Now that my kids are getting older, they are more willing to take a break from waterplay to explore park trails. And when we’re camping, it’s nice to take a morning hike (or paddle) and then head to the campground beach or dock when the sun is higher in the sky.

Also, older kids and teens need independent experiences, like venturing along a trail solo or with a friend. Nature inspires soul-searching, and anytime our kids can get more screen-free serenity and exercise, the better.

These are eight of our favorite regional lake parks that offer great hiking and swimming options for hot summer days. Please note that most parks prohibit dogs on the beach, so it’s best to leave your furry kid at home.

NORTH IDAHO

City Beach & Pend d’ Oreille Bay Trail (Sandpoint): Walk the flat 3-mile trail, out and back, which follows the shoreline of Lake Pend Oreille. City Beach has it all, with plenty of lakefront sand.

Farragut State Park (Athol): Beaver Bay Beach requires a steep downhill jaunt from the parking lot and restrooms, but once you arrive there’s plenty of lakefront, calm water, and trails to explore in the forest all around the bay. Trails are also accessible right from the parking lot.

Round Lake State Park (Sagle): An easy trail loops around the lake and the beach has two docks, paddle gear rentals, and a PFD loaner station.

Tubbs Hill (Coeur d’Alene): Hike the trail, which can be a bit rocky and rugged for little kids, but you don’t need to go far to find a small sandy beach spot for private playtime. Hike in with all of your stuff, but you’ll need to hike back to the trailhead to use a porta-potty. (Restroom available at nearby McEuen Park.) Other nearby swim settings are Sanders Beach or City Beach.

WASHINGTON

Bear Lake Regional Park (Chattaroy): Hike the trail around the lake. Trees and grass hug the shoreline, so there isn’t a beach—rather, there are cement steps down to the water, which starts at a depth of about three feet. However, there are some spaces between trees to access the water.

Fish Lake & Columbia Plateau Trail State Park (Cheney): Walk the paved trail and enjoy the calm lake, popular with locals for fishing, paddling, and beach play for kids. Park at Fish Lake Park and then walk up to the state park trailhead.

Liberty Lake Regional Park (Liberty Lake): The park has miles of trails to choose from and the day-use beach—though a smaller lakefront compared to other parks—has great sand, a dock and roped-off swim area, and plenty of lake for paddling. Spokane County Parks daily fee required.

Waterfront Park (Medical Lake): A popular park with a main parking lot that fills quickly, but the layout is sweet and lake water is spring-fed, so relatively warmer than larger lakes. Walk the paved Medical Lake Trail along the west shore.

This story was published in the Inland NW Family Outdoors Guide in the May-June 2021 issue.

For more swimming stories, visit the OTO archives.

The post 8 Family-Friendly Lake Parks for Hiking & Swimming appeared first on Out There Venture.

It took me two tries to complete the 130-miles of the Columbia Plateau Trail (CPT), officially named the Columbia Plateau Trail State Park. The first time, we rode the former rail line turned trail about one-third of the way before bailing in the tiny town of Benge, Wash. Our first mistake: we picked the wrong direction and rode straight west into a 20-30 mph headwind. And then our second, bigger error was not having the right bikes for the job. Our 2” mountain bike tires weren’t up for the task of plowing through the thick, loose chunks of railroad ballast rock that litter the nearly 100-mile, middle section of the trail.

A few years later, we were back for a second try on fat bikes with 4-inch, ballast-rock busting tires headed in the right direction: uphill but with the wind at our backs from Pasco to Spokane. 

Day 1: Pasco to Kahlotus

The first 15 miles of our early-spring trip flew by with excellent crushed-gravel conditions along the Snake River. Once at the Snake River Junction, riders have two options for avoiding 4 gated trestles that require a detour. For fewer surprises ride the paved highway east to Windust Park on the river where you’ll find camping, water, and restrooms (if they are open). A more adventurous option, at least when we rode the route in 2016, is to leave the CPT and ride another abandoned railroad line closer to the river that involved some boulder dodging and Russian thistle wading. At Windust Park we filled our water bottles (you might also be able to get water at a nearby farm) and left the river, climbing up the CPT to our first camp near Devils Canyon and the town of Kahlotus.

Day 2: Kahlotus to Middle of Nowhere

Dramatic desert scenery gives way to a slow crawl over chunky ballast rock on a long, straight stretch of relatively uninteresting trail between Kahlotus (water stop) and Washtucna, which at the time had an inviting café and watering hole. Another closed trestle blocks riders just to the west of Washtucna (a farm access road and short hike-a-bike regain access to the trail on its north side). Then it’s onward through a long stretch of rough ballast rock riding. Beautiful basalt formations; massive sagebrush; and wildlife sightings including mule deer, rattlesnakes, and badger help keep your mind off of the challenging trail conditions. Another blocked trestle after an hour or two of riding warrants abandoning the CPT again. Use your maps to detour around the private land surrounding the closed trestle on roads. Trespassing is illegal and could jeopardize the future of the trail for others. 

