This list is being populated as I finish each hike and will be updated every Friday until all 50 hikes are complete.

Click here for the Complete Index of Northern Idaho: 50 for 50 Hikes

Upon my return home, I did a little research; this is what I learned.

Don’t Surprise a Moose.

Moose are like bears in that they can become defensive if surprised, especially when they have young. Make a little noise while outdoors. There are so many fun ways to do this, whether it’s wearing jingling bells, talking or singing, or, like me, playing a podcast on a mobile speaker.

Keep Your Dog on a Leash.

Dog chases moose → moose chases dog → dog runs to you → angry moose follows. Get it?

If a Moose is Present, Don’t Approach it.

If a moose is present, don’t approach it. Stay at least 50 feet away. If your presence causes the moose to stop eating, shift its body, or change its behavior in any way, you are already too close. Make sure there’s a tree or other solid barrier nearby you can get behind if needed.

In Fact, Leave the Area.

If it doesn’t know you’re there, quietly walk away.

If it’s aware of you, talk softly and slowly walk away.

Pay Attention to Its Body Language.

Are its ears laid back?

Hair on its shoulders standing up?

Is it snorting or grunting?

Stomping?

It might be preparing to charge. Get behind that nearby tree!

Don’t Climb Up a Tree – Get Behind It.

That nearby tree is to act as a barrier. Don’t climb up it. Moose can’t climb, but they can wait below it, trapping you.

If it Charges, Run – Preferably Behind a Tree or Other Barrier!

This is different than how to behave with bears. Moose typically will not chase for long. Additionally, running around a barrier is often effective because moose can’t easily change direction.

No Barrier Nearby, Bear Spray is an Option.

If a moose begins to charge and there is no barrier to run behind, bear spray is an option. When it’s between 20 – 30 feet away, pull the bear spray trigger for 3 – 4 seconds. With a bear, shoot it low, below the waist, but with a moose, which is taller, spray above chest level.

If a Moose Attacks, and There’s No Other Option, Play Dead.

Get down on the ground, cover your head, and stay very still. Show that you are not a threat. Be prepared for the moose to kick you with both its front and hind hooves. Prolonged attacks are rare.

Hopefully, none of us ever upsets a moose. They are beautiful creatures to behold. But it’s better to be prepared for how to react than to be unnecessarily anxious when we traverse common ground.

Want to dig deeper into moose behavior and safety? These are the sources I found most useful:

Appalachian Mountain Club. “Do You Know How to Respond to a Moose Encounter?” AMC Outdoors, www.outdoors.org/resources/amc-outdoors/outdoor-resources/responding-to-moose-encounters/.

Clarke, Julia. “After Several Moose Stompings This Year, We Ask the Question – Can You Use Bear Spray on a Moose?” Advnture, 11 July 2024, www.advnture.com/features/bear-spray-on-moose.

Idaho Department of Fish and Game. “Magnificent Moose.” Wildlife Express, vol. 35, no. 1, Sept. 2021, idfg.idaho.gov/sites/default/files/wildlife-express-moose-0821.pdf.

National Park Service. “Moose Safety.” Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve, 9 Feb. 2016, www.nps.gov/wrst/planyourvisit/moose-safety.htm.

Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. “The Truth About Bear Spray — It’s Not Just for Bears.” Medium, https://wdfw.medium.com/the-truth-about-bear-spray-its-not-just-for-bears-13191225129f. Accessed 23 July 2026.

On that particular trip, we wanted to hike Harrison Lake Trail (#217) in Boundary County. A local we chatted up at a post office recommended it as a “must see,” with a serene alpine lake in the Selkirk Mountains.

So, I searched online for directions to the trailhead, but instead I found a newspaper article that left my mouth hanging open. A moose had charged a man and his dog at a backcountry campsite at the lake. He’d shot and killed it. Access to the trail was closed by Idaho Fish and Game until bears could finish feeding on the carcass. Eek.

Five years later, in July 2026, I couldn’t help but think about that angry moose and those hungry bears as we arrived at the trailhead, after a slow drive on a rutted dirt road.

We had bear spray with us, and Ken assured me it would work just as well on a moose. Still, I couldn’t help wondering whether he was right as we wandered up a sandy path washed out by snowmelt. I also wondered whether I’d stumble over a loose rock and break an ankle running away from a charging moose.

Wait. Do you run from moose? Or stand your ground? I wasn’t sure.

To distract my mind and scare away forest creatures, I turned on a podcast, the volume up loud on the portable speaker in my pants’ pocket.

Expert tip: Do not listen to the podcast I Survived when feeling anxious in the woods. Try Hit Parade from Slate instead, or just put on some tranquil John Denver music.

We continued along the path. Stopping to admire the purple and yellow daisy-like petals of the Showy Fleabane, and occasionally hopping across rocks over small streams, until the path disappeared and before us lay a granite hillside. We climbed it easily: this was not shifting shale but a steady rock slope. At the top, the soft, well-trodden trail appeared again, leading us back into the shade of trees. We passed empty campsites, remnants of burn pits, and the occasional bear box for food.

Then we reached the lake: clear water encircled by a mountainside of stone, dotted with green conifers. It was quiet, save for the occasional twitter of a squirrel in a nearby tree and a pop on the water as trout chased mayflies.

Beautiful and private, it was the perfect setting for an ‘80s horror flick. Or for a pretty woman peeing in the woods to be chased by a moose into the mouth of a grizzly.

Nonetheless, we sat on boulders overlooking the lake: ate snacks, admired the view, then headed back down the two-and-a-half-mile moderately challenging trail. It was a lovely hike, one I’d repeat, perhaps with a fly-fishing pole.

When I returned home, I decided to find out whether bear spray is an effective deterrent against moose. You can read about that, and the best way to behave when crossing a moose’s path, here.

