The kids went to fully online schooling on March 16, and for a week, I seemed to think I needed to BE IN THE ROOM or general area to help keep them on task. And I did need to help keep people on task, but being in the same room meant I would have to listen to sniffles and stuff and I can’t live that way.
So the second week, I retreated to my sewing room and started on a quilt. I have a lovely stash of quilting books, so I picked one from one of my books, based on a log cabin design.
For unknown reasons except perhaps the need to power through, I didn’t take pictures of cut strips or lights-and-darks, but from my stash, a quilt emerged. This one, like the last, used fabrics from historical clothing projects and previous quilts. Libby and Christine play heavily into this one, just like the other.
I don’t have a fabulous design wall like Christine does. I don’t have a lot of open space. I went for the basement floor, which, because Tim was working in the living room (and two boys were schooling in the same general area), I had to share with the tuba player.
This luxury would be lost when the boys started developing major Hot Wheels tracks, but for the time, I had the space.
I finally feel like I managed to figure out “light” vs. “dark” on this one. It’s a little orange-heavy, but the orange is a pretty great fabric, and was one side of Libby’s quilted petticoat, a tradition for several co-workers over the years. There are a lot of great memories in here — Maria’s dress, Kelly’s, Susie’s, the Conner children’s dress, scraps from previous quilts or purchases at Quilts Plus as they were going out of business (I MISS THEM)… There’s nothing new in here.
The pieces work so well. I’m happy. Then I needed to call in the experts for design help.
or….
The experts (Libby and Christine, of course, and maybe also Yara, Christine, and Anne; I can’t remember) spoke, and the design was set. I spent a lot of time trying to balance the orange pieces because there is truly a lot of orange in this top.
Final (ish) layout
I then collected my stacks with hopes of not mixing them up or getting the pieces confused or turned around in the wrong way.
Took them back upstairs, sewed plenty the wrong way and had to redo them, but in the end….
Blocks sewn together
I put borders on this one, too, a light inner border and a darker border of a fabric I got in a craft swap with Little Angel Gowns friends over the winter (green and tan plaid). It is headed to the quilter and will be lovely when it comes home.
My favorite quilters are two women I met at work. Sorry, all the rest of you quilters, I love all of you, but Libby and Christine are tops. Mostly because of the amount of sewing we do together. A previous quilt is called “It’s All Libby’s Fault,” and my “Seven Letters” quilt from two years ago (purchased with Libby) was the same as one Christine had, so we did them together on our retreat.
We’ve had a couple opportunities to sew together, and it’s so much fun. Christine has a monster studio where we can quilt, and it’s really great to work together and have something come out of our retreat. Of course she has all the gadgets, too, and a huge design wall and all the rest.
This quilt would come from my stash — some things I bought with Libby before, but oldey-timey fabrics I had sewn with. I chose a variation on a classic pattern (thank you, Internet), and cut all my fabrics at home before leaving on the retreat. Very smart, me.
My supplies, notion, and machine, ready for work at Christine’s
This is one of those patterns that you sew strips and cut in to smaller pieces, intentionally chosen with the hopes of having something finished when I left. Just to the left (a few steps away) is the ironing board. To the right (through the throat of my machine) you can see Libby’s gorgeous baby quilt, of which she made a second for a second kid. The chair facing me is Christine’s station. So we are sitting together in the center, surrounded by the workspace, close enough to talk and laugh and complain and … whatever.
I’m impatient by nature, but having friends to work with makes time go faster. We started on Saturday morning and sewed through Sunday afternoon before heading home. I arrived on Friday night so as to start sewing right away in the morning. Which, of course, I did. Ha!
I am motivated by progress.
Christine’s design wall is the greatest thing ever. It’s styrofoam board, covered with batting, with trim around it to hold it in place. And it’s a great place to lay out your quilt for ideas — or to watch your project develop. This is a dream, but since I don’t have any bare walls in my room, it’s nothing more than a dream.
ALL THE BLOCKS
I worked pretty furiously on this thing and got all my blocks completed before it was time to go home. I really wanted to do this so that I could lay them all out and make sure the pattern worked, before I went home. Libby and Christine help with noticing if anything is out of place — too many “like” blocks together, too much of one color, etc.
