Day 27: Mission Idaho

The best thing about road tripping is that, if done right, you find weird and wonderful things around every bend.

Coeur d’Alene, ID, was about as surprising a town as we’ve stumbled across. I’m not sure what I thought would be there, but I wasn’t expecting the hip, artsy, resort vibe that suffuses the air. Cool little shops, a beautiful and expansive lake, mountain views.

It was a just a fast food stop, honestly. Earl and I were starving after a late start from Spokane, and a break in Coeur d’Alene gave us a Thing to Do in Idaho rather than just driving through on our way to Montana.

While we were in the drive-thru for food, I realized it was Saturday. Now, we are in desperate need of postcard stamps, which I know you can probably get everywhere, but I haven’t had the chance to be everywhere for whatever reason. Velma the Nav told us the post office was through the main drag of town, but it wasn’t far, so I crossed my fingers that they would be open on a Saturday morning before noon

It was not.

But know what was? The Museum of North Idaho! And my kid is a su-u-u-u-ucker for a museum these days.

We parked in a lot full of beach-goers (“There’s a beach in Idaho?” I asked myself.) and my child disappeared into the building.

Admission was cheap, parking was included, and it was already a win.

The lady up front asked if we were interested in a quick video about the area. Obviously, neither Earl nor myself knew a lick about town, so we excitedly nodded and followed the lady into a small room off the small museum and settled in. Earl wrapped my arm around her shoulders as we learned about Coeur d’Alene area’s native Schee-Chu-Umsh/Coeur d’Alene tribal history, the arrival of the black-robed Jesuits, the mining, the logging, the steamboats, and the boon of tourism.

I’m not sure which surprised me most: That I had no idea, or that I was surprised I had no idea, seeing as I’ve never been to Idaho and was one of those ignorant Americans who thought it was all about potatoes and salmon.

We left the museum chock full of new knowledge of a new place and figured we’d be-bop our way straight on to Montana.

Until something caught my eye off the interstate.

And Earl shot me a dirty look for my fast and rough exit to go explore.

The Mission of the Sacred Heart (or The Old Mission or Cataldo Mission) was built in a cooperative effort between earlier mentioned Jesuit priests led by Father DeSmet and the Coeur d’Alene Tribe. It stands today as the oldest original building in Idaho, although it’s been renovated a couple of times for preservation’s sake.

I walked around and gawked at the colors and the handiwork.

The vision and craftsmanship that went into this building are amazing. The ceilings were stained blue using native huckleberries.

The statues on either side of the altar were hand-carved by De Smet with a knife out of wood. He painted most of the pictures himself. The chandeliers he made to look like expensive fixtures…using tin cans.

The floors were hand hewn, the walls decorated with painted newspaper before they were able to get enough fabric. It’s a true labor of love, and the power within those walls still reverberates. I can’t imagine how heartsick the Coeur d’Alenes were when they were removed from this truly sacred space.

We finally made it to Missoula and checked in to a Holiday Inn right in the thick of things. There was a cycling event going on, and we had to dodge cheering sections and roped off areas to walk to dinner at an awesome little Mexican joint recommended by the desk clerk. Earl watched cyclists zoom by while I added our stops to Roadtrippers.com and marveled that this trip has gone bonkers enough that we have reached the max number of waypoints (60), and we were still 2,500 miles from home. Uhh…time to be less specific perhaps?

Post-dinner, I was done for the day. Earl, however, was not. Or perhaps she was over done. I just know as soon as we were back in the hotel, I lost her (and my iPad) under the sheets of the cozy bed. I figured she deserved it. It’s been a few days since I’ve let her indulge in non-trip related device time.

That didn’t last long, as one of her favorite shows came on TV and we watched, but two hours later, she was flipping and flopping and kicking and punching pillows and grunting.

“What is the problem over there?” I asked, flipping on the light.

“I hate these pillows!” she growled.

“Why?”

“Because they’re too soft! This bed is too comfy! It’s gonna make me go to sleep!”

“Which is…kind of the point?” I replied.

“I hate sleep. It’s my least favorite part of the day. And these pillows are so comfy they’re EVIL,” she pouted.

Sigh.

If only she’d take that same attitude in the morning when there is nothing so wonderful as another 5 minutes of sleep.

(Yes, mother, I know.)

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Disclaimer: It must be disclosed that Holiday Inn, in collaboration with Roadtrippers.com’s Extraordinary Journeys, was generous enough to give us plenty of IHG Reward Points to cover our room for the night in exchange for a mention in this post. The opinions are entirely mine, Earl’s words are 100% Earl and unsolicited, and those beds really were evilly comfy. Oh, and Holiday Inn? Your wi-fi officially wins as the rockingest free wi-fi we’ve encountered on this trip so far. Thanks!