JUST THE FACTS: Harrison Lake Trail (#217)

• Distance: 5 miles (total out and back)

• Estimated Time: ~ 3 hours

• Elevation Gain: 1,430 feet

• Key Highlights: Crystal-clear alpine lake, granite slopes, potential for fly-fishing and back-country camping. Bring bug spray for biting flies.

• Difficulty: Moderate. An upward path with rocks to stumble on.

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Harrison Lake Trail? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Readers’ Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. Let’s build this community together.

Today, they’re my favorite vegetable. I microwave a package and gobble up every tiny green head for a snack. I order them as an air-fried appetizer with bacon bits at my favorite restaurant. My salad last Saturday night: shredded Brussels sprouts, dried cherries, crumbled gorgonzola, sliced apple, toasted pine nuts, and a lemon-poppy seed dressing. Yum.

Why mention this? It’s a reminder that our tastes and opinions can change. So it was for me, and my judgment of the Delyle Ridge Trail (#122), a 3.5-mile out-and-back trek outside Clark Fork, Idaho, 72 miles north of Coeur d’Alene, and 8 miles west of the Montana border.

I hiked this trail a few years ago. What did I remember of it? A horrible road to the trailhead: half pothole, half dust. Rusty nails sticking out of rotting wood at the peak, where swarms of ticks crawled up our ankles when we sat to enjoy the view. The highlight: identifying the tiny speck of green roof that is our house miles away, on the opposite side of the Clark Fork River.

I revisited Delyle Ridge this week because access to nearby moderate-to-hard trails in the Trestle Creek area, which can be completed in a day, is blocked while the county works to improve erosion and road conditions. I wasn’t in the mood to drive two-plus hours each way to reach other similar hikes.

To my surprise, it became my favorite of the six treks I’ve completed so far on my hikenorthernidaho50at50 journey. It helped that the road up had recently been packed and smoothed. No jolting bumpity-bumps or fear of flat tires.

What really deepened my appreciation for this hike was greater knowledge about local flora I gained in the interim, thanks to the Idaho Master Naturalist Program, I was enamored the moment I stepped past the trailhead marker into the quiet woods.

Thick wisps of Beard Lichen, used by Native American tribes to treat infections and wounds, draped the cedars. Thimbleberry leaves towered over the soft forest floor. Their ruby fruit was irresistible, bursting with sweet juice in my mouth. Huckleberry shrubs by my knees were dotted with tart, plump, purple delights.

The day was overcast, but the forest was vibrant. Decorated with sunshine-yellow St. John’s wort, red and neon-green Indian Paintbrush flowers, and maple leaves painted a fuzzy scarlet by harmless mites. Fallen trees from winter windstorms litter parts of the path, which is little wider than a game trail. It’s a paradise few visit. I almost hesitate to write about it, lest I invite hordes to come scavenge its treasures.

March on, and the trees and bushes recede. To the left and right, the land drops away, leaving air, clouds, and mountain ranges. It is not far, about a mile and a half, before the scramble to the peak begins. Here is the tricky part of the hike. There are a few false paths created by others who’ve tried to shorten the journey. I stuck to the winding switchbacks.

At the top, I felt like an eaglet flying for the first time. The world below: mountains lined with green-velvet trees, a wide river flowing past forever, the wild, for once, more abundant than the mark of man.

Imagine the view on a blue-sky day.

Plus, I saw not a single tick.

I descended, and drizzle fell, carrying the damp scent of the earth. There was a time when being wet in the woods would have bothered me. Now I reach out my arms, let the rain dance across my skin, and welcome the water during this season of fire.

This is one of the great gifts of aging, the chance to appreciate what once seems unremarkable, even a bit unpleasant. Plus, time to eat more Brussels sprouts.

JUST THE FACTS: Delyle Ridge Trail

• Distance: 3.5 miles (total out and back)

• Estimated Time: ~ 2 hours

• Elevation Gain: 675 feet

• Key Highlights: Lush cedar forest draped in beard lichen; abundant thimbleberries and huckleberries; open ridge views; quiet, lightly trafficked trail with downed trees adding adventure.

• Difficulty: Moderate with a steep scramble near the summit

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Delyle Ridge Trail? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. Let’s build this community together.

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The night before, a cough and runny nose had made sleep difficult. I’d originally planned a more challenging trek, but I wasn’t up for it. Besides, I’d heard from more than one person that the two waterfalls on this short hike (just over a mile round-trip) made it worthwhile.

Studies have shown that time among trees—green pine, fallen logs, the sound of water flowing over rocks—offers real medical benefits: enhanced immune cell activity, lower blood pressure, and reduced stress hormones. In Japan, this practice is known as shinrin-yoku or forest bathing. People enter the woods the way one might enter a day spa, intentionally opening their senses to the scents, sounds, and textures around them (Otake, 2025).

We parked in front of a wooden sign with a posted description of the hike that said it was “family friendly.” Scratching our heads, we studied what looked like a game trail on a steep embankment.

“Can’t be it,” we agreed.

Five minutes later, we spotted the trailhead 100 feet to the right of the sign. A wide, well-worn path, clearly visible once we’d taken a few more steps toward that direction.

We entered ancient woodland: tall, thick trees, skunk cabbage, ferns. The US Forest Service had placed benches at strategic viewing points along the route. Nature had knocked down conifers, leaving long natural bridges for children to climb.

Quiet, but for the soothing sound of the waterfalls in the distance.

Never has there been an easier trail to follow. Wooden overpasses above muddy patches, a single fork in the road with a sign directing toward the Lower or Upper falls.

We traveled to the upper falls first, reaching them after about half a mile. Watching the water cascade, I found it hard to resist taking off my shoes and dipping my toes into the clear river, baptizing myself in nature.

Instead, not wishing to risk wet feet inside dusty shoes, I took some photographs.

“How are you feeling?” Ken asked as I knelt, pointing my lens toward the fountain-like spray.