All the blocks
One of the best things about sewing with scraps from something else is the walk down memory lane. The block on top? that crazy red/ivory with blue on the corners is Yara’s wedding quilted petticoat. The blue/cream is a youth volunteer dress. The red floral is Kelly’s dress-in-a-weekend. And the center is from It’s All Libby’s Fault. The purple corner you can see? That’s my Civil War wrapper. There’s the pink.and-brown from Elaine’s dress-in-a-weekend (our first outing) and the crazy blue lines from Ellen’s wedding petticoat (also a first).
Stitched together
I got the blocks all stitched together, and eventually added borders. Last week I finally got all the backings together for all of my quilts and am ready to deliver them to Christine for quilting, this and two others that I worked on during COVID.
There’s Rachel’s wedding petticoat. My Prairietown dress. Libby’s dress. Susie’s, Mrs. Conner’s, Sandie’s, the Conner baby’s, Kathleen’s… Lots of fun memories in there.
Recording a video about 19th century hygiene for Conner Prairie At Home
The shelves behind my desk are very distracting, full of exciting things, so when we pivoted to Zoom meetings, instead of letting my background distract (and because the mass of “things” made a Zoom background impractical), my Chunky Churn Retreat was perfect hanging behind me.
I’ll be picking up a couple of quilted quilts from Christine, since she got her machine back and did them up for me, and then I’ll drop this and two more (stay tuned to see them) and some for Libby as well.
But for now, it’s the story of the Chunky Churn Retreat.
The purpose of making these tiny, little doll clothes isn’t really just for the fun of “dress up.” The real reason to have these garments is to help our guest learn more about fashion in 1836 (specifically). So in order to really show what they wore — we’d better HAVE what they wore!
A linen shift
The bottom layer of any lady’s clothing (and any gentleman’s, too) is linen. The linen layer is important for cleanliness (the coarse linen is thought to keep the skin clean, and the whiteness of the cloth is a deep indicator of cleanliness), and besides, linen is wonderfully wicking — if a person sweats, the linen wicks the dampness away in a way that cotton doesn’t. Our doll isn’t going to sweat, but she still needs a linen layer. (* The overlap at the front isn’t a recreation of a period dress style, but our poor doll isn’t as opposable as the human figure, and you have to get her giant, unproportionate head through the neck opening.)
Stays: girls’ stays would be important for training the young lady to wear actual stays when she gets older. Stays, for those of us keeping track, are the early-19th century version of the corset. Stays generally don’t open in the front, while a corset will have a studded clasp to fasten at the front. Stays in 1836 would have a wooden busk down the front to “lift and separate” and provide support. My favorite stays are corded instead of boned — supportive but not rigid — and lace at the back with the tightening about halfway down the back, so the top and bottom can be adjusted separately.
Our doll doesn’t have a bustline to support, nor is she presented as an adult, so we’re not going to make her an adult set of stays. However, a nice simple set of stays will give our guests a decent idea of what would be expected. So —
Stays. Size, tiny. Lightly corded
A young girl’s stays would likely be little more than a canvas tank top that pulls on over the head, but, again, our doll doesn’t bend so well, so we’re going to fasten this up at the front (used hooks and eyes to make it easier to close).
Tiny corded stays!
All the underpinnings — like on real people — take up space, so we might have to swap some pieces in and out. Of course, tightening the stays doesn’t do much to change her shape — and you don’t really want to force a child into an adult form!
Bodice petticoat
Our doll needs a petticoat under her clothes. This bodice petticoat provides a way to hold it up when the young lady doesn’t have a distinction between hips and waist.
Stay tuned.
There’s a daycap waiting for ribbon ties, a velvet party dress, and maybe a work dress? apron? bonnet? And Sara promises me some thoughts toward sleeve puffs.
I was never much of a doll kid growing up, despite my desire to be a “girly girl” and play with dolls and stuff. I got a doll for Christmas one year, a lovely baby doll with a chest of clothes and a bathtub and all. And, well, sort of… yawn.
For my fourth birthday, my mom made me a gorgeous velvet dress with pandas — and a matching dress for my doll. (This is not the doll with the bathtub.) I loved this idea, and, as you can see, had some lovely pictures done with our matching clothes. I really loved this dress, and I still have the doll version.
Some 20 years ago, dear friends of Tim’s family were living out of a trailer for the summer, building a church, and they happened to be just down the road from us. While Charles and Helen worked on the church, they also got to have some trips to local sites, and one of them was Conner Prairie, at that time the employer of my youth (I was then teaching preschool). Helen was charmed by the museum and loved the idea that I had spent formative years working there, and to commemorate it, she made me some doll dresses out of some fabric that I had.
