Tour Diary: Spokane, WA and North Cascades National Park

A charming spot in Spokane, more natural splendor, and my first bump of the journey.

The Farmer’s Community Hall along US Route 2 in central Washington.

The morning sun and I arose at about the same time on a Wednesday morning in Wallace, ID. I packed up my luggage and accessories from my room at the Brooks Hotel downtown and stuffed them into the Buick before heading to the lobby for a coffee mug refill. Down in the lobby, I chatted with the manager and a pair of very kind servers who were quite curious about my tour and how I had ended up in the tiny town of Wallace for the night. They shared some history of the town, including the summer that the entirety of downtown was consumed with the filming of the 90’s volcano-based thriller, Dante’s Peak.

With coffee secured and some walking trail advice from my new friends, I set about strolling the streets and trails of Wallace on a beautiful western morning. First, I hiked through downtown amongst the charming shops, vintage stores, restaurants, bars, and local offices. Wallace is an incredibly well preserved mining town that was booming by the late 1800’s. It appears now to be little more than a random a stop along the interstate, unless you take the time to investigate the area a bit.

As I hit the edge of the downtown area, I crossed over the boundary road and made my way to a relatively new trail that had been carved out of a former rail line. For more than a half hour I walked along a gentle stream until I reached the edge of a more heavily forested area, which I avoided due to recent sightings of mountain lions along that section of trail. I careened back toward town along a loping route and eventually found myself back amongst smaller row houses that were modestly appointed, but very well kept.

The original home of the famous film actress Lana Turner sits just off of the main street in town back in a secluded little neighborhood. The two story house is plain and unimpressive, but still very well cared for. I marveled that a young woman with dreams of stardom somehow made them a reality, all while coming from a town that held less than 1,000 residents while she lived there. We’ve all gotta come from somewhere, right?

With an hour of walking under my belt, it seemed time to get some miles behind me. I strolled back to the hotel and was kindly given another refill on the coffee mug before hitting the road. With a short drive to Spokane, I would have loads of time for exploring once I reached town.

Spokane is a beautiful city that rests alongside the Spokane River, which cascades elegantly into town down a series of falls that feature a huge public walkway for beautiful views. I walked the length of the river for quite a while until a foot bridge took me across to the other side and I landed in a working class neighborhood that also featured a massive, ornate government building that looked like something from colonial-era Canada.

The Spokane River cascading beautifully through downtown.

I made my way back to the city center and wandered around amongst the shops and bars. After another thirty minutes of walking I had worked up a hunger, and managed to find a food hall with a variety of stalls and restaurants offering everything from Burmese food to pizza and gelato. I opted for a slice of cheese and a Coke and enjoyed my linch while people watching.

With lunch completed and loads of walking in already by midday, I found myself getting a bit sleepy in the afternoon sunshine. I dialed up a Tigers playoff game on the satellite radio, pulled into a park along the river and proceeded nap fitfully for the next couple of hours. The Tigers got a surprise win, I got some rest, and the afternoon hummed along gently.

By the time the Tigers had wrapped up a series win in a comeback against the Astros, I had found a second wind. Now, with about 90 minutes left before I needed to begin load-in at Zola, I headed out to the campus of Gonzaga to see the veritable birthplace of one of America’s most famous singers.

Bing Crosby’s childhood home sits right on the main campus of Gonzaga University in Spokane. The house was originally built on a plot of a Jesuit land that was sold to the Crosby family. In the 1980’s, the University bought the home and property back from its then owner to make it a historic site and museum.

The Bing Crosby house at Gonzaga University in Spokane, WA

Crosby was America’s most acclaimed and successful singer for decades. He also appeared in myriad films, won an Academy Award for Best Actor and was a massive star throughout the world. In Spokane, the humble Sears & Roebuck kit-house in which he grew up is now a shrine to his body of work and legacy. The small collection of artifacts is well displayed and thoughtfully curated, and includes all of Crosby’s Gold and Platinum records as well as his Oscar. There is even a small section near the end of the tour that addresses allegations that Crosby was an abusive father.

