From Coeur D'Alene to Camping

Leaving Seattle in its typical (though some friends beg to differ) cloudy rain, we continued up and over the Cascades once more.  The higher latitude brought out a different aspect of the Cascades; though we didn't believe it possible, they actually grew greener and wetter.  Stopping on the highest mountain at a tiny little ski resort to gas up, we smelt the "dearest freshness, deep down things" as Hopkins once described it.  The world is indeed charged with the grandeur of God, it rushed down the slopes of the Cascades right into our eyes, noses, and ears. Eastern Washington continued with the typical "desert-side" of most mountain ranges, but it was by no means as desolate as the deserts of California and Nevada. 

It was late afternoon when we arrived in Idaho, but we couldn't really tell the difference as the cloud-cover had not let up much the whole way.  The rain, lightly sprinkling on and off, was quite refreshing after so long in the dry south-west and western US.  Coeur D'Alene, literally translated to "Heart of the Awl" and mysterious in its nominal roots, was already gearing us up for the foothills of the Rockies.  The Jenkins' family, with whom we stayed, lived on several acres outside of town in a true log cabin just finished by their father.  He was a logger who explained to us a lot about the business of designing and building a house where the walls, insulation, plumbing, and wiring all had to work around solid logs.  There wasn't much drywall or plaster in the place.  It's rustic beauty suited the countryside around it quite well.  We also found ourselves not only in the warmth of a cabin, but also once again in the radiance and glow of a big family.  They knew how to cook well for four post-college guys and we ate our fill.  The next morning, they helped us plan our route to Glacier and through their knowledge of the area and helpful atlases, we were ummm....ready... for our camping trip.