This is actually the original baby doll that had the crate of clothes and the bathtub. The blue fabric was my second dress as a youth volunteer at Conner Prairie.The box contained the doll in a new dress, and several other dresses, including this cute red floral one, with underpants and a matching bonnet. Notice the ribbon tied around the waist of this one: the packing ribbon from a Gift Shop purchase! (*It’s worth noting that the box is a cake box from the now-defunct local supermarket chain, Marsh.)
Fast-forward to now, and the upcoming Fashion February, as Sara and I wrack our brains for something that our guests can do that relates to fashion but that doesn’t need a fashion expert to help with every day.
What if we had an 18-inch doll who could be dressed up historical clothing? Replica clothing in her size? Now we all know about American Girl (TM) dolls, but they don’t have an 1836 girl, so the clothes aren’t just right for our time period…
But what if we made some?
A basic 18-inch doll dress pattern, altered for the shape of the 1830s dresses. An 1830s dress definitely needs the trademark giant sleeve, drawn based on the original pattern for a short sleeve plus a long-sleeve “gauntlet,” and then drawn to match the giant sleeve pattern I have for a women’s dress.
The pattern pieces were not hard to alter. I cut out the pieces and borrowed an obliging Kirsten from my sweet neighborlady. Kirsten tried on the mock-up, and it was a success.
The bodice looks right, and the sleeve is spot-on!I did the first dress at work, having taken my sewing machine and set up in one of the cubicles that’s currently not occupied. I took my Featherweight to use at work because she is light!
The dress went together pretty well, and after adding hooks and eyes and hemming the skirt, Kirsten modeled the finished dress.
She loves it.
But no 1830s ensemble is complete without the proper layers underneath. In our case, we’re dressing a girl, so she needs a girl’s petticoat. Enter here the bodice petticoat!
I have several other items cut out awaiting construction, and still more that need to happen, including daycap, bonnet, apron, and some more dresses. Sara promises a tiny sleeve puff pattern to come soon. And Ellen says she’ll bring her doll, so that we can do her hair in a more 1830s-appropriate style. (Sweet neighborlady needs Kirsten to come back the way she left…)
A party dress! And a sneak peek at some of the fabrics that might become more of the dresses that we’ll use for our program.
Our fashion program will also include a self-directed “Go Fish”-style card game called “Check Your Drawers!” that has players trying to collect five items from the same time period’s wardrobe, as long as we get the art for the cards and are able to put them together. Fingers crossed!
So. I’ve never been much of a doll person, and the American Girl craze is just a little too young for me, but here I am, dressing a doll and building her an oldey-timey wardrobe that any doll lover will envy.
Which makes me think of one other doll with fancy dress clothes.
My Grandma Skelly made a number of these porcelain dolls, dressed in pretty dresses, and sold them at my Uncle Eddie’s shop in Atlanta, Indiana, in the 1980s, The Wood Treadle. My special doll wore purple flowers to match my purple bedroom. She has a crochet shawl at her neck and purple crochet shoes to protect her feet. Again. I wasn’t much of a doll person, but I’m so glad I have this from Grandma Skelly.
It started with a package of deep purple silk. And the approaching Merry Prairie Holiday at my employer. And a historic clothing manager who was swamped with all of the costuming for the upcoming Big Event (TM).
The color is a weave of hot pink and black. And it makes this beautiful purple.
But in order to get to the first night glory, we had to turn that silk taffeta yardage into something resembled a dress. And of course, Libby had ideas, because she has been sending me ideas of what she’s going to make her new dress look like. Pins from Pinterest filled my messenger inbox, but then there was one — well, two. Because it’s on these two sites.
This gorgeous dress is part of the collection at The Met! You can also see it here, on Frippers and Fobs.
Anyhow. Libby knows what she likes. So this is where we’re heading.
Libby brought scrap fabric. The goal here is, besides this dress, to also give her the pattern for the green-and-red cotton she bought years ago. Fortunately I had a pattern in just the right size to start with. The bodice was a perfect fit, though Libby wanted a little more coverage for the shoulder straps of her stays, so we just added a little to the neck opening. Then we started with draping and pinning and trying to create a great bodice!