Legal camping and access to drinking water east of Washtucna can be challenging. Plan on stocking up on provisions for this long stretch through the middle of nowhere. You should be able to find water at the church in Benge (and possible camping in town if you ask). You can also ask for water at the grain elevators in Lamont. Despite the fact that there are some nice camping spots next to the trail, camping along the CPT isn’t allowed. You can, however, find in-town camping options as well as legal camping on BLM land at Escure Ranch and Fishtrap Lake. The town of Sprague a few miles off the CPT also offers services as varied as a store, bar, café, and motel if you’re looking for the comforts of home.

Day 3: Middle of Nowhere to Spokane

For the last stretch of ballast rock riding, you may run into swamp-like conditions west of Lamont. To keep your shoes dry, leave the CPT and pedal the highway into Lamont where you can regain the trail at the grain elevators. Once you’ve reached Martin Road Trailhead, in addition to being treated to an outhouse, your ballast rock biking experience is over, and it’s smooth sailing on crushed gravel surface through Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge to Cheney. Continue on the paved section of the CPT to Fish Lake, where a few miles of road riding will connect you back off-highway on the paved Fish Lake Trail all the way into Spokane.

Planning Your CPT Ride

If you plan to ride the trail point to point, this article isn’t close to a sufficient guide to the trail. Do your own online research, procure maps, and be prepared for the unknown and some adventure. You will need to be self-sufficient and carry all the gear, food and water, first aid, and tools you might need.

For a more relaxed and less demanding experience, explore the Columbia Plateau Trail in more pleasant sections on day-rides from the developed trailheads or towns. For more info, visit the Washington State Parks Columbia Plateau Trail page.

[All photos by Derrick Knowles]

For more inspiring stories, visit the OTO archives for stories about the Columbia Plateau Trail and bikepacking.

The post Bikepacking the Columbia Plateau Trail appeared first on Out There Venture.

The trail is a fantastic way to see parts of our state that we rarely get to see. Some may call deserts barren wastelands, but if you look closely, you’ll find that all deserts are full of life. Traveling at a bike pace of 10 miles per hour makes it easier to look closely than traveling in a speeding car does. I observed hawks, owls, coyotes, hummingbirds, numerous deer and even two bucks.

The sun-blasted desert landscape is a mix of cropland and scabland used for cattle grazing. The landscape itself changes in subtle ways. East of the Columbia River, the lush Crab Creek is a wonder to behold, even in the hot summer months. The wide, slow-moving creek feeds stands of feathery grasses and wildflowers, and it is a habitat for migrating birds, ducks and herons. To the south, the dramatic Saddle Mountain escarpment rises up like a dragon draped in sand.

The John Wayne Trail is a great way to see some of the rural farming communities scattered throughout central Washington. I rode through hamlets like Smyrna and bigger towns like Othello, Warden, and Lind. Smyrna was busy baling hay, and just outside Othello, I yielded to a convoy of giant combines driving down Highway 26. They honked their horns and waved to me.

After riding in silence on the trail and back roads all day, the noisy, busy highway shocked my senses. Away from highways, there is nothing but wind and light and the crunch of gravel under the tires. I tried not to rush, wanting to appreciate this landscape I so rarely bother to notice. I stopped often to jot notes and take photos.

Yet even on a bike it is possible to get in a rush, and still I rode past places I wished I would’ve stopped and looked more closely at. So on Crab Creek Road (the railroad ties are still present on this section, so you cannot ride the trail) near the end of the escarpment, I got off and walked the bike just to feel the solid ground and take in the haunting stretch on foot. I was exhausted and I’d found that pushing the heavy bike up even the slightest hill effectively conserved my energy when I still had hours left to ride.

With nothing else to do, I rode all day long, usually putting in more than 10 hours per day, riding 60-80 miles a day. I didn’t want to race back home, as I didn’t have anything pressing to get to back to, but it was exceptionally hot out – over 100 degrees. I had been worried about smoke from the record wildfires, but the wind had shifted, and Central Washington was clear of smoke that week.

On the evening of day four, I reached the fabled crossroads, the ghostly intersection of the two former railroads (the Spokane-Portland-Seattle Railroad and the Milwaukee Road). As far as I could tell by the weak signal on Google Maps, I was about 60 miles south of Cheney and half a day’s ride from the town of Lamont. The Columbia Plateau Trail crosses over the John Wayne; the former Milwaukee Road continues all the way to Tekoa on the Idaho border. But here I would hang a left on the CPT and follow the trail north directly to Spokane.

I unloaded the panniers and carefully picked my way up the steep embankment to the overpass. Looking up the trail, I discovered with dismay what looked like miles of the dreaded rail ballast. But this was why I rented a fat bike. Dropping the bags on the rocky trail, I slid back down, hefted the bike on my shoulder, and made my way back up again. At the top I collapsed, breathing heavily and feeling dizzy. I had ridden nearly 14 continuous hours, having left Warden at 6:30 a.m.

I set up my tent on the knobby rock and fired up my camp stove out on the trestle. Nearly out of water, I hesitated before using up the last drops to cook up a celebratory feast of dehydrated Kathmandu curry. On the trail, anything tastes delicious, but the curry ranked as one of the best meals of my life.

