Stuart Davis Map of Travels
Map of Travels
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2005 - Journal 12
Sunshine Needs Rest As Well...

My third visit to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, was worth the weeks and months of travel, if only to reach such glorious
country; certainly one of the nicest regions in the northwest and possibly in all of the U.S.

My visit was five days premature (I have a predilection for being early. It’s not unusual to arrive a half hour ahead
of time and then wait, usually reading what’s at hand, until the clock strikes the appointed hour. Let me say there
are times when I think it’s a curse).   

I left Abbotsford, B.C. Early in the morning before breakfast, saying goodbye to my new friends, Nathan and Sarah
and motored to the border crossing. Within minutes I was back in Sumas, Washington located in the Nooksack
Valley near the foothills of Mount Baker. I was determined to visit Seattle center and see the sights. I decided to
forgo, for the moment at least, the fast way and remain on local roads. Route 9 from Sumas led me south to Sedro-
WoolIey and Route 20.

Early morning mist gave way to a bright sun as I shared the local roads with logging trucks carrying enormous loads
to the mill. Traffic was slow so I decided to follow Route 20 west to the Interstate to allow time for a Seattle visit. I
took the first city exit off I-5 and in circuitous fashion made my way to city center, moving closer to the Space
Needle with every turn, where I found metered parking for motorcycles nestled under the shadow of the tower. The
view was spectacular as one can imagine. With the weather co-operating, visibility was forever. The Cascade
Mountain Range to the east and the Olympic Mountains to the west with Puget Sound at my feet completed one
more travel dream.

The Northwest excites me like no other part of the country and it wouldn't’t surprise me if someday I called it
home. An hour later I was back on I-5 South and within minutes headed for the I-90 East exit ramp.       

Late that afternoon after dodging a few showers and a stop in North Bend for lunch, I found lodging at a Motel 6
west of Spokane. It was late afternoon on a very warm day and I was ready for a long shower. I was invited to spend
a week with my friend Joanie Dwyer (after her sister Marti and family left for their home in Phoenix). Actually I
was happy with the overlap, as it allowed time to visit with Marti, husband Gil and son Derek. I’d spent time with
them last year at their home in Phoenix and with no plans to ride to Arizona this year was glad to reconnect in
Coeur d’Alene.  

The following morning, I pointed Sunshine east past Spokane and Post Falls, to the Motel 6 in Cd’A.  I called Joanie
announcing my presence and an hour later Joanie and Marti arrived at my door. They were headed for an afternoon’
s boating on the lake and asked me to join them. Gil and Derek met us at the Marina. Judy Pearson, Joanie’s twin
and her partner Lynne Jeffers were our hosts for a laid back afternoon of beer, sunshine and plenty of water.

The next day Joanie had a horse show to photograph so Marti and I tagged along to assist. I became the gofer, a
very important job; dedicated to making sure everyone was watered and fed while Marti downloaded Joanie’s digital
photos into a laptop program that produced contact sheets for customer viewing.

The entire shoot was so 21st century compared to just a few years ago when customers had to wait a few days to see
the proofs. As a retired photographer I can say unequivocally that shooting film is a great deal more stressful. Did
the camera work? Were the exposures correct? Did the lab screw up the film? Will the customer be happy with the
results? Is my hair turning grey with all the stress?

Digital has its own idiosyncrasies but one can see the results immediately and make corrections. I consider it the
greatest improvement in photography from the time I began taking pictures in 1943 with a Box Brownie (with only
two shutter speeds . . . Open and closed) as a thirteen year old. The best feature of “picture taking” in the “olden”
days was (and still is for the lucky few who still shoot bxw film) the art of “picture making;” standing at sink in
hushed yellow light, hunched over a developer tray watching with wide eyed anticipation as a blank sheet of photo
paper slowly comes to life; the image growing stronger and stronger until it became a beautiful face, a wonderful
landscape, horses galloping, or . . .  gasp . . . a self portrait. Even now after years away from a darkroom, I can still
feel the magic!

Joanie and I made plans to fish a small lake near Sandpoint, a nice town forty-four miles north of Cd’A on US 95.
We stopped at a local Orvis sports emporium to buy a one-day fishing license and then headed north for a brief visit
with the friend of a friend. Lyla Hunt called earlier to explain that her pal, Robens Natolitan, was a dear friend who
should be on my short list of important people to meet. So Joanie and I rode up to Sagle (more a hamlet than town)
to find Robens and her husband Tom, living on ten acres of woodland, in a dome house. Robens was a gracious
hostess and treated us to a great vegetable and fruit lunch, a tour of the property and then dessert at the
Powerhouse in Sandpoint. Both folks are artists and wanted Joanie and I to see their displayed work. The
Powerhouse today houses the Festival at Sandpoint; a restaurant with interesting decor that displays bits and pieces
of electrical hardware of its former life. The rest of the building has been remodeled and the new office space rented
to local businessmen. It was a most pleasant afternoon that ended to late to fish. I hope the fish appreciate our
absence; safe from our hooks for another year!  

Auntie’s Bookstore in Spokane provides, as part of it’s cultural/social event’s calendar, the opportunity for authors
to present their books . . . a bully pulpit to expound and share their writings with . . . Its’s hoped . . . an interested
public. Joanie, acting as the point person, spoke with Lois Hughes, Events Coordinator about my book and asked if
she’d be interested in talking with me about an author presentation. Lois was agreeable so several days after I
arrived we rode Sunshine to Spokane. I met with Lois, showed her my book and a 101/2 x 16 poster of the cover.
She was interested enough to buy three books, on the spot, and agreed to schedule me for November 18th, six days
beforeThanksgiving.

Later that day Joanie and I had lunch at the Davenport Hotel, one of our favorite places to eat. I’ve talked about
this grand old lady and great food in previous journals. Last year on a visit to Spokane we stopped at the hotel for
the first time, riding Sunshine into the hotel’s valet parking entrance. One of the attendants approached, looked us
over and shaking his head exclaimed that Sunshine’s appearance was “a first” and directed us to a VIP parking
spot. All that attention and good food as well.  

The next evening we returned to Spokane for an evening of jazz at a club called Ella’s, so named I was told, in honor
of Ella Fitzgerald. We climbed a long set of stairs to the second floor, seating ourselves in a large, comfortable room,
with table and sofa seating. The dark wood paneling in the muted light added to a comfortable, clubby atmosphere.
We ordered white and red wine and settled in to hear some piano jazz. We sat next to a window facing a large brick
building sited across from Ella’s entrance. Projected on the brick façade, now used as a large movie screen, was a
Charlie Chaplain silent film. So there we were listening to great music, having a wonderful conversation, sipping
our wine and watching a silent film two stories tall. Oddly enough it was an interesting counterpoint to Ella’s moody
sweetness. Certainly a night to be remembered. I do look forward to another evening of jazz at Ella’s in November.

The book presentation will occur too late in the fall to ride all the way back to the northwest. So . . . Sunshine will
remain in Florida having a well deserved rest as I fly northwest for my date with book destiny and to share a
Thanksgiving with Joanie and her family.

It will be a bit strange to be walking instead of riding but my yellow companion will be truly at rest for the first time
in nine months.

I finally had to leave Joanie and her exceptional family and make my way west to Hillsboro, a suburb of Portland.
The four hundred mile ride along the Columbia River Gorge was the warmest I’d endured in three years of travel. I’
ll save that for next time.
FOLLOW THE YELLOW LINE
Motorcycle Touring with Stuart Davis and His Side Car
www.followtheyellowline.com