A big rectangle, pleated into place, and then trimmed to fit the bodice, will turn into the pattern piece for each side. The inspiration dress has shoulder straps to connect the pleated bodice front to the back pieces.
Once we’d come up with the pattern, it was actually time to start cutting. Because we had made changes in the bodice lining, Sara provided lining fabric to cut the bodice — and surprisingly enough, she provided brown — and brown thread! I was kind of appalled, to be honest. Brown thread? But we looked at the options, and while the black thread “coordinated” with the black/pink weave, the brown thread vanished against the purple fabric. Who knew? (oh, Sara did.)
The brown lining is topped by carefully cut fabric pieces — the back mostly matches the original pattern pieces, and the front pieces are cut from the pleated templates. The lining shows at the center front, but we didn’t want to create a V-neck (the original isn’t a V, after all), so we cut a triangle of purple silk to stitch onto the bodice. I transferred the pleat markings to the silk and pinned all the pieces together, but then it was indeed time for another fitting.
Even if you have a dress form to build a dress onto, there’s no substitute for building pleats onto the actual body. Especially when Gertie the dress form has a very low bustline. All the pleats are pinned into place; I’ll tack them down later but let it be loose rather than tightly stitched down. There’s also a pleasant surprise when the piping around the neck is hidden behind the pleats at the shoulder in just the way I wanted.
The silk is glorious but fine — but I found in my stash a set of size 9 sewing machine needles, which is the right size for this fabric. Of course I can’t see the size on the needles anymore. Not even with the magical sewing glasses. Thank goodness for modern technology: I took a picture with my camera and then zoomed in on it until I could see the numbers on the shaft of the needle I was using. The smaller needles in my stash came from Grandma Skelly — the inheritance that keeps on giving!
The bodice gets sleeves. The sleeves are ginormous. For real.
For the skirt, we’re going for deep pleats. DEEP pleats. And a very full skirt. This fabric is 54″ wide, and our cotton dresses use 45″ fabric, so it’s not just “Let’s make it a four-panel skirt instead of three panel.” (Of course, in 1836, the measurement from selvedge to selvedge would be somewhere around 22″, but this is 2019 and I get to use what I have.)
My fuller-skirted dresses are four panels around, pleated or gathered into the waistband. Which, at 45″, is just under 180″ (less seam allowances). At 54″ panels, four panels will be 216″ — and that’s enormous. But three will only be 162″ — and that’s not enough. So I did three and a half panels — 189″ (less seam allowances) — which would then gather into a waistband with a bit of extra room in order to make this dress a little more flexible for multiple interpreters to wear (I am making it for the clothing room, after all).
Natural light from the window + artificial light from the hallway = weird color. Oh well.
I’m thrilled. It’s gorgeous. And it’s time for a final fitting and marking the hem.
The green ribbon belt is filling in for the ribbon that is ordered — a perfect gold moire. It’s amazing. (But Libby is having misgivings about the width between the front pleats. What she would do would be have them closer. But this is for historic clothing, so not just for her.)
So I took the dress home, marked the hem, and got started. But of course, I have something else in my stash — horsehair from the hem of a wedding dress I deconstructed for Little Angel Gowns. I had plenty to stabilize and give shape to the hem! PERFECT!
Oh. And I got all in my head over the pleats. So I took the waistband off the dress and redid it with the pleats closer at the front and more evenly distributed at the back as well. This dress gets a canvas bustle ruffle underneath to add to the fullness, especially since this Mrs. Campbell carries less “rear” than others.
The worst thing about getting better at this stuff is you know how to fix the thing that doesn’t exactly look perfect. And you know what doesn’t look perfect.
I didn’t mention the change of the skirt but Libby discovered it as soon as she put it on. And she loved it! Mission accomplished.
Of course, the gorgeous dress makes its debut inside while the Rowdies make a ruckus outside. But “Sophia,” “Naomi,” and “Lucinda” are good to go for the night away! Jamie and Libby enjoy opening night of Merry Prairie Holiday.
The debut of the silk dress was a hit! Each sleeve has TWO puffs — and the belt includes a gorgeous reproduction buckle — and did you see her hair? and her earrings? Of course the glow from the candlelight gives the picture perfection.
Also, I had nothing to do with Jamie’s ensemble. He’s a genius.
Oh yeah. I did sneak in for a peek. I love these people.
Every fashionable lady in 1836 needs a good bonnet. I have a couple. Which means, of course, that I need a new one.
