I’m thinking about this $85 Eddie Bauer shirt that I am wearing. They don’t pay me, I pay them. It is a nice shirt though. Lightweight. SPF protection. Long sleeve. Thumb-hole hand thingies. Worth it for sure. I have no before photo nor any wifi to download one, but here it is after 8 straight days. Not as bright. I’ll take another shot at the end. And then another pic after I wash it. One would think this designer name brand would want to replace it for me free of charge, a reasonable man would likely come to the conclusion that it shouldn’t be in this bad a shape after only one wear.

I won’t hold my breath; I will start again, back to me waking up at 435am in the middle of a town with no services but potable water and portable toilets… and three border collies circling my tent. A slight dehydration headache and plenty of body tightness salutes me a good old “top of the morning to ya”. I climb out and put pants on. The dogs’ owner greets me as well, we chat and then he drops the bomb: there is indeed a hot shower in that nondescript brown pole-barn-of-a-building 50 yards away. His name is Les — his dogs, his Idaho trucker hat and the way he points a finger across his pickup truck after walking out of his trailer is kingly as fuck out here — so I insist on using the imperial system when the alleged shower and shitter is clearly more like 50 meters. I digress. King Les is in town working. Apparently herding sheep. Seriously? Maybe more. Rebuilding Malden one way or another I’m sure. He finishes his coffee and heads off and pardons himself as running late before speeding off two blocks around the corner. I def hear and then see him and his pups herding sheep about 200 yards away. Fuck yes.

That hat of his though. We’re actually headed to the state of… who da hoe? Idaho! Today hopefully. Right now I’m sunrise surprise-showered and looking at 8 miles to Rosalia and the first store or services of any kind in like 100 miles. Rosalia is tiny. Two blocks of anything. The one grocery store disappoints. The cafe doesn’t. Sipping Oat milk latte for major relaxation when this bombshell gorgeous blond struts in, proving that hourglass is indeed a shape, and she is in shape. She’s rocking a very red top and very blue jeans and decides my stanky ass is worth a smile; my mind’s all like: spoke gods bless ‘merica. Hmm. My only patriotism usually manifests in dissent. Clearly, I’ve been in the woods too long. Chad is busy nerding out about the many antique restorations around town to notice anything ever, let alone Hollywood Honey. To each his own. Civilization for the wins! Concerned we might never leave for various reasons, we pack up and fill up water and push out on the 18 miles to Tekoa.

Tekoa is a bit more robust; has a similarly lackluster market, a decent coffee shop, yet a superb “rest area”: patch of grass, picnic table, toilets and water. It’s more “all-at-once” services than we’ve had in a few days. I’m sipping a cold brew and analyzing the route. We rest. After word, im back at that rest stop, soaking myself and every piece of clothing I’m wearing with the water spigot. We roll on, the last few miles of Washington before Idaho. Beyond that, a little navigating and we’re at the trailhead for the Trail of the Coere d’Alene.

Wow. It’s a wondrous partnership between the native tribes and the Idaho government resulting in cleanup of the waterways and a 73 mile paved bike path. Paved!! Rail Trail Hall of Fame.

We push downhill and down pavement at 15mph toward Hawley’s Landing Campground in Heyburn State Park. It’s fabulous. Rosie the hosts hooks us up and we get to take $7 off for not having a car. As I doze off, my patriotism is well-adjusted: spoke gods bless Idaho!