25 miles

Our day in Sandpoint was delightful and bizarre. We agreed to take it slow—there was a decent campground about 20 miles east of Sandpoint on the water, and we both wanted to poke around town a bit. We chatted with Steve and Judy over coffee and then headed out to explore. We checked out some antiques and gift shops, found a couple bookshops, sent some mail, had a delicious breakfast at Bluebird bakery, and eventually visited the farmers market.

We kept bumping into Judy and Steve, and even randomly met one of their cyclist friends in town. Everyone we saw was so friendly and supportive, asking about our trip and wishing us well. It felt sort of surreal, like in a Disney scene when all the woodland creatures are smiling and singing and following the protagonist around. One guy selling baked goods at the market asked where we were going when he saw our bikes, and when we told him we’re riding to Maine, he literally threw two bags of cookies at us, refused to let us pay, and sincerely wished us a good trip. Another man offered to watch our bikes for us while we looked around. When we returned to them, a couple had joined him at his picnic table and offered to take our pictures. Picking up on all this buzz, a nearby vendor offered us each a bag of fresh greens and again, wouldn’t take our money. It felt like a dream. I bought some freeze-dried fruit (the perfect provision in terms of carry weight/calories) and a small bar of (suspected) hippie soap. When we finally left town, we hit a nice bike path near the water, where we spotted a guy dressed like a pirate on a fanciful pirate ship complete with pirate sails, floating by as if this was a completely normal thing to do on an average Saturday afternoon.

About 3 miles before we reached our campground, we stopped at a little shop where some live music was being played on the front stoop, which had been set up as a stage. We had just sat down with some ice creams when suddenly we heard a loud pop, like a gunshot. Apparently, Danielle’s tube had expanded in the sun and exploded at a weak spot, popping the tire off the rim while it sat. She had a spare tube, but it was the wrong size. 

Fortunately for us, Steve is a bike mechanic, and had insisted we call if we had any trouble. We hadn’t gone very far, so we called. It was humbling to have to ask for rescue, but as promised he showed up and fixed the tire for her. Apparently we had pulled him from someone’s graduation party, which was even more humbling. We were both so relieved to have his help. He gave us both hugs, thanked us for being in their lives, and left Danielle with an extra spare tube. His help felt so genuine and warm, like we had somehow been the ones doing him a favor by calling on him for it.

A short way down the road, we stopped again, because the tire wasn’t quite seated correctly. Another man happened to be pulling into his driveway next to us at the exact moment when we noticed it, and he jumped into action to help. His name was Mike. We chatted while the tire was being reinstalled. He told us he had once walked across the country years ago with a stroller, planting flags in the ground for each American soldier who was killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was interesting to meet him and hear his story. 

I am realizing how, after the tire exploded, it had given me the opportunity to relax on the grass back at the store while we waited for Steve, and read a little of my book. The weather was perfect, and we were surrounded by music and people and lakes and mountains, so, even what felt like the biggest setback of the day had afforded us some well spent time.

I also found myself reflecting today on how I have sort of a pathological need to do things for myself, and I often struggle or hesitate to accept help from people when they offer. It was nice to be reminded today that there can be times when relying on someone’s gift can also function as a gift to the giver, and you can usually feel when that’s true.

Tomorrow we will head to Bad Medicine Campground and hopefully see the Ross Creek Cedar Grove.