In spite of the late laser show and web page editing last night, I was up and out of the motel by eight. The fact that it was ten back home may have been a tiny contributing factor.
I took a few more pictures of Grand Coulee Dam from the amphitheater across from the motel before checking out.
After I checked out I spoke to the man in the motel office (probably the owner) about a variety of things. One of them was the yellow and red marking on the rock faces.
He said this was lichen and that there was a Native American story to go with them. Remember, he is the source of the story. I have no idea how authentic it is
Once upon a time the jackrabbits left the Basin, and Eagle was having trouble finding enough to eat. Coyote said that he could make the jackrabbits return if he could marry Eagle's daughter. Reluctantly Eagle agreed and the wedding was planned.
During the wedding feast Eagle's daughter said that she refused to marry Coyote because he was so ugly. In anger Coyote took the food and threw it against the mountains.
The motel owner told me that guided tours of the dam didn't start until ten, but that I should go to the visitor center and see what else was available.
I got to the visitor center only to find that it didn't open until 8:30. That was still fifteen minutes away, and I didn't feel like hanging around, especially since I wouldn't be taking a tour. So I left.
I took some pictures of the dam, then drove across the top of it. I doubt the pictures will transfer the feeling of looking straight down the face.
I then drove up to an observation area I had seen from the motel. This provided a pretty good view of the whole dam. A sign said that the narration for the laser show is broadcast by an FM radio station so that it can be watched from up here.
Almost as fascinating as the dam itself were the parades of big high voltage line towers marching from the dam in all directions. The narration during the laser show last night said that the huge amount of electricity generated by the dam was the primary reason that Seattle became an aviation manufacturing center during the Second World War.
These towers went off in all directions, sticking up from the horizon wherever I looked.
I backtracked to Electric City to photograph the folk art windmills, since it had been too dark the night before.
I am a bit disappointed with this. Yes, there are a lot of lovely folk art windmills spinning in the breeze, made from a large assortment of things, like pots and pans and cut up cans and hard hats and tools, but they are packed tightly into a tiny area, surrounded by a locked fence.
East of the dam I passed through rolling hills of irrigated farmland stretching as far as I could see. I hit U.S. 2 and drove this into Spokane. I passed by an air force base on the way in. An obstacle course ran right next to the highway. No one was using it. It looked pretty tough.
I guess I hadn't given Spokane much thought. I knew where it was and had read that it was the biggest city between Minneapolis and Seattle. Road Trip USA featured a photograph of a very large Radio Flyer wagon in a park, so I went looking for it.
I found it, but I also found a wonderful park with a beautiful waterfall right in the middle of it. Well, the main fall is just outside the park, but smaller falls and churning water run through the park and are crossed by several bridges.
The park also features and IMAX theater, a carousel, other kiddie rides, and a bunch of people having a great time.
I took a few telephoto people pictures, but I don't think I got the most interesting subjects: a group of skaters lounging under a tree. They had brightly colored mohawks fixed into large spikes that must have been a foot long. Unfortunately, they were in shadows, and inconsiderate park visitors kept walking between us. I think one of them saw me, so I gave up.
I asked the attendant of a skate rental stand where to find the wagon. He spent three or four minutes thinking about it, occasionally pausing to tell me that he was working on it, before giving up and suggesting that I ask someone else. He said he knew where it was, but that he wasn't any good at directions.
He really seemed to be trying. I wonder if he has a serious problem giving directions or some kind of communication problem in general.
I spent an hour wandering around.
I skipped the gondola ride over the main falls because the line was too long, but I found that the city conveniently placed some fifteen minute parking spaces in a perfect place to look and take pictures.
Leaving Spokane I found a golf match on the radio. Several comedians have made jokes about watching golf on television. I wonder what they would make of a radio broadcast.
I started east on I 90 toward Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, then changed my mind and headed north until I ran into U.S. 2.
The state highway signs for Washington are silhouettes of George Washington.
The landscape changed to forest and low mountains as I headed north to Newport, Washington. Newport claimed to be the "City of Flags", but I didn't see any flags. Main Street was completely ripped up for construction and was impassable. Maybe the flags are usually there.
I passed an "Adopt-A-Highway" sign that said "Bonner County Corrections Facility". I wonder if the people who pick up the trash along that stretch do so voluntarily.
Sandpoint is a very touristy town. There is a large Christmas store and several other "boutique" shops in the downtown area. North of town is where the locals shop. I stopped at Wal-Mart to buy more film (just in case) and a flashlight (ditto).