Supply list: * Buckram for the base * Millinery wire for shaping * Silk fabric for covering the buckram base — one or two colors * Ribbon embellishments
I have a pattern which I previously used for my fancy green bonnet, which I’m fine with, so I just used it again. I found some blue-green silk fabric (possibly synthetic but it passed the burn test) and I had some white silk twill that I used before as the inner fabric (around my face) for the green bonnet. I ordered buckram and wire from my favorite supply house (corsetmaking.com) and went wandering through eBay and found the most gorgeous moire ribbon.
Assembling the base from buckram is pretty straightforward, though you have to really mean it to sew it together.
The hat top and crown, sewn together. Make sure when you sew them together that your edges are tacked down. Rough edges where they’re not tacked will show through the fabric. My assistant shows off the brim sewn to the crown. The buckram is still tending to curl, but it’ll flatten out.
Once the buckram is put together, millinery wire helps hold the shape for the bonnet. The wire can be bent to give the bonnet its shape and help it hold up! To sew the wire in place, you’ll need a very sturdy-weight needle with some length to it. For thread, you can use general purpose thread (doubled) or buttonhole thread. The wire goes around the top of the crown, the base of the crown, and around the edge of the brim.
I padded the top of the crown with a piece of linen fabric the same size and shape as the top circle, just to soften the edges, then tacked it down around the top edge of the crown. I then pinned the crown fabric to the top, then tacked the seam allowance to where the brim and crown connect. I then sewed the top fabric to the crown. (The fabric is a bluish-green, but does NOT photograph well.)
Crown and crown top stitched onto the base.
A blue-green brim fabric goes on the side of the brim toward the crown. Cut that out, tacked it on. Then I needed to decide what to do with the front of the brim. Use the same blue, or put on something contrasty? Clearly, I needed to contrast the front, so I dug out a silk twill that I had used previously on my green bonnet. But how to make it look neat? I’d like it to have a slightly gathered look, rather than just placing it flat on the brim. So I first took a piece of scrap fabric (it looks fun but has some metallic in it that makes it not work for oldey-timey land) and gathered it roughly to a piece of muslin cut to size. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was close to what I was going to do. Once I had it gathered about to the muslin blank, I cut the mock-up fabric to the shape of the blank, and used that as my pattern piece for the twill.
Scrap fabric as the pattern piece for my silk twill for the front of the brim.
Actually designing the look of the silk piece to the brim was… a challenge. I tried about seven different things before I came up with the final plan — pleating the silk into place, attempting to mirror the pleats on the front from right to left. It took a bunch of different efforts until I remembered the cool plastic clips my bestie Julie gave me. They were PERFECT for holding the silk in place, instead of pins that stick my fingers AND might snag the fabric.
These clips! Game changer!
Securing the fabric front to the brim was a little bit challenging just because the edges didn’t line up perfectly front-to-back, but I decided that I would cut bias tape from the blue-green to make the brim edge. Also, the weight of the clip around the edge really bent it out of shape. That’s okay, I’ll reshape everything when it’s all finished.
Top and bottom edges of the brim front, sewn in, and pins and clips removed. The edge where the front and back of brim meet is not pretty, but a length of bias tape will cover this perfectly.
The back of the bonnet has a curtain that covers the back of the neck and shoulders, keeping the sun off the fashionable lady and preventing the much-dreaded freckles. This is made out of the blue-green, and I’ve folded down the edges for hemming. I hemmed the three sides and then folded down the selvedge edge and ran two rows of gathering stitches to draw it up to the back of the crown.
Pinned down for hand hemmingStitching in the gathers, one fold at a time.
I love the look of these pleats, and I made the curtain long enough to actually cover instead of just flipping back like the one on my green bonnet. By stitching through the pleats into the edge, it lets the curtain swing freely over my neck when I wear it.
Look at how perfectly the curtain attaches to the back of the crown! By the way, that’s NOT the color!
I cut 1 1/2 inch wide bias from the blue-green silk to make the edging for the brim. While I was pressing this into shape, there was a bit of a disaster involving a cup with a little water left in it, my ironing board, my laptop, and my Tri Delta to-do list, but everything except for the to-do list seems to be okay.
The inside of the buckram base is lined with a linen liner. It’s carefully stitched to the edge of the front brim fabric and then to the edge of the curtain.
