed to put away a couple of glasses of wine. We toddled back up to our rooms, and somehow I didn’t have the wherewithal to pack up anything for the next day – just brushed my teeth and went to bed.

Total estimated distance for the day: 81 miles.

DAY THREE
We got up at the usual time, and got to Panhandler Pies for breakfast right when it was supposed to open. It hadn’t, quite, but some locals banged on the door for us, and we all tumbled in.

We then took off out of Sandpoint, re-threading our way back on the bumpy, rooty multi-use trail, more willing to ride through the gravel sections because our legs and our brains were fresher. Again, it was the remorseless high-speed, high-volume traffic, wide clear shoulder, and rumble strip. The worst of it was when a rumble strip continued when the pavement quite narrowed. This was in the midst of a downhill section, and we were sailing along at about 30 mph when David had to brake madly, bring the bike to a halt. (I have the mile marker noted, and I’m going to complain to the Idaho State DOT.)

We were more than 25 miles down the road from Sandpoint, after we took a brief water/pee break, when we noticed that the rear wheel was flat – our first flat of the entire season. We pulled off all the luggage off the bike, squatted by the side of Hwy 95, and proceeded to replace the tube with really little difficulty. We then proceeded into Athol (mile 30). We had an extended stop in the little grocery there, getting a variety of snacks: an orange, two yogurts, peanuts, fritos, cheesy popcorn, and sodas.

We then took Old Hwy 95, a deserted relief to the busy road we’d been riding, and turned on Brunner Road. We were then going to take a left on Diagonal Road, which, true to its name, was going to cut across the grid in a southwesterly direction, cutting out some miles. Except, when we got there, the road was dirt. We flagged down a little pick-up truck, driven by a tanned young man in his 20s, with marijuana leaves on his earrings and the back filled with flagger stop/slow signs. He suggested that we keep on Brunner to Ramsey Road. Since Diagonal was going to connect us to Ramsey Road, it meant just a few more miles, and was most satisfactory.

Ramsey Road turned out to be one of the little highlights of the day – it was a slight downhill grade and a tailwind, very few cars, and pretty. We flew down Ramsey Road, often at 25+ mph, until it was no longer pine forest along the base of a small mountain, and it had opened up into farmers’ fields.

We rode through a housing development outside of Rathburn, and the little left-right-left that I had routed us along had one section that was not paved, but it was short, and we rode through it no problem. Now it was a long run down Huetter Road – again, slightly downhill, with a tailwind, but straight as an arrow through fields of wheat and very few cars. I had somewhat dreaded this part previously because I knew it would be open and late in the morning, and I feared it would be broiling hot. But the tailwind meant we were air-cooled as we flew down the road.

We could tell we were approaching the Spokane River, but couldn’t see how the Centennial Trail intersected. We went to the very base of trail, then decided we’d use a paralleling road to connect to the trail later. We found the trail, but decided then to have lunch (about mile 52) in Post Falls.

After food, we got on the Centennial Trail for our final leg home. As we found on the trail a few days before, there were problems with signage and finding the thread of the trail, but we managed OK until we accidentally got on a spur to Liberty Lake. When we got off the spur, we rode on a bike lane through Liberty Lake and then did a little dead reckoning and found our way back on the trail.

The trail was quite pretty through this section. The river rushed through smooth rocks, and the path threaded its way through the pine trees.

Soon we were back where Sullivan Bridge ran overhead, and we left the trail. I lost one of my water bottles in the middle of a suburban arterial (squashed flat by a car) but we were nearly done, so no harm. In a few blocks we were back at the car, left in the cul-de-sac where we parked it. We stripped off our stinking gloves and helmets, removed the bike shoes (ahhh!) threw the tandem on top, and returned to the hotel where we started three days before.

We had some sushi downtown, stayed up until 9:00 PM and watched TV in the air-conditioned splendor of our Spokane hotel, and went to sleep.

Estimated mileage for the day, what with detours and getting lost – 78 miles.

AFTERMATH

The next day we drove out to Eastern Washington University, in Cheney, near to Spokane, and saw Rose perform after her week of band camp. We then got some Mexican food in town, and did the long drive home.