My guide was a young senior at Gonzaga who had only learned about Bing after getting the job as a docent in the home. We talked about Bing’s life and career and then headed into a long discussion about separating the art form the artist. It was a fascinating talk with a smart young woman who seemed genuinely interested in her local past. She asked why I was in town, and upon learning that I would be at Zola, she said she’d do her best to make it out. Very sweet indeed, but I was not holding my breath.

Splitting from the Crosby home, I arrived at Zola, around 4:00 for an early two hour set. Zola is beautifully decorated with vintage amusement park equipment, eclectic, antique lamps and repurposed ephemera and equipment. The bar is gorgeously lit and well stocked with a variety of quality spirits. Harrison (I think?), the bartender and I exchanged pleasantries and he was kind enough to prop the front door open and clear a path to the stage for my load-in. While I brought my truck into the venue, Harrison was busy at work cooking me up an old fashioned.

The charming exterior and interior of Zola in Spokane, WA

I made my way back to the bar and savored the cocktail after getting the stage and merch areas all set up. While I tipped back my glass, I crafted the two setlist that I would need for the night and prepped myself for a double shift on stage. The set began at about 5:30 to a relatively quiet bar room at happy hour. As I shared songs and stories, the space slowly began to see more patrons arrive. All of the folks in Zola listened with a degree of intention, not common in bar settings, and they applauded enthusiastically after each tune. It felt nice to win over a room so quickly.

As I began to dissemble my gear after the show, a couple of folks from the small but appreciative audience came up to snag shirts and CDs. I must admit that I am incredibly proud that no matter how small the audience and how far away the gig, I have sold merch at every stop on this tour. That feels like a sign that I am doing something right, especially in some of these rooms where I am an entirely unknown commodity.

I thanked the kind folks at Zola and bade them adieu. I had miles to make before sleep. I continued to head west in an effort to reduce my drive time in the morning to North Cascades National Park, which is tucked in the far northwest corner of the lower 48.

After driving until I could no longer keep my eyes open, I stopped at a roadside motel for a few hours sleep. I was back at it before dawn the following morning as I raced towards Cascades in the hopes of getting half a day on the trails before hightailing it to my gig in Bellingham that night.

The drive across central and western Washington was sublime at sunrise. With almost no other traffic on the road in either direction, I was left in complete solitude to tool across the varied, desolate terrain. The drive along US Hwy. 2, which runs all the way from Everett, WA to Sault Sainte Marie, MI in the Upper Peninsula, was a therapy session at 70 miles an hour. I soaked in the sunshine, inhaled the fresh air, and worked my way to Cascades.

Just some of the glory from North Cascades National Park

Upon arrival at Cascades, I was surprised to find the park virtually empty and the Ranger Station closed for the season. I secured a map and stamped my National Parks Passport book with the Cascades stamp and began to conjure a plan for seeing some natural beauty before splitting for Bellingham. I began with a two mile trail along the Skagit River. The Skagit pours down from the Cascades towards the Pacific Ocean and along the trail I hiked it was forceful and fast, even in the drier Fall weather.

Over the course of four hours, I saw no more than half a dozen other people as I lost myself in the pine and spruce forest and listened intently to various birdsong. The sun occasionally made its way to the forest floor when unencumbered by massive tree growth. The smell of spruce and cedar permeated the area like a heavenly perfume laid upon the land just for my own enjoyment.

I kept an eye out for wildlife, specifically the otters and marmots that are known to frequent the banks of the Skagit. Sadly, on the morning I was there, the otters were busy with tasks in other sections of the park. I looped on to a side trail for another mile and half to take in a couple of views of the Cascade Mountains just off of the river. I found a creek coming down from the peaks that emptied down the trail into the Skagit. The water ran gently over a bed of round rocks as it has for millennia. I stood, watched, listened, and breathed. It was glorious.

As much as I longed to stay in the wilderness soaking in the glory of nature, I needed to hit the road to my home for the night in Bellingham, WA. I wound my way along the trail back to the car and made the 90 minute drive to the Schwienhauss Biergarten in downtown Bellingham. The commute was pretty and largely uneventful until I hit the metro are and got bogged down with some afternoon traffic.

I arrived at the Schwienhauss a few minutes before 5:00 pm and immediately noticed someone else’s name on the sign for the night. I felt a lump enter my throat. That story and more, on the next installment of the Tour Diary.

Cheers,
Matty C