Stitching in the linen lining
The bias fabric is folded in half, with the fold edge placed at the brim edge. Then the front and back pieces are folded under and pinned. Front and back are pinned separately so that I can do each side separately.
Bias edge pinned in place
Once the bias trim is in place and sewn down, I’ll be ready to trim out the bonnet. I have some rather impressive ribbon trim. I ordered 2″ and 3″ moire ribbon in chartreuse-rose color. It’s really amazing.
The ribbon
The final bonnet will be unveiled later, but I wanted to share something other than just cycling. Because this is sewing and cycling, after all.
Our last morning started at breakfast at Silver Mountain Resort, then loading up our belongings (I am not sure, did I remember my toothbrush? or is it still on the counter in room 447?) for our last group departure.
Off my balcony at the Silver Mountain Resort. The red building to my right is the water park where I enjoyed the lazy river yesterday. There is a giant chess board, hot tubs (below on the left, out of view), and more. Wouldn’t mind more time to enjoy this place. They even have a gondola ride/tour!
James drove us to Mullan, Idaho, the easternmost point of the Trail of the Couer d’Alenes. From there, we would ride 33 miles west to Cataldo, with a stop-off in Wallace, the self-declared Center of the Universe. There’s a diner there where several group members got coffee (or ice cream. Is 9:30am too early for ice cream? No).
This point in the center of the intersection of Wallace is the Center of the Universe. Or so a mayor of the town declared, challenging nay-sayers to prove him wrong.Boarding my spaceship to head home!
It was chilly as we rode straight into a brisk headwind, which definitely made our downhill a little more challenging! But it was sunny and lovely.
The trail here runs roughly along Interstate 90, but it’s also pretty and follows the South Fork of the Couer d’Alene River. You do sort of forget the trucks are blowing by just a hundred yards away.
One of the things I really like about this trip was that we got a suggested reading list! Having read about this area, I was interested to see a memorial to those lives lost in the Sunshine Mine disaster of 1972. We passed it a couple times along the interstate, but the trail was on the opposite side of the road. However, crossing one of the intersections along the trail, I saw the memorial, so I ducked out of our riding group to pay tribute to the memory of the miners I had read about.
The miners lost their lives in May 1972 when a fire broke out in the mine. Toxic smoke and fumes prevented escape and caused the tragic loss of life.The miner’s headlamp is always lit.
I got back to the trail behind most of our group but pedaled my way back to them in time to gather for snacks at a park in Kellogg, where a pretty funny thing happened.
Yesterday, I received a care package of snacks from my great friends Anna and Julie. We’re being sustained pretty well, but this box of snacks was fun for everyone, and when I got into the van this morning, I told the group that the box contained 45 items, so each group member was obligated to eat three items. So James (our guide) was sorting sweet and salty items onto the table where he was laying out our snacks when he was set upon by BANDITS! Actually, it was two little boys whose eyes were like saucers as they watched him get out the food. Can we have some? Actually, it’s for my guests, sorry. Their moms had dropped them off at the park HOURS ago. What time is it? Is the person with the snacks here yet so we can ask if we can have some? Is she here yet? Can we have just one?
So when I pulled in, James pulled me aside, laughing. Yes, I told the boys they could pick something. Can we have two? Sure, guys. They sat in the gazebo and ate the snacks and asked a couple more times what time it was. Finally, Shelley answered, “Eleven o’clock on the dot,” and they suddenly jumped up and ran — to the city pool.
Not very many snacks were left after our break!
We got back on the road after those 19 miles to head 11 miles on to Cataldo, which was our last snack break before Kellogg on our long day. We were still facing the gusting winds — it made our ride even more challenging. But we pressed on!
We rode on to Cataldo, where we got off the trail (which is amazing, paved and smooth and beautiful) to take the road three miles to Cataldo Mission State Park. The road was more of a chip-and-seal, kind of rough and still into the wind. GEEZ, wind, trying to make us not sad we’re leaving?
The Cataldo Mission has a church built in 18something, using local materials and the work of the Couer d’Alene tribal members along with the Catholic priests. It has a lovely location overlooking the valley with mountains on the horizon. You can see it above.
MADE IT!
We had a brief tour of the mission church, heard some stories about wanting to paint the ceiling blue (back in the oldey timey times) so the Indians used huckleberries and blueberries to dye the paint blue… Hmmm.