“Good,” I smiled.

We soon headed back. Followed the sign toward the lower falls. Not as wide, but still wondrous.

After finishing the hike, I can’t claim it cured my cold. I did, however, sleep better that night. My bedside table, less littered with tissue. No need for a lozenge at 3:00 am.

JUST THE FACTS: Snow Creek Falls Trail

• Distance: 1.5 miles (total out and back)

• Estimated Time: ~ 50 minutes

• Elevation Gain: 259 feet

• Key Highlights: Two gorgeous waterfalls. Wide logs along the path that call for children to climb.

• Difficulty: Easy. Take the kids and the dog.

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Snow Creek Falls? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. Let’s build this community together.

Reference:

For more on the science, including how phytoncides—volatile compounds released by trees—boost immunity, see: “The science of shinrin-yoku: Why forest bathing feels good” by Tomoko Otake, The Japan Times, June 21, 2025. Read here.

This is not just my way of saying they are practiced writers; it’s also my (admittedly sloppy) acknowledgment that many of them have a few more decades of wisdom and miles on me.

Recently, while we were discussing my latest hiking posts, one pack member, a playwright, asked, “How can seniors get in shape for walking?”

It was a good question, one I was a bit uncomfortable answering because the level of activity appropriate for one person, regardless of age, might differ for another.

But as soon as she asked the question, the room filled with murmurs of interest. Some were genuine, others a bit sarcastic.

“Yes, start a hiking club for those with hip implants and replacement knees,” one joked.

All agreed, however, it was a good topic for HikeNorthernIdaho50at50.com. After some research (and a lot of nodding from the group), here are practical, low-pressure ways to get started.

Remember: It’s always smart to consult your doctor before starting any new workout routine.

1. Locate a flat, safe place to walk.

Download the free AllTrails app. Type in your desired location and utilize the filter options to find easy, low-elevation, short walks in the area. It even has accessibility options such as “Wheelchair friendly” and “Paved.” Want to bring your pooch? Select “Dog Friendly.”

Alternatively, stay indoors. Walk around big-box stores, or see if the local fitness center has an indoor track.

2. Start with short walks and build up to longer treks.

For folks over 65, an average of 30 minutes, five days a week, is recommended. Not ready for that? No problem. Do what you can. Walk around the living room while you watch TV or chat on the phone. You’ll be able to walk farther and longer with practice.

3. Use the “Talk Test.”

This can help you determine how fast to walk. You should be able to talk in complete sentences, but singing should be difficult.

4. Balance Matters – Use Support

Wear supportive, comfortable shoes. Walkers and canes are great for those who need them. Trekking poles are helpful and help engage the upper body and core.

5. Be Prepared

Wear clothes suitable for the weather. Drink water.

6. Walk with a friend

Life is meant to be shared, as is a pretty hike. Plus, if something goes awry, it’s good to have someone around to help.

To make new walking friends, check out walkwithadoc.org. It’s a global nonprofit that organizes group walks where everyone gets outside to enjoy the sun while discussing a health topic. After a quick search of their site, I found a walk near me at Travers Park (2100 Pine Street) in Sandpoint, Idaho every Thursday at 1:00 PM PST.

7. Celebrate All Movement

The more we move, the longer we live. Still, the vast majority of Americans aren’t exercising enough. So, every time you purposefully take an extra step, pat yourself on the back – and then take another!

Who knows? Now that I’ve got solid answers for my writing group on how to safely get up and go, maybe we’ll start walking together. Spot a diverse group on a path debating whether to italicize thoughts in prose, with a tall blond woman quoting “Gone With the Wind.” It’s us.

Whether you’re easing into your first neighborhood loop or training for a gentle trail, I’d love to hear about your walks in the comments. Share a favorite safe spot in Northern Idaho, or tag a friend who might enjoy these tips.

Subscribe for more hike guides, fitness ideas for real bodies, and stories from the 50 at 50 journey. Let’s keep moving—together.

Want to know more about exercise guidelines? Check out these helpful references:

American Family Physician: Exercise Prescriptions in Older Adults

American Heart Association Recommendations for Physical Activity in Adults and Kids

Center for Disease Control: Older Adult Activity: An Overview

Department of Health and Human Services: Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans

National Institute on Aging: Exercise and physical activity

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When I chose this week’s hike, Pine Street Woods Loop via Greta’s Segway, in Sandpoint, Idaho, I gave the AllTrails description the same cursory glance. The highlights indicated it was a 4-mile, 2-hour loop, with only 580 feet of elevation gain. The accompanying GPS image showed an easy-to-follow day-glow green line.

I’d recently returned from Yellowstone Park, where I’d trekked all day every day. Immediately after, I slogged up the long, steep Schweitzer Nature Trail in Sandpoint, breathless, legs burning. I wanted easy. Short. Quick. This looked perfect. My husband, Ken, and I could finish the laid-back jaunt in the morning and be home by lunchtime.

Arriving at the trailhead, I scanned the posted map. My eyes wandered over a web of endless dotted lines of different colors: green, gray, black. I searched for the Pine Street Woods trail. Instead, found Mushroom, Chaos Theory, Butterfly, and West Side. Finally, I looked at Ken and shrugged.

Soon, we were in the forest. A rusty, abandoned trailer carriage sat like a sculpture among the shady trees. A patch of red blooms rose from the forest floor: Leafless Wintergreen - a native plant that obtains nutrients from fungi rather than through photosynthesis. Pretty cool, right? Trees gave way to pavement. We crossed a road and saw the Greta Segway trail marker. Got back on the path.

Within the conifers, it smelled of warm pine needles and damp earth. We soon stumbled upon a fork in the trail. A wood post with two signs attached. On one, the cartoon image of a woman’s head. She wore glasses and her hair in a bun. An arrow below her pointed right. Was this Greta?

