Sprung At Last

  • The Divorce
  • The Dating
  • Teen Tales
  • Dog Days
  • A Long Story
  • Cooking
You are here: Home / Archives for Idaho

To Idaho We Go: A Town Called Wallace

07.17.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

In the middle of the night, we are awakened by loud voices outside … Not sinister, mostly giggly and girly. It’s two am. They need to shower. The plumbing isn’t quiet. It clangs. They chat.

Two turns to three and I lie awake.

Eventually I fall asleep, and wake again in the morning: nine am. Too late to do anything. We can’t bike, as The Child’s bike tires need to be inflated, we need breakfast, we need directions, and so on. We have plans to go garnet mining, but that, too, is out: it’s too far to get this late of a start.

I force myself out of bed. My whole body aches. Especially my right leg, the one nervously pressing the gas pedal the entire day before.

I wake the child. We head out to the diner with the spaceship in front, and they bring us a tasty fried breakfast. In between eating that and purchasing a harmonica, we decide to do something else. The day is slipping away.

The Child chooses zip lining, so we bike over to the place, and learn that although there’s no age minimum, there is a weight minimum: ninety pounds.

I’m not sure how much the child weighs but if I could describe her in a word, its teensy. I’m pretty sure that the pixels needed to generate the word teensy on your computer screen weigh more than she does.

The Child is crushed. I just ate a big breakfast, she says hopefully. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t think she ate twenty pounds worth of eggs.

I suggest the mine tour. We’d been told that there was a mine tour where you could pan for gold at the end, but apparently that’s the one in another town, which I’d have to drive an hour to get to and – well, no. We hop on the trolley for the local tour. The Child says hello to the other child on the tour, a large girl about the same age. The girl does not reply.

We find ourselves at the entrance to the Sierra Silver Mine. A retired miner leads the tour.

The mine is cold. I guess we should have expected it, but we didn’t and so didn’t bring any warm layers. The Child huddles against me for warmth. My arm starts to hurt and I can’t take pictures – mostly because of my aching arm, but also because I can’t quite work my new used camera. I take several blurry pictures.

It drips in the mine. She shivers.

She says, I want to be done. I think I’m going to throw up.

The miner turns on the equipment and we are blasted with noise. She weeps.

He turns on another jackhammer-loud machine. She sobs.

The miner doesn’t notice, but the other girl does, and gives The Child a mean look that says “Baby.”

I think, I bet you didn’t have any trouble getting on the zipline.

Finally, we are done. We go back to town. We stop in a tea-shop-slash-antique-store, and order tea.

Each table in the tea shop is a period piece, set with period china and silverware in assorted patterns. My tea cup is more than a bit dirty, and as I’m trying to decide whether I have enough energy to ask for a replacement, The Child discovers a rack full of vintage hats.

Excuse me, she says to the waitress. Can we wear those hats? While we eat?

Of course you can, comes the reply.

The child chooses a fashionable black brimmed hat with gold trim and Minnie Pearl price tag dangling from it for herself. For me, a cherry red broad-brimmed hat with red flowers and a long red veil. I look like an old movie that’s been badly colorized. The child looks adorable.

My tea arrives and is unnervingly cold, even though I just watched the girl heat it. The Child dives into the accompanying tray of sweets, price tag fluttering about her head.

There is a pair of costumed mannequins seated at the table next to us.

A woman walks by, and mistakes us for mannequins.

We love this place! We practice mannequin poses to fool other passers-by.

We don’t fool anyone else, but we do get a lot of compliments on our fabulous hats, so we decide to wander the antique store.  I am thinking I will have to spend the time hovering over The Child, saying, don’t touch, don’t touch, but instead she wanders off and I overhear her talking to salespeople, learning about old waffle irons and rustic tools and looking through albums of unidentified antique photos.

We leave with a vintage hand-crank eggbeater and a 1914 toaster.

Day one, and we’ve already found the best souvenirs in town.