Was this ceiling painted with paint dyed with huckleberries and blueberries? Hmmm. The detail was hand-carved, which was exquisite.
While we were in the church, our guides Raina and James were loading all of our bikes onto the van for our departure. My seat was taken off “not-Gina,” and everything was packed away. When we finished, we took off, driving to Post Falls and the Republic for lunch. This cute bike-themed restaurant served tasty food. Yum!
So we’re back to the airport, ready for tomorrow’s flight.
My favorite things? Probably riding 54 miles. Or riding every single mile of this trip!!!
In which it actually rains a tiny bit and does nothing to diminish our enjoyment.
I think you probably understand by now that part of this trip is amazing scenery, so that’s what today was about. Also, it’s about a new state as we drove into MONTANA to start our route today. This created havoc as our watches and phones and whatnot decided to get very confused over where we were and what time it was, Montana being on Mountain Time and Idaho being on Pacific time. Good fun!
We started our route with an optional 8-mile “pre-route” trek uphill from Saltese to East Portal, Montana. This route starts with a steep s-curve uphill to the “high grade” trail, and then a steady but not steep uphill ride to East Portal. We got one trestle and one tunnel to get us ready for the Big One, the Route of the Hiawatha, a famous trail through the Bitterroot mountains along the former Milwaukee Railroad.
We had one trestle along our “pre-route” trail. Fine crushed gravel on this trail was a little rough but easy enough to ride on. We also had one tunnel. Our guides outfitted us with bike headlights to light the tunnels, but this one really didn’t neat it. It was for the big one later.
Not all of the riders started at Saltese, but there was a small and determined group, and I managed to lead our group, going through the tunnel first, as they were taking photos at the trestle. That let me get this video of them coming through the tunnel.
Our group makes its way through the tunnel.
When we got to East Portal, Montana, the van and trailer were waiting for us. Raina equipped our bikes with rear fenders for what would be copious mud in the tunnels. The Route of the Hiawatha has multiple tunnels through the Bitterroots, including the most famous, the Taft Tunnel, also known as the St. Paul Pass tunnel. This tunnel is 1.7 miles long and passes through the Continental Divide! It’s also mucky, wet, and full of people, and with a gravel (no, not finely crushed gravel) bed. It was a little treacherous. I didn’t take pictures inside the tunnel. Sorry.
Did I mention this was the day I wore my rain jacket? It was.
Besides being dark and wet inside the tunnel, it’s also cold. This was the day to wear my rain jacket. It would also be chilly all day on the trail, and windy, too, and spitting rain. It would actually have a downpour while we were riding through this tunnel on our return trip.
The trail is 14.5 miles, all downhill, with a bus at the bottom to transport riders back to the lot just below the Taft Tunnel, so you do have to ride back through that tunnel to get to the parking lot. When we were coming back, it was wetter and muckier than before. Good fun. We were a mess.
After that tunnel, there were several more, as well as gorgeous vistas from the seven trestles along the route. It’s really amazing. The only downside is that the trail is ROUGH — rocks, not gravel. Some of the rocks are loose. It’s challenging, the rocks jarring the whole body. We’re at a 1-2% grade downhill, but it’s a LONG. WAY. DOWN. We have the option to turn around and ride back up or continue five more miles and take the bus.
The Bitterroot MountainsMake note of that trestle in the distance. It’s waaaaaay down there. We’re going to get there. Photo taken from the trestle in the distance in the previous photo. See the trestle way up there? That was the one I was on.
As I rode, it was becoming more and more obvious that this was going to be a downhill route for me. Getting back to the top — 14 miles uphill — was not going to be something I wanted to do. So we finished the ride down the hill to the buses, bought our tickets, and waited to head back up. GOOD CHOICE.
Shelley and I have NO REGRETS at choosing not to ride back up the hill.
It was a beautiful trail, and a very popular one. The line to get the shuttle back to the top took more than half and hour, and we watched two buses load before we got ours. There were families with little kids on bikes and in trailers, and there were tandem bikes, e-bikes, and a couple recumbent bikes. There were lots of mud-splattered butts, and we all that splattered legs when we came out the second time. (The fenders helped protect our butts at least somewhat!)
Back at the hotel, I ducked over to the indoor water park for a little lazy river. I’m really not all that sore (!!) but it was nice to unwind a little and use the amenities. This place is kind of huge, with several buildings, and the rooms are condo units, so I have a kitchenette and a balcony.