Below that, another marker: Greta’s Segway; the arrow directed between the two paths.

“You choose,” I said and tailed Ken.

The trail markers that followed confused me further: a butterfly, the imprint of a dog’s paw, a drawing of a contemporary house, Momentum written above a squiggly arrow.

Again and again, we went one way, checked the AllTrails app. Saw our blue dot move in the wrong direction, and reversed course.

Ultimately, we followed Greta’s Segway through the woods to the grass pastures of the Butterfly trail, dotted with Yarrow, Hawkweed, and Mossy Rose. Then on to Momentum, with sweeping views overlooking the blue Pend Oreille River. Finally, down to Cracker Pants, where friendly mountain bikers directed us back to Butterfly. We returned along our original route toward the parking lot, an easy, beautiful 4.19 miles. My calves didn’t twinge.

Back home, I finally read the details provided on AllTrails. It read, “This hike starts out on Greta’s Segway trail, then connects to the Pine Street Woods trail system and follows Butterfly trail, Momentum trail, Pinecone trail, and Owl trail, before heading back to Greta’s Segway trail and returning to the trailhead.”

I never saw a pinecone or an owl. So don’t be like me. Prepare. Read up on your hikes. Pine Street Woods isn’t confusing—it’s a delightful maze. 180 acres of protected land adjacent to Sherwood Forest in the Syringa Trail System. Combined, there are dozens of trails. No entrance fees. No parking fees.

JUST THE FACTS: Pine Street Woods Jen’s 4.19-Mile Maze

• Distance: 4.19 miles (loop)
• Estimated Time: ~2 hours
• Elevation Gain: 580 feet
• Key Highlights: Views of Pend Oreille River, wildflowers, shady forest paths, and friendly mountain bikers
• Difficulty: Easy to moderate; some steep sections. Watch for fast-descending bikers and pay attention to the many trail junctions.

Call for Comments: Have you hiked at Pine Street Woods? Share your stories, favorite trails, tips, or local history in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. At 50, I’m learning that getting a little lost can still lead to exactly where you need to be. Let’s build this community together.

I’d endured the Nature Trail hike before and remembered that the descent was challenging, with the ever-present fear of my feet sliding down hard dirt and falling on my tush, or stumbling over rocks and twisting my ankle. But somehow, I’d forgotten that going up Schweitzer Mountain was hard, too.

I suspect the agony of the ascent was erased by the endorphins released each time I turned toward the spectacular view: Green pine trees, blue Lake Pend Oreille, and the glorious peaks of the Cabinet Mountains rising in the east from the lake like ancient loch creatures.

Of course, I hadn’t had to torture myself like this. I could have paid for a gondola ride, lazily sipped wine at the Sky House restaurant atop the peak, and been intoxicated by the landscape without a single drop of perspiration.

Maybe next year.

After dragging my legs to the top, I fell onto a picnic table bench. Sipping the warm water I’d carried in my pack and chewing a granola bar, I watched people exiting the ski lift with a look of superior disdain.

“Slackers,” I thought as I stared.

“Fool,” they thought when I stood, picked up my trekking poles, and began my descent back down.

I wondered, as I trudged, whether those tourists knew the strange legend behind the mountain’s name: Schweitzer. It brings to mind the European Alps and overpriced wristwatches, but oh no, locals here in Northern Idaho have more vivid imaginations and perhaps a more forgiving nature than most when it comes to naming their treasures.

The rugged surroundings are said to have been christened after an old hermit named Schweitzer, who lived in the hills as the town of Sandpoint was coming to life in the late 19^th century. He fell in love with a happily married woman, threatened to kidnap her, and make her his wife. When the sheriff chased after him, Schweitzer was found in his small cabin, boiling kittens in a pot for dinner. The walls of his home were decorated with furry soft feline hides.

Ugh.

Thank goodness, as my mind was picturing the fate of those poor animals, a mountain biker whizzed by, stirring me from my reverie.

Anyway, despite whatever did or did not happen, in the summer of 18-something-or-other, between an old man and his cats in the Selkirk Mountains, today Schweitzer is home to the largest ski resort in Idaho. It was founded in the 1960’s, a mere 80 miles north of Spokane, Washington.

During the summer months, when the snow has melted, leaving huckleberry bushes to flourish, it’s open to nature lovers like me to traverse, enjoy its views, and admire the deer (and sometimes bear and moose) that decorate its landscape. The Nature Trail is just one of multiple treks to be enjoyed during the summertime for no charge at the resort.

JUST THE FACTS: Schweitzer Nature Trail

• Distance: 5.3 miles (total out and back)

• Estimated Time: ~ 4 hours

• Elevation Gain: 1,676 feet

• Key Highlights: Panoramic views of the Cabinet Mountains, Lake Pend Oreille, and serene wildlife.

· Difficulty: Hard. Steep hike to the top. Much of trail rocky, careful or you’ll trip!

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Schweitzer Nature Trail? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. Let’s build this community together.

Check out these References for more information about the history of Schweitzer:

• Alterra Mountain Company. (2023, August 22). Alterra Mountain Company Closes Acquisition of Schweitzer in Idaho. https://www.alterramtn.co/en/news/alterra-mountain-company-closes-acquisition-of-schweitzer
  
  

• Century 21 RiverStone. History of Schweitzer Mountain Ski Resort, Sandpoint Idaho. http://www.c21schweitzer.com/schweitzer_history.php

It read:

“Funding for the purchase and management of this property was provided by the Bonneville Power Administration Mitigation Program. This property provides partial mitigation for wildlife habitat losses associated with the construction and operation of Albeni Falls Dam.”

My interest was sparked.

I knew of the dam, which controls the water level of Lake Pend Oreille (located approximately 50 miles northeast of Spokane, Washington, in the Northern Idaho Panhandle), because it had frequently been in the local news. The US Army Corps of Engineers, which owns and operates it, had identified major structural damage. To prevent flooding in the spring, water levels were kept unusually low. That decision upset many who profit from or simply enjoy the lake’s use in the spring and summer.

