Repeat Performance

A fifty-mile circle took us south of Spokane through rich farmlands of winter wheat, with a stop at Steptoe Battlefield, one of the last clashes in the Indian wars, all the way to Steptoe Butte State Park, a national geologic landmark. On foot we followed the road from the lower parking lot to the top of Steptoe Butte. At 3,620 feet, the world was at our feet. Freezing winds whipped our ears, but we could see at least 30 miles in every direction.

"You know what I like best?" asked Andy. "We've been to some incredible places and often there is no one there."

Alone at the top, we watched swallows dip and climb and dive. A falcon shot up from a wheat field and disappeared from view behind a rock outcropping. Everywhere patchwork shapes of tans and browns and greens and grays blanketed the panorama. Casting shadows in the morning sun, the nearby hillocks darkened surrounding terrain. Andy read the sign. He explained, "This is rich because windblown soil has been carried here for thousands of years." The butte is a remnant of a volcanic age 15 million years ago. Then glaciers scraped the land. Now the dips and mounds of rich silt are as much as 200 feet deep. "Just look at how black it is," he said. We drove down Steptoe Butte Road, a one-lane asphalt path from the sky.

Closer to Coeur d'Alene, smoke billowed from burning fields. No sirens. No whistles. No bells. Apparently the Indians on the Coeur d'Alene Reservation burn the cut fields to plow the ash back into the soil.

The circle drive put us back in Coeur d'Alene by noon. This time we found a city park two-mile peninsula trail around the point. The path skirted the edge of the rock and ducked back in among the trees with spectacular views of the lake.

"Oh, are you coming out here?" called Andy from one of the side trails that led to a rock island just off shore.

"I'm coming down," I called back, "but probably not out. You know my track record. I'd fall in."

He hopped around the rocks as I picked my way, camera in hand, down the edge of the cliff to the water. "Be careful you don't slip," I called out as he started back across the water. No sooner had I said it, than the rock he stepped to shifted. Andy ended up with one foot in Coeur d'Alene Lake. "At least you can say you went in the water!" I teased.

Back in Spokane, the last arc of our circle tour, we stopped at two wineries: Latah Creek Winery and Gift Shop and Arbor Crest Wine Cellars. "He won't let me shop," I told the owner at Latah Creek, after the three of us had visited for half an hour. "There isn't room in the Saturn for packages." But the wine we purchased from her after our samplings will make a special evening treat. We even acknowledged John Steinbeck when she mentioned she had had a poodle named Charley.

Like last night, we spent the pre-dusk hours walking the streets of downtown Spokane with its shopping mall, creative statues, exhibition areas, extensive city park and breathtaking waterfalls... a repeat performance that would never be tiresome.