Hiawatha Trail.
Coeur D’Alene. Now that’s a town worth spending more time in. We camped at Heyburn State Park, about 45 minutes south of Coeur D’Alene and then we spent so many hours driving to all the destinations around Coeur D’Alene that we had planned to visit that we barely scratched the surface of this apparently awesome northern Idaho town. Three days was definitely not sufficient.
We biked the Hiawatha Trail the first day, which turned out to be an all-day adventure. We drove across the Montana border to pick up our tickets, parked our car at the trailhead, got everyone situated with working headlights and lamps, and were on our way. The first tunnel is 1.2 miles long and the darkness is a bit of a shocker. Not to mention the cold. There are gutters on either side of the tunnel to funnel the water away from the center of the path. Still, the path is plenty wet and you’re bound to get a few drips of water on your face as you navigate the dark abyss. Or, get splashed by the person in front of you.
Tim took the lead, with Jack in tow – I told him to put the plastic shield down on the bike trailer. He didn’t. Lily and Rachel followed him eagerly and Eve and Anna lagged behind with me as we approached the tunnel. Then Anna just HAD to take a picture and stopped right in front of me. Eve was apprehensive about entering without me so I rode around Anna, telling her she’d be on her own so that Eve wouldn’t have to go it alone (Tim and the others were already well into the mountain at this point).
It wasn’t quite the start we were going for, as we ended up split into three groups, but we made it to the other side relatively unscathed. Except for Jack, who was splattered by the mud that Tim’s rear wheels kicked up. It must not have been terribly traumatic for him, though, because he did not utter a peep the whole time.
The next ten miles boasted sweeping vistas, exhilarating trellises, a few short tunnels to break it up for the kids, and a light breeze for good measure. There’s a slight downhill grade, just enough that you have to keep pedaling but not enough to work your legs into oblivion. Truly, this is the perfect family bike ride. The last five miles leave a bit more to be desired. By now, you’re deeper in the canyon so there are fewer tunnels, trellises and the views less stunning. Plus, it’s probably afternoon by now, unless you got an early start and the altitude change is just enough for the heat to settle in a bit.
None of this would have been a problem for me, but for the kids, well, mostly my youngest, it got to be pretty taxing. To her credit, she was riding the bike that was least equipped to ride on gravel. It was your typical kids bike – heavy with no gears and the bumpiness was really getting to her. The last five miles I spent coaxing her into pushing through, stopping for quick snack breaks, assuring her that she was doing great and that she would make it (though even I had to contemplate the possibility of walking her bike the last mile or so).
I even started breaking out into song, singing my best rendition of “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow” to infuse a bit of light-heartedness into the atmosphere. She wasn’t having it. The girl was bent on being miserable. I even quoted Jeffrey R. Holland, who said, “No misfortune is so bad that whining won’t make it worse.” Not surprisingly, that didn’t work.
Five miles of this. Five agonizing miles. Then all of a sudden, we rounded a corner, saw the end of the trail and her beloved sisters and dad waiting patiently for us and she was all smiles. It was like the last five miles had never happened. For her. I was still fuming inside at the emotional acrobatics I’d had to perform just to keep her from throwing her bike off a ledge.
We loaded up into the shuttle bus, which took us back to the initial tunnel and we pedaled back through for another 1.2 miles where our car was parked with her merrily singing the entire way.
Despite the torture exacted by this particular daughter, it was perhaps the best bike ride of my entire life. The scenery was stunning, the physical exertion minimal, and the uniqueness of riding on what used to be an old railroad lent a variety not seen on a typical trail. If you’re looking for a higher exertion and adventure level, this may not be your ride. Try Slick Rock in Moab, Utah, cause this trail’s for families with young(ish) children. Loved, loved it.