Now I wondered, what kind of damage had it caused wildlife?

I snapped a photo of the sign, determined to learn more. First, I had a hike to complete.

The Hike:

We followed a wide, winding path through a green pasture, then entered a coniferous forest shaded by tall Cedars and Douglas Fir. We crossed a footbridge over the babbling water of a rock-lined creek and entered sunny terrain bordering the trout-filled Pack River.

About a mile in, we continued up a short hill and stopped to admire the Selkirk Mountains in the distance, some still snow-capped in mid-June.

We passed few other people on our mid-morning adventure, but we were accompanied by butterflies hovering nearby: black-and-white Swallowtail and dark Mourning Cloak. A chorus of Cedar Waxwings, Orange-crowned Warblers, sweet Vireo, and Black-capped Chickadee followed us.

Occasionally, the path before us split. We stopped to check our downloaded AllTrails map before continuing. I snapped photos of the wildflowers around us: yellow goatsbeard, orange hawkweed, purple-blue lupine, and, best of all, the delicately backward-curled Columbia Lily.

After we’d walked nearly three miles, we came upon a wooden barn in a serene pasture, with mountains in the distance. Moments later, we reached the turnaround point at a second trailhead in Sandpoint, near Rapid Creek Lightning Road, which gives the trail its name.

We stopped for pictures, a water break, and to reapply mosquito spray. I’d learned my lesson after my last adventure and carried it in the pocket of my hiking pants. Then we returned from whence we came, walking a total of 5.6 miles.

I glanced at the sign again as I placed my hiking sticks in my car. That afternoon at home, I opened my computer and continued my trip, this time, through history.

The History:

I learned that the Albeni Falls Dam was constructed in the early 1950s, one of many dams built after a catastrophic flood in the region in late May and early June of 1948. 51 people were killed by the high waters. Property damage exceeded $100 million (equivalent to $1 billion today). Crops on 250,000-plus acres of farmland were destroyed; an additional 20,000-plus acres were ruined by erosion. In the Vanport community in Oregon, 19,000 people were left homeless (Paulsen, 1949).

While the dam benefited many via flood mitigation and affordable energy, it also brought harm.

6,617 acres of wetland habitat were lost, and 8,900 acres of deep-water marsh were flooded, altering the landscape and what could survive and thrive. Area where bald eagles, Canada geese, white-tailed deer, and muskrats bred and fed was gone (IDFG, 1997).

The construction of this dam, among others, also stopped native salmon and steelhead runs that once reached Lake Pend Oreille and the Clark Fork River. The territory of the bull trout and westslope cutthroat was left endangered. Millions of fish dead.

The Bonneville Power Administration (BPA), identified on the IDFG-posted sign, markets and sells energy generated by the dam. It has been making payments to mitigate damage since 1980, when Congress passed the Pacific Northwest Electric Power Planning and Conservation Act, requiring the BPA to “protect, mitigate, and enhance fish and wildlife” (BPA, n.d.).

The BPA reached an additional $24 million settlement in 2018 with the State of Idaho to finish shoreline remediation projects and for future care of Idaho’s mitigated lands (NPCC, 2018).

When walking along the winding Pack River, with its clear water, tall sandy banks, and chirping birds, it’s easy to miss that this isn’t how it should look. The banks are eroding. The water no longer floods each spring as it once did, bringing nutrients to native trees and flowers. The hawkweed I admired shouldn’t be there.

As I think about Rapid Lightning Creek Trail, I’m reminded that the choices we make alter both the world and our lives. I know I’ve made both good and bad ones over the last 50 years. Nonetheless, like Northern Idaho, which is bumpy, scarred, and reimagined, my life remains beautiful.

JUST THE FACTS: Rapid Lightning Creek Trail

• Distance: 5.6 miles (total out and back)

• Estimated Time: ~2.5 hours

• Elevation Gain: 416 feet

• Key Highlights: Access to the Pack River and views of the Selkirks.

• Difficulty: Moderate. Only a few hills along the wide, well-maintained trail. Great for kids and dogs. Moderate because of the distance.

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Rapid Lightning Creek Trail? Share your stories, tips, and local history in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

My Next Hike: Schweitzer Nature Trail: 5.3 miles total out & back: 1,676 ft elevation gain: estimated time: 4 hrs. I hope you’ll read along.

Subscribe for weekly hike guides, practical trail info, and ‘Off the Trail’ personal essays. Let’s build this community together.

References:

Paulsen, C. G., et al. (1949). Floods of May-June 1948 in Columbia River Basin. U.S. Geological Survey Water-Supply Paper 1080. United States Department of the Interior. https://pubs.usgs.gov/wsp/1080/report.pdf (Detailed report on the 1948 Columbia River Basin floods, including death toll, property damage, and impacts in the region.)

Idaho Department of Fish and Game (IDFG). (1997). Project 9206100 - Albeni Falls Wildlife Mitigation Implementation. Bonneville Power Administration Fish and Wildlife Program proposal. Northwest Power and Conservation Council. https://cfw.nwcouncil.org/Content/FWProgram/ReviewCycle/fy1997/projects/9206100.htm (Project details on wildlife habitat losses from Albeni Falls Dam, including acres affected, mitigation goals, and ongoing shoreline issues.)

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. (n.d.). Albeni Falls Dam. Northwest Division. https://www.nws.usace.army.mil/Missions/Civil-Works/Locks-and-Dams/Albeni-Falls-Dam/ (Official project page with construction history from the 1948 flood response, dam specifications, operations, and current lake conditions.)