Then we were on our own for dinner, so David and Gail and I went to the Mexican restaurant in town. It was about a half mile walk, and it was not at all crowded, but there seemed to be only one server, a very pleasant young man who took some level of forever to get to us, and then the cook came out after a rather very much long time, apologizing all over himself, because he lost our order, but we were having a fine visit. No photos, you’ve seen family-run Mexican restaurant food before. It was yum and there was lots. If you’re in Kellogg, I recommend the place. Casa de Oro. (Last night’s restaurant, Moose Creek Grill, opened for our group on a night they’re usually closed. You should try them, too.)
Today began with breakfast at the B&B in Couer d’Alene, and then we loaded back into the van to head to our starting point: Plummer, Idaho, and the trailhead of the Trail of the Couer d’Alenes. There is much I do not know about the Couer d’Alene people, but this trail is partially on reservation land, and is the product of cooperation between the tribe, the government, and the railroad. The rail line was highly contaminated from the lead and silver mining here from the 1880s until the 1980s; when the mines closed, Union Pacific abandoned this line and, to summarize, there is now this trail. It has bathrooms.
The trail begins at Plummer, where we unloaded our bikes, applied sunscreen, visited the bathroom, and were on our way. (Most of the bathrooms along the trail system are just outhourses, but they’re very welcome when you’re hydrating!) The trail starts out with a glorious 7-mile ride at 3% grade — downhill. It’s really amazing. We’re along the shores of Lake Couer d’Alene. It was in the 60s with a light breeze and not a cloud in the sky. We had beautiful views of the lake — crystal clear water — as well as forests, flowers, and, later some river and swampy areas.
Our first major landmark is the Chatcolet Bridge. We stopped at a distance for a picture. If you’d like some statistics about this bridge, see this site.
Seriously, people. No jumping.
The bridge was great. The ride up to the bridge was steep, then flat, then steep, then flat. Imagine how much fun it was then to ride down the other side!!!!
(I tried a Breathe-Right strip for better nasal breathing. It fell off.)
I didn’t take a ton of photos through the day because it was all beautiful, but hard to capture, and besides, I had a lot of riding to do.
We stopped for snacks at 14 miles, then lunch at 32 miles at Bull Run. One of my tour mates suggested we should start a food fight and have the THIRD Battle of Bull Run. The people on this trip are great — everyone is super nice and friendly, and I have gotten to chat with several of my trailmates. Sometimes I ride alone, and sometimes I ride in a group of people. At one point, riding in a solitary stretch by myself — just me and the birds and the butterfly that crashed into my face — I stopped for this photo of the river. The beach is bright but I wanted to be sure to capture the colors of the water — the channel is the deep blue near the closer shore.
Anyway, today we had some fun conversations as we rode — after our long downhill, it was basically flat until a very slight steady uphill grade to the resort.
Some of our group stopped after lunch and loaded into the van to ride to Kellogg. We have a couple ladies who are mostly here for their husbands to enjoy the ride, and who are riding a little on the trail and riding more in the van, but this is a vacation, not a race, so we do what we’re comfortable with!
Eight-and-a-half miles from our lunch stop, we had a water stop at Cataldo. Several people thought about stopping at that point — including me — because our cue sheet showed the rest of the trail roughly uphill to Kellogg, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk 11 miles to finish up. But I did NOT want to tell people I didn’t make it all 50 miles, so off I went, slow and steady.
Me with my friends from Moline
I employed the magic cooling cloth for the last leg of the trip and boy was I glad (again) — much of the last part was in the direct sun. Along this section there are some signs marking the locations of various operations of the Bunker Hill lead mines — one of the major producers and employers in the state, as well as one of its main polluters. This book was one of the items on our reading list — I was almost finished with it but left it on the kitchen table when I was heading out Saturday morning. I’m pretty sure I know how it ended.
Turns out the “uphill grade” into Kellogg was somewhat akin to the Little Chicago Road grade — nothing to get upset over. SO GLAD I pressed on through, and just before 4pm, I arrived at the resort with Brad and Laura; Chase, Mark, and Patrick were with Raina the guide just behind! (A group photo of that will come later. It’s on Brad’s phone.)
I MADE IT! (That’s guide James making a photobomb.)
So today I rode 54 miles. It was beautiful, and I made it.
Stitching and Cycling 