Categories // All By Myself Tags // Idaho, pixels, Wallace

To Idaho We Go: Road Trippin’

07.16.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

We hit the road a bit late. I was aiming for nine; we left at eleven. I’m pretty sure the garage door was down when we left. There are two garage doors, and I’m positive one of them was down – the spring broke a couple of months ago and it hasn’t been raised since. The other one? I’m pretty sure.

I spend much of the ride looking out the rear view mirror at the bikes I have strapped to the back of the car in the bike rack that I mounted all by myself. I replaced my marital suburban assault vehicle with a zippy little used Mini – and then had to get a new bike rack for it because I discovered the universal bike rack left behind by The Departed was missing some key parts that would allow me to mount it to my Mini without ripping the rear door off. This new rack, which the guy at the bike rack store told me he “wouldn’t accept any responsibility for resulting damage” for as he tried to sell me $1,000 worth of custom-installed hitch-mounted bike-rackery.

The bikes wobble a lot. I stare at them and will them to stay attached to my car.

Every so often, I pull off the road and tighten the straps.

Then I get back on the road and go a little slow. Everyone passes me. I want to be excited about the ever-increasing speed limits in my zippy little car, but instead I am fixated on the bikes, mounted on the back. Possibly damaging it. Probably about to come flying off and cause an accident.

I discover I am starving. The Child – too afraid to speak for fear of breaking my concentration, which she has realized is the only thing keeping the bikes on the back of the car – agrees. She is starving too. We’ve been on the road for three hours. She never had breakfast.

I’m a menace to other drivers, and a bad mother too.

I pull off at a town called Ritzville. We’ll have a fancy meal,  I tell the child. Ritzy.  That’s what Ritzy means.

There’s a sign for the Top Hat Motel. I’m thinking, Fred Astaire probably owned that place once. There’s another sign, for a historic district. This is what I came for: Smallville.

We drive by what seems to be a bike swap. A guy in a wifebeater is selling puppies. A gap toothed child stares open-mouthed at our car as we pass.

No stores are open.

Mommy, I don’t think there is any food here, says The Child.

There must be, I say. I’m thinking, if I can keep bikes attached to my car by sheer force of will, surely I can make food appear when I need it – preferably a 1940s Luncheonette counter with chrome trim. It must be here somewhere.

Mommy, I think they film Hoarders here.

I  watch the bikes sway from side to side as I make a u-turn and we head back out of town. A small bird-like thing races in front of me in the road.

A quail! shrieks the child.

You sure you don’t want to eat here? I ask. They have quail. It’s a delicacy.

She glares: I don’t eat quail. That’s meat.

Not that quail, I think.

A bit further up the road, we pass an uninspiring town called Sprague, and a diner that bills itself as “The Home of the Viking Burger.”

I wanted Fred Astaire in Holiday Inn, but I’m pulling up to a truck stop.

I don’t eat burgers, says The Child.

I bet they have grilled cheese, I tell her. We’ll tell them to hold the burger.

We sit down at a table in a place that was last decorated during the Johnson Administration. The child orders fish and chips, which makes me nervous. We’re pretty far from both a body of water and a major hospital. I order the safest thing I can think of, a burger and onion rings.

They are the best onion rings I’ve ever eaten.

Mommy, my fish is really fresh,  says The Child. Please tip him extra.

We’re ecstatically happy.

We continue driving.

We are passed by a car with Illinois plates, and immediately after, passed by a car with Wisconsin plates.

Yo, my Midwestern peeps! Peace out! Shrieks The Child.

I turn on my 1970’s disco playlist and we sing along. We seat dance to Night Fever. We wave arms to YMCA. We thank ABBA for the music.

In Spokane, we pass Thor Street, immediately followed by Freya Street. We are bitterly disappointed not to find Valhalla Avenue. We vow to return and quest for it.

We cross the border, and somehow, everything becomes … beautiful.

It looks like Washington, says The Child.

No, it looks different, I tell her. The trees are different.

No they’re not, she says. If you had even a basic knowledge of trees, you’d know that.

Well, I say, fortunately I am unburdened by knowledge of trees or other flora. Isn’t it pretty?

They are but you’re still wrong.

And then finally, we pull off the freeway and into downtown Wallace.