Bonneville Power Administration (BPA). (n.d.). Fish & Wildlife Program. https://www.bpa.gov/environmental-initiatives/efw/fish-wildlife-program (Overview of BPA’s mandate under the 1980 Pacific Northwest Electric Power Planning and Conservation Act to mitigate impacts on fish and wildlife from federal hydropower projects.)

Northwest Power and Conservation Council. (2018, September 14). Idaho and BPA Sign $24 Million Wildlife Settlement For Albeni Falls Dam. https://www.nwcouncil.org/news/2018/09/14/idaho-and-bpa-sign-24-million-wildlife-settlement-albeni-falls-dam-0/ (News announcement on the 2018 settlement for shoreline remediation and future management of mitigated lands.)

Your challenge: Tell me the history of one of your favorite trails. It can cover the land, the people, nearby waterways, or a bit of personal history. Did you get engaged on a trail? Did you break up with your first boyfriend after getting lost on a hike? Maybe you discovered an old homestead, learned about Indigenous connections to the area, or uncovered how a trail was built by Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) crews decades ago.

I want to know the good, the bad, and the surprising - the stories that make a trail more than just dirt under your boots. Share in the comments below (or submit a longer piece via the Readers’ Hike form if you’d like to be featured). Whether it’s a local favorite here in Northern Idaho or a trail from your travels, your stories help us all see the land we walk in new ways.

I can’t wait to see (and maybe feature!) your comments in an upcoming post.

Happy Hiking!

Jen C.

Ken, my husband, had farted. It wasn’t a silent-but-deadly toot; no, it was loud and proud, and we were standing among a quiet group of fellow nature lovers in the woods who were speaking in hushed tones.

“Everyone heard,” I hissed.

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“How much farther?” I asked.

“A little over a mile.”

This was the trail I’d chosen for my birthday. It’s the first of 50 hikes in Northern Idaho as I turn 50 this year. I picked it because Mineral Point Loop connects to a second trail called Lost Lake. The name alone promised adventure, romance, or maybe the setting of an ’80s slasher flick. I had to see it.

Together, the journey would be 6.2 miles. Perfect.

As we continued down the road, the green forest thickened around us. It seemed a place where black bears and mountain lions surely wandered. I thought about the recent article I’d read about a grizzly attack in Glacier National Park, a few hours northeast in Montana. I checked the rearview mirror, glancing at our packs. Bear spray? Check.

The road widened into a parking area with a brown outhouse and a Forest Ranger’s truck. We parked, grabbed our hiking sticks, and approached the ranger. Her long gray hair was tied back in ponytails, giving her the look of a Kalispel warrior.

“Is the trail well marked?” Ken asked.

“Yes. Beautiful trail,” she said. “Common to see bald eagles at the bay view.”

Smiling, we set off. Within minutes we reached picnic tables overlooking the cerulean-blue waters of Green Bay on the eastern shore of Lake Pend Oreille. The bay takes its name not from the water’s color, but from the Green Monarch Mountains rising above it. A single boat dotted the vast expanse. The scene was breathtaking: quiet, crystalline, and vast.

As I stood there soaking it in, I remembered the reactions from friends and coworkers back in Massachusetts when I told them Ken and I had bought property in Idaho to build a log cabin. Foreheads furrowed. Eyebrows rose.

“Gonna grow potatoes?” “Where did you say? Iowa? Ohio?” “Idaho?”

Clearly, none of them had ever experienced the glory of Northern Idaho.

We continued along the trail as it turned away from the bay and into the deep forest. Silence wrapped around us, broken only by the caw of a crow that flapped its wide black wings from tree to tree, following us for a stretch. When it left, the pleasant whistle of an unseen vireo took its place.

The path was rolling, but not too steep. It was lined with wildflowers: white yarrow, trillium, and bright orange honeysuckle. Fresh horse droppings told us others had passed this way recently.

After about three miles we reached a sandy crossroads with multiple paths branching out. A small opening straight ahead had a nearly hidden “Lost” sign peeking through the overgrowth. We stepped past it and back into the trees.

This is when things went downhill.

We were attacked, not by bears, but by mosquitoes. I’d sprayed at the car, but the little vampires ignored it. We picked up the pace, swatting as we went.

At a fork, a brown sign with a bicycle icon pointed right.

“Which way?” I scratched a small pink bump on my hand.

Ken pulled out his phone. Opened the AllTrails app. “Don’t have a signal,” he said.

We went right and soon reached the source of the swarm: a still marsh - Lost Lake. I snapped a quick photo before the bugs drove us onward. Another fork appeared, this one marked “Shortcut: Mineral Point Loop.”

Ken looked at me. We took it.

Ultimately, we walked 3.87 miles in a little under two hours. We didn’t complete the full planned traverse, but the views along the Mineral Point Loop Trail, the wildflowers, the birds (sorry, no eagles that day), and the shared laughter made it a success. I learned two important lessons: download the offline trail map in advance, and keep the bug spray in your pack for reapplication.

My 50^th was a good birthday - one that reminded me that the best hikes (and life moments) are often those that don’t go exactly according to plan.

JUST THE FACTS: Lost Lake Trail & Mineral Point Loop

• Combined Distance: 6.2 miles (loop option)

• Estimated Time: ~3 hours

• Elevation Gain: 725 feet

• Key Highlights: Stunning views of Green Bay on Lake Pend Oreille; common bald eagle sightings

• Difficulty: Moderate. If you haven’t exercised in a while, don’t make this your first hike. Work your way up to it. It’s the distance that makes it not easy, though the rolling trail would be difficult for those with balance issues.

Call for Comments: Have you hiked Lost Lake or the Mineral Point Loop? Share your stories, tips, or mosquito war stories in the comments, or submit to Reader’s Hike to have your adventure highlighted.

My Next Hike: Rapid Lightning Creek Trail: A 5.6-mile out-and-back hike near Kootenai, ID. I hope you’ll read along.