The sun was setting a dusty orange and purple as I sat on the trestle, my feet dangling over the edge, the aromatic curry steaming in its foil pouch. I had accidently thrown out my only spoon back in Vantage, so I shoveled the curry into my mouth with a long chunk of ballast rock. Stretched out into the muddled light before me was the trail I had just ridden: the John Wayne Trail. I did it alone, with no support, and I had reached the intersection with the CPT faster than I anticipated, riding through the highest temperatures of the year and with near-constant knee pain. I chewed a mouthful of curry, swallowed, and sighed. As darkness descended over the channeled scablands, I was overwhelmed with an intense satisfaction that brought me to tears. Out there, no one except the coyotes howling in the distance could hear me, and I doubted they cared. Their howls echoed as the sunset faded to a star-pierced sky. A huge meteor sailed across the horizon leaving a wake of blue stardust. I was overwhelmed and humbled by such beauty and solitude.

The next morning I awoke at dawn and broke camp, nervous about the heat and the chunky ballast. Day five was to be the hottest so far: 106 degrees. I was out of water, and riding on the ballast would slow me down. I set out north on the Columbia Plateau Trail just as the sun was about to peek over the eastern horizon. The ballast was shifty, sliding around like plates under my fat tires. The big tires helped stabilize me but it was still slow going. In places the trail surface was nearly overrun with tall sunflower-like plants and tumbleweeds that the fat bike easily plowed over.

This landscape proved to be one of my favorites. Deep channels had been worn into the basalt leaving high plateaus and mesas. Below the raised rail grade were circular ponds rimmed with lush grasses where cattle lounged in the shady bottoms, though some of the ponds had dried up into sandy flats. This was the channeled scablands, and I imagined the ancient Missoula floods raging through here toward the ocean thousands of years ago.

By 10 a.m. I was parched. I kept my mouth closed as the hot air dried my throat. I sucked on a pebble, which seemed to help, but it made my mouth taste like dirt. Then I found a disposable bottle of water lying in the middle of the trail. I reached down and picked it up. Though the seal was open, it looked clear. I smelled it, then tasted it. Satisfied it wasn’t urine or poison, I sent it down the hatch. I figured it had fallen out of someone’s bag, a bit of littering I was eternally thankful for.

A couple hours later I pedaled deliriously into the town of Lamont, only to find I had stumbled upon a modern ghost town. It was deserted. The only store – a mechanic shop – was locked up tight. I pedaled up and down the few residential streets, looking for someone in their yard, but not a single soul appeared. I finally spotted a water pump at the memorably named Bug-Tassel Park behind the little cinder block grange hall. I lifted the handle up and cold water gushed out. I knelt under its stream and let it soak me, rinsing three days of salt, sweat and grit off, this being the first such relief I’d had since Vantage. I filled a bottle and drank half of it in one gulp and then topped off the rest. I drenched my straw sun hat and set it on my head, and then sat on some grass in the shade.

I leaned back and breathed deep. I pondered phoning a friend and getting a ride home. I had no desire to ride ballast in the baking 106-degree heat, and I felt all my energy and drive quickly fading. I had run out of aspirin the night before, and my knees were killing me with every turn of the pedals. There were no more stores until Cheney. Suddenly my phone rang. It was my friend Jonathan. I admitted I was nearly done in, and he encouraged me to soldier on, insisting I was only a few hours from Cheney. He offered to ride out on the CPT and ride back with me.

I knew I would regret it forever if I didn’t complete the journey under my own power. I had come so far, and it would be ridiculous to bail half a day from the finish line. I reminded myself it was a mental game. Jonathan said he’d bring me a sub sandwich, and that sealed the deal. I got back on the saddle, my clothes already almost dry, and set off for the trail, though I ended up riding alongside it on Swift Road, the aptly named jeep track, until the ballast ended near the Martin Road trailhead.

A little while later I saw the “Entering Spokane County” sign, and I noticed the first pine trees I’d seen in 200 miles. Then I saw a figure in the distance, shimmering like a mirage. It was Jonathan. He was the first person I’d seen in three and a half days. We shook hands and he laughed in disbelief. “You just rode from Seattle! That’s so awesome.” “Yeah!” I said, “and I’m freakin’ tired!” We rode on a while, Jonathan peppering me with questions until we reached Amber Lake. We veered off the trail and coasted down to the boat launch and sat down in the shade under a willow. He brought out the sandwich and handed me a blue Powerade, which I guzzled in one gulp. I ate slowly. I had lost 12 pounds in five days, I discovered later – the JWT diet. Then I waded in and swam down to the cold water at the bottom of Amber Lake, rising refreshed and renewed.

The John Wayne Trail will stay with me for the rest of my life – the silence, the wind, the clink of pebbles beneath my tires, and the slow spread of dawn lighting up a vast expanse of desert devoid of people, yet teeming with wildlife even in the heat of August. I didn’t for a moment miss the bustle of city life.

I encourage everyone to summon their true grit and give it a shot. And no matter what, keep pedaling.

Follow Nick on his blog at www.nickoleum.blogspot.com.

The post A Fat-Bike Desert Odyssey: From Seattle to Spokane on the John Wayne and Columbia Plateau Trails appeared first on Out There Venture.