North of Sandpoint I saw a sign that said "Moose Area" or something like that. I don't remember for sure, because my tape recorder was locked in the trunk.
At Bonner Ferry, fewer than thirty miles from the Canadian border, 2 finally turned east. Since I was at the narrowest bit of the Idaho panhandle, I was very quickly in Montana.
When I heard that people of Montana had eliminated their speed limit, I assumed that this was just on Interstate highways between population centers. This is, after all, the way it is done in the rest of the country. It's even the way the Autobahn works in Germany.
I was mistaken.
Unless otherwise posted (when passing through towns, basically), the day speed limit for cars is "reasonable and prudent". For trucks it is 60, and at night it is 55 for everyone.
These limits apply not just to Interstates but to all other roads, too.
I really like this. At first there was the thrill of no limit. After a while, though, I just settled into driving as usual. I let the road dictate the speed (usually 60-65, sometimes faster in straight stretches, sometimes slower in curvy ones). The only real difference is that I didn't have to check my speed every time I saw an oncoming car (although I did out of habit, anyway).
To help people remember what "reasonable and prudent" means, there are little white crosses along the roadside mounted on red metal poles. Sometimes there are more than one white cross, but they are mounted on small red poles which are in turn connected to a crosspiece that is supported by a single pole.
The scenery changed almost as soon as I drove into Montana. The mountains got much taller (some had snow on the top) and the forests of ponderosa pine and other trees thickened. The river (or rivers) beside the road flowed swift and shallow, looking real, not the product of a dam.
Just east of Troy I stopped by a souvenir stand/museum named Wildlife World. The sign said
THIS IS IT
WILD SHOPPING
FAMILY FUN
There were carved animals in the yard and a big trout on a pole. By the front door is a stuffed bear that pees on your leg as you open the door. He also pees when the woman behind the counter presses a button.
The museum is a decent collection of stuffed animals, including bears and moose and big cats and a lot of birds. Among the real animals was a very rare white-tailed jackalope.
Out back were a lot of interesting birds, some in cages and some wandering about. There were also two trout ponds and vending machines full of trout food. They jumped and thrashed when food was dropped in.
There were some interesting souvenirs for sale. There were the faces of foxes, change purses made from lynx paws, and complete pelts (or just tails) of several animals.
There were key chains made of the claws of bears and the teeth of moose and elk. The more interesting key chains were made from the penis bones of coyotes and bears.
There's a large statue of a flying eagle in Libby, but there's almost nothing between Libby and Kalispell. Then the tourist stuff starts.
The gambling laws must be very lax in Montana. Almost every bar and convenience store claims to be a casino.
I got a gas, drinks, and a burger in Kalispell, then drive north a bit. I passed miniature golf courses and Go-Kart tracks and souvenir stands and cheap-looking motels though every small town.
I stopped at the House of Mystery just short of Hungry Horse ("Home of Hungry Horse Dam. Friendliest Dam Town in the West!") This is a mystery spot. They've got no tour guide, just recordings at three different places. On the positive side, it was open at 8:30, and I went through myself, which probably wouldn't happen at the others.
She claimed that this vortex (one of five known in the United States) was one of the strongest. I did, indeed, start to feel dizzy as I walked onto the cement slab in front of the shack.
It was getting a bit dark inside, but I still climbed the wall, swung the pendulum, and rolled my marbles uphill.
For those who don't feel like paying, the House of Mystery has a giant rocking chair and a two-story outhouse by the parking lot.
I passed Great Bear Adventure, a drive-through bear park where "your car is your cage". It was closed, but I decided against going back tomorrow, since my "cage" is rented and has a soft fabric top.
Just outside the entrance to Glacier National Park the folks of West Glacier, Montana, have constructed a bunch of gift shops and visitor centers that are brown and yellow and look very much like the buildings inside the park.
I bought my Golden Eagle Pass at the gate. Curious about how late the gates were manned, I asked the ranger how late she would be there. Her answer was very vague. I realized that she thought I was hitting on her. I tried to explain, but I finally gave up.
By some weird twist of fate I was able to make reservations for a motel room just this past week. The Village Inn is right on the shore or Lake McDonald. The view out my window is of the lake and the mountains behind it. Although it was getting dark when I arrived, I managed to get a few pictures.
The Guest Services book for the Village Inn motel says this:
"As part of your Montana experience, staying in one of our historic, wonderful old Hotels, Lodges, or Motor Inns can provide you some unique opportunities:
It is now the next morning, and it is raining. I think I'll go have breakfast and hope it clears before checkout time.