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A few years ago, I gave up a successful career in the pharmaceutical industry due to burnout. I put in way too much time during the COVID-19 pandemic. I worked for Moderna, which developed the first vaccine, and spent endless hours at a desk, ensuring information was transferred to overstrained drug regulators.

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At least, those were the colorful ways Carrie Hugo, from Idaho’s Bureau of Land Management, described their peaceful cheeps-and-chirps as she led us along the half-mile trail beside the Waterlife Discovery Center (WDC) at 1591 Lakeshore Dr in Sagle, ID, a 45-minute drive north of Coeur d’Alene.

Aside from a quick glance at a flash of wings, the birds stayed mostly out of sight, hidden in the branches and bramble that surrounded us. But Hugo, who’s been studying the birds of Northern Idaho for twenty-five years, can identify the species by its sound and habitat.

For those who might be skeptical about the accuracy of Hugo’s identifications, some of our companions on the trail pulled out their phones and used the free Merlin App, which records birdsong and provides immediate identifications. It confirmed Hugo’s exactitude.

At one point, we stopped and looked across the roadway. A Sandpiper glided through the air, and a short while later a swallow zoomed, twisting and twirling.

“Is there water over there?” Hugo asked.

Indeed, there was an oxidation pond just out of sight. Not only can she identify birds without seeing them, but by seeing birds she can envision the world that surrounds them without viewing it. It’s as though, by studying Aves, she’s gained superpowers. Blindfold her and leave her in the woods; she’ll listen to the tweets and describe the habitat.

When we finished our walk, we went inside the cabin at the WDC where Hugo provided a fascinating and fun presentation on birds. Did you know that they can sleep with one eye open? Imagine a mama duck protecting its fluffy babies at night, half its brain asleep and resting, the other half, watching for danger. Amazing stuff.

I don’t consider the half-mile walk I took this morning as one of the 50 hikes I’ll be completing. But I do consider this another tip for enjoying Northern Idaho. The WDC overlooking Lake Pend Oreille is a great place to spend an afternoon with both the kids and the grandparents.

Historically a fish hatchery, it now serves as a self-guided educational facility. In addition to the flat, easy-to-traverse trail marked with informative signs, the WDC features:

· An amphitheater with fish viewing windows for admiring rainbow trout

· A spring-fed stream and pond

· Milkweed and native plant gardens

· Poster exhibits, fish identification information, and threatened species information.

· A dock providing access to beautiful Lake Pend Oreille

· The Discovery Center Cabin filled with educational information - staffed by volunteers and open from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM, on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays throughout the summer.

It’s not uncommon to spot bald eagles flying over the lake. Bring a picnic lunch and enjoy.

Oh, and download that Merlin App. When I returned home from the WDC, I sat out on my back deck that overlooks the clear water of the Clark Fork River and listened to the sweet songs of:

· American Robin

· Northern Yellow Warbler

· Cedar Waxwing

· Western Flycatcher

· American Crow

· Violet-green Swallow

Listen with me:

I finally mustered the courage to step on the bathroom scale and saw 144 displayed on the small electronic screen. Until this point, throughout my adult life, my weight had ranged between 118 and 126 pounds. At 5’4” and in my late forties, 144 is still considered a healthy weight, but it felt like a very big deal.

Worse, it wasn’t just my weight. At night, in bed, my lower back started to hurt. The ache would wake me at 2:00 a.m., then again at 3:00, 3:30, and 4:00. Trying to stretch out the discomfort, I’d roll onto my side and pull one leg toward my chest, leaving the other straight. When that didn’t work, I’d flip onto my back in corpse pose, then shift to the other side and try the fetal position. No matter how I arranged my torso and limbs, the discomfort persisted.

During the day, when my husband Ken and I went for our regular 3-mile walk, my back would twinge as soon as we hit the hillside half a mile from the house. By the time we returned, my back felt frozen stiff. I had to lower myself onto the living room floor and stretch slowly before I could even reach my sneakers.

Ken had suggested hiking poles before. In the fall of 2019, while planning our first ascent of Scotchman’s Peak—an eight-mile hike in Northern Idaho near the Montana border—he recommended them.

“No thanks,” I said, preferring to keep my hands free in case I slipped on the rocky talus fields. Besides, let’s face it, occasionally a young hottie will walk down a hill with a long wooden stick in hand that they found along the trail, or a lacquered staff purchased at a gift store inside a national park, but metal trekking poles are most commonly seen among more mature hikers. I didn’t want to consider myself a member of that lot yet.

By 2025, I had no choice if I wanted to keep hiking the trails I love. The strain on my back had become too much. Ken bought me a pair of Kelly-green hiking poles for Christmas. One sleepless night, as the familiar dull pain woke me, I realized the poles weren’t going to solve everything. I decided I should lose some weight, too. I went online and purchased monthly GLP-1 injections.

The next morning, I logged in and canceled the order. I’m terrified of needles, and it just seemed like a bad idea. My weight wasn’t terrible. Instead, I started Pilates three times a week. The stretches helped. Then I added running and weight training. I became more disciplined with movement than I had been in years and even got certified to teach group fitness classes.

I’m now down to 130 pounds. I feel strong. I can see my abs again, and my back no longer aches at night. But when I hike, I still use the poles. Studies show that trekking poles transform a hike into a full-body workout, engaging the arms and core while increasing calorie burn without raising perceived exertion (Saunders et al., 2008).

Knowing the benefits didn’t stop me from turning to Ken this morning as I reached for my poles and asking, “Do my hiking sticks make me look old?”

He rolled his eyes, smiled, and tapped me on the tush with one of his own poles. “You look beautiful.”

I grinned as we walked out of the driveway, accompanied by the rhythmic click-clack of our rubber tips digging into the dirt.

What I’ve learned:

• Trekking poles really do reduce back strain and make longer hikes more enjoyable.

• Strength training and consistent movement in your 40s and 50s can be transformative.

