Making A Difference: An Occasional Series Profiling North Idaho’S Community Leaders Pedal Power Bicycling Is A Way Of Life For Cda Shop Owner
It’s lunchtime when a sunburned man pushes his midnight blue mountain bike into Mark Beattie’s shop and shakes his head with disgust.
“I’m going to fire my mechanic,” the man mutters, not bothering to remove his helmet. Irritation tenses his mouth and shoulders.
Something is wrong with the head shocks on his classy Cannondale. The man is on vacation from California, cycling to Canada.
Beattie pulls out a tool, works a moment and chats quietly about bike equipment. He admires the man’s vintage pedals — they don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Beattie’s brown braid clings to his spine as he bends over to examine the pedals more closely.
He waves off the man’s offer to pay. The man smiles and pushes his bike out the door, ready to play again. Beattie’s low-key approach worked like magic.
“He really likes people, and he loves the sport,” says Jennifer Foster, Beattie’s soulmate. “He just wants to share all this cool stuff he knows about with everyone.”
Beattie, 39, owns Vertical Earth, a bike and ski shop in downtown Coeur d’Alene. He’s a businessman with clients so dedicated they’re nearly groupies.
He’s earned the admiration. Beattie works 80 hours a week and still finds time to help clean Canfield Mountain, organize free bike repairs for kids in City Park and teach a repair workshop at a women’s mountain bike retreat.
He has supervised the Coeur d’Alene Triathlon’s bike course for two years, and constantly donates water bottles, bike lube and energy supplements to local races and athletes.
He promotes safe riding, helmet use and the addition of bike lanes to local roads. He also advocates driver education for cyclists as well as cyclist awareness for motorists.
His shop has become a hub for mountain bikers because Beattie is one of them. He’s kept alive a weekly mountain bike adventure on Canfield Mountain that began years before he opened Vertical Earth in 1994.
“Without him, there wouldn’t be Tuesday night rides,” says Al Harrison, a triathlete who now races mountain bikes for Vertical Earth’s team.
“He’s done as much as can be done to unite mountain bikers in the area,” says Nancy Brown, an expert rider and former racer.
Beattie’s shop is as friendly as the old neighborhood market. Baskets of energy boosters dangle from the beamed ceiling. A wall of pegboard exhibits every tool ever made. The floor holds an army of mountain bikes.
A mix of fresh rubber and bike lubricant mildly scents the air. Dogs sleep by the door, behind the counter, on customers’ feet - Archie, the border collie mix; Sophie, the labrador mix; and Sam, the fuzzy brown mutt.
Beattie’s years as a bartender sharpened his understanding of human nature. But his parents laid the foundation.
Both were well-educated and community-minded. His dad’s mining engineer job brought the family from Flat Gap, Tenn., to Wallace, where his mother, Barbara, worked as a school administrator and served on the school board.
Beattie was raised between two sisters, Karen and Susan.
“I think that’s where the diplomacy comes in,” he says, grinning.
He biked before bikes were cool.
“It’s something I’ve always done,” he says. “I like the freedom. You can see what’s going on around you, be part of the sights and sounds.”
He studied business administration in college, tried work at a large corporation and decided instead to teach skiing.
He met Foster 14 years ago, while he managed banquets and bars for a Hilton Hotel in Sacramento, Calif. Bartending appealed to his friendly nature. The money was good. People were usually happy, and Beattie liked the fast pace.
His parents brought him back to Idaho in 1988. Both had heart attacks in the same week.
He tended bar and worked as a mechanic at a local bike shop while he planned his own restaurant in Coeur d’Alene. When the plan wouldn’t come together, Beattie decided to open a bike and ski shop.
His timing was perfect. The bike shop at which he’d worked had gone out of business. Another popular bike shop in town was closing.
Beattie was well-known around town as the guy who biked to work year-round. Mountain bikers knew him as the cool-headed bartender who served them after their Tuesday night rides. He spoke their language.
When he opened the doors to Vertical Earth, his friends flocked in.
He lived with his parents while business grew. Advertising didn’t work. Word-of-mouth did. Riders spread the news that Beattie was dedicated to the sport and to athletes, regardless of gender.
Beattie bristles at men who belittle women’s athletic endeavors and at women who hide behind their gender.
“I’ve had my butt kicked a couple of times by women, so I know they’re not weaker,” he says. “It just never occurred to me that being a girl might make you slower.”
That respect for people added to his unflappable nature and eagerness to play has made Beattie a favorite among cyclists of all ages and skill levels.
“He handles everyone from (octogenarian) C.J. Hamilton to kids who can barely stand,” Harrison says. “When kids come in, he treats them like everyone else - fairly.”
Beattie worries about Internet and catalog companies stealing his small business. But he knows he has so much more than they can offer. A catalog isn’t much help when a cyclist is down and injured.
“He’s a really safe person and has a lot of first aid background,” says Anne McKendrick, a Coeur d’Alene mountain biker. “He’s a good person to have along with you.”
Beattie held a four-by-four on McKendrick’s injured leg for two hours a few years ago while rescuers struggled to reach them. McKendrick’s bike went down with her in gravel on top of Canfield Mountain. A tree branch punched through her leg as she fell.
“When something goes wrong, he’s not one to panic,” she says. “He keeps his head and he takes care of you.”