We have no trouble finding our motel: it’s the one with the spaceship parked in front of it. It was last decorated during the Eisenhower Administration.

We check in, and go to the diner next door where we order dinner: a double scoop ice cream cone and a root beer float. We eat them on the spaceship.

It tasted like childhood.

Today I learned: You can go home again, if you know where to look.

Categories // All By Myself Tags // biking, Idaho

Fun on a Budget: To Idaho We Go

07.01.2012 by J. Doe // Leave a Comment

When I was married, I enjoyed one of the few perks that I have ever derived from the marital union: Being able to afford the sort of nice vacations you can afford on two decent incomes. Travels with my first husband included Rome, Tuscany, and a month in New Zealand. With my second, once The Child was old enough to travel easily, it was Belize and Paris.

This year, though, I am on just one income – one that is stretched to the limit trying plug all the holes in the dam between me and financial ruin, the debts and bills The Departed so generously left behind for me to deal with, alone.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t worry too much when The Child’s passport expired last month: She won’t be needing it any time too soon.

But at some point, I realized I need to get away. That point was when my coworker suggested maybe I could use “a bit of a break.”

I cast about for ideas, and rifled through the pile of maps and brochures I acquired at the Seattle Bike Expo. And then I formulated a plan: Idaho. Specifically, the Idaho Panhandle.

I know what you’re thinking: Potatoes. It’s an obvious thing to think, what with “Famous Potatoes” on all the license plates. I didn’t know much more about it either, but a little bit of online research and I learned that not only does Idaho have potatoes and some wicked cool bike trails that are easy enough for even me to handle, it has the retro town of Wallace where you can still eat at a drive-in and stay in an space-themed motel.

I could use a few days in Smallville.

And here’s something else they’ve got in Idaho: Garnets.

There are two places in the world, it so happens, where star garnets may be found: Idaho and India. Who knew?

Not only do they have them, the website says, but you can pan for them yourself. People find garnets as big as golf balls. Or so it says on the intertubes.

Note to Idaho: You might want to consider a new license plate slogan. Glittering Garnets, perhaps?

Now this is all sounding too good to be true. I’ve been spending all this minors schlepping around the planet, and the whole time I could drive through a time warp, and mine garnets to boot?

I call and ask, is this for real? It turns out e garnet mine is run by the National Forest Service, and the park employee tells me – yes, it’s for real. $10 for me, $5 for the kid. We can pan all day.

But, do people really find anything? I ask.

Yes, of course, she says, but you are limited to five pounds each, per day. If you want more you have to come back a second day.

Five pounds?

I ask a few more questions about what we need to bring , which is not much: just lunch and ziploc bags. “They work best for carrying out your garnets. We don’t provide bags.”

Good to know. To Idaho we go.

Categories // All By Myself Tags // Idaho, single

  • « Previous Page
  • 1
  • 2

Connect

  • Bluesky
  • Email
  • RSS
  • Substack

Subscribe to hear more from Sprung at Last

Loading

Top Posts & Pages

  • Momofuku's Ginger Scallion Sauce
  • Rhubarb Sour Cream Muffins
  • Blueberry Focaccia
  • Fannie Farmer's Banana Bread
  • Tuna and White Bean Salad

Recent Posts

  • Herbert Hoover’s Sour Cream Cookies
  • Ricotta, Lemon, and Blackberry Muffins
  • Deborah Madison’s Potato and Chickpea Stew
  • Richard Nixon’s Chicken Casserole
  • A Room at the Inn, Part 5

Tag Cloud

apples baking bananas beans biking breakfast candy cheese chicken child support comfort food cookies dating dessert divorce holidays Idaho IVF jdate kitchen disasters marriage match.com meat okcupid orange pasta pets pixels prozac random thoughts recipes reflections Seattle single single parenting snack soup The Alumni The Departed The Foreigner vegan vegetarian vintage recipes weekend cooking Wisconsin

About Me

If you’re just jumping in, you might have some questions, which I’ve tried to answer here.

Legalese

Legal information is here
Web Analytics

Copyright © 2025 · Modern Studio Pro Theme on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in