• Looking “old” is far better than not getting out on the trails at all.

Have you ever resisted a piece of hiking gear or a healthy habit, only to discover it made all the difference? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

Saunders MJ, Hipp GR, Wenos DL, Deaton ML. Trekking poles increase physiological responses to hiking without increased perceived exertion. J Strength Cond Res. 2008 Sep;22(5):1468-74. doi: 10.1519/JSC.0b013e31817bd4e8. PMID: 18714242.

The Blue Heron Café (486260 US-95, Samuels — just north of Sandpoint) is one of those magical places that perfectly matches the spirit of this 50 at 50 journey. You pull up to what looks like a regular gas station/mini-mart, walk through the front, and step out the back into a completely different world: peaceful patio seating with gorgeous views of Walsh Lake and the mountains. It’s the kind of place where you could hold a small celebration (or just celebrate finishing another hike on your list).

I stopped here recently after exploring trails at Stampede ORV Park. The day was sunny and 67 degrees — perfect Northern Idaho weather. The food was exactly what my body needed after hiking:

• I had the classic BLT — fresh, crispy, and satisfying.

• My husband loved The Leftover: roasted turkey, cranberry, stuffing on sourdough. Big thumbs up.

Pro Tip: Ask for outdoor seating right away. The contrast between the front and the back patio is part of what makes it so magical.

This one’s going on my growing list of favorite post-hike stops in Northern Idaho.

Blue Heron Café Hours:

• Sunday: 6:00am – 2:00pm

• Monday: 6:00am – 2:00pm

• Tuesday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Wednesday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Thursday: 6:00am – 7:30pm

• Friday: 6:00am – 8:30pm

• Saturday: 6:00am – 8:30pm

Breakfast is served until 11:00am.

What about you? What’s a unique spot you’ve discovered while wandering? Share in the comments.

We’ve received our first Readers’ Hike submission! Check out this wonderful excerpt from subscriber Teresa Pesce’s book Advice, in which she beautifully challenges the ‘over the hill’ narrative.

“The phrase “over the hill” originated in England in the 1900’s and referred to turning 40 years old because that age represented the middle of life. Today those black, “over the hill” birthday balloons are available for every decade after twenty! They jokingly remind us we are accelerating down the mountain of life right to our funeral.

The joke isn’t funny, and it plays a trick on us that we miss. If the years of moving up the hill are aspirational, creative, and financially progressive, what is at the top? A pleasant plateau where we arrive, rule, and reign? Apparently not. There’s just a black balloon announcing the beginning of the end.

‘Over the hill’ manages to completely ignore the value, worth, honor, and enjoyment of half of your life! And it is the half where you are knowledgeable, skilled, and mature enough to appreciate life as youth never can. It is the half where experience mellows to wisdom and the wanderings of lust become the home where love lives.”

Interested in more of Teresa’s thoughts? Her book Advice is available on Amazon now.

“What’s your take on aging and hiking? Have you had a powerful midlife moment on the trail? Share your story in the comments or submit your own Readers’ Hike piece! Whether you’re 25 or 95 — your voice belongs here.”

That was then. This is now.

A day ago, I stood in a pine forest at Stampede Off-Road Vehicle (ORV) Park in Naples, Idaho, net in hand, chasing butterflies with limited success. I sprinted up hills, and through branch-littered grasslands after yellow swallowtails, blue coppers, and a small black butterfly I couldn’t immediately identify. I was sweaty, exhausted, and—as my husband laughingly pointed out—only caught about 30% of the ones I pursued.

Were butterflies always this fast?

I was hunting the flying insects as a volunteer for the Idaho Fish and Game (IDFG) Butterfly Atlas project, which tracks and documents butterfly species across the state. Butterflies are excellent indicators of ecosystem health—tiny canaries in the coal mine that can signal problems before they become obvious in larger animals.

The Monarch is the most famous example. They were once abundant in Idaho, with estimates ranging in the millions in the early 1990s. Since then, their numbers have plummeted. While multiple factors are involved—including habitat loss—the widespread introduction of neonicotinoid pesticides in the late 1990s has been particularly devastating for pollinators. These chemicals spread easily into groundwater and onto non-target plants.

In 2024, according to an IDFG report, Monarch sightings in the Panhandle were extremely rare. The impact ripples outward as well: raccoons, cats, owls, and snakes eat the birds, bats, and spiders that feed on the poisoned pollinators.

That, however, was not what I was thinking about as the fairy-like creatures darted away just out of reach. I was more worried about tripping over a log while running in heavy hiking boots and awkwardly swinging my net.

“I have to work on my agility training,” I panted to my husband.

Still, I managed to capture, photograph, and release three butterflies without harming them (or myself). According to the eButterfly app, one was a Boisduval’s Blue with 96% confidence, and the other two were most likely Common Ringlets.

Aside from the butterflies, Stampede ORV Park proved to be a lovely spot. Despite its name (I assume there are days when it is filled with the screams of 2-stroke-engine motorcycles and teenagers atop ATVs), it was wonderfully quiet that day.

The rolling terrain, the 3.2-mile main loop trail, and several shorter connector trails (some closed to ORVs) made for a peaceful morning in nature. It even has a bathroom and space for kids to run around. If you’re in the Boundary County area and looking for a family-friendly outdoor spot, it’s worth a visit.

It served as a perfect warm-up for the bigger adventure ahead. In just a couple of weeks, I start my Hike Northern Idaho: 50 at 50 challenge. I’m celebrating turning 50 by completing 50 hikes starting on my birthday: June 11, 2026. I can’t wait to begin.

If you see butterflies this summer, consider downloading the free eButterfly app and contributing your own sightings to the Idaho Butterfly Atlas. And if you’d like to follow along on my hiking journey, I’d love to have you join me here on Hike Northern Idaho: 50 at 50.