Former colleagues bond monthly around hikes, beer
For the last 10 years, my friend, Rick Bonino, and I have had an ambitious goal: to hike together – or ski or snowshoe together – at least once a month, every month of the year.
We dubbed ourselves the Bonino-Kershner Hiking and Brewpub Club, since we decided that every trek would finish with a brewpub visit.
This seemed a natural combination, since Bonino at the time was The Spokesman-Review’s beer writer and knew all the best places to sit on a patio and rehydrate. It also made sense, since we live in a region notable for gorgeous mountains and fine craft beer.
Now we have entered our 70s, and our club is still going strong. We attribute our club’s longevity to one overriding factor: There are only two members.
Any more than that would just make it more complicated to agree on a date, a time, a route and probably even a brewpub.
We have successfully included the occasional guest member, as explained below, yet we learned early that we work smoothly as a duo.
We share the same hiking pace (slow), the same conversation topics (Seattle Mariners, cooking, music) and the same sense of humor (irreverent/juvenile).
We’ve covered a lot of miles over the years – often because we get lost – and have enjoyed some spectacular high points and several serio-comical low points.
Here’s a rundown:
Favorite hikes: We have never found two more perfect hikes than the two that depart from opposite directions at Sherman Pass.
The Sherman Peak loop is on the south side of the highway, and the Columbia Mountain loop is on the north side.
Both are ideal for the club: high elevation, spectacular views of the Kettle Crest, wildflowers in the early summer and tamarack gold in the late summer/early fall.
And huckleberries, lots of huckleberries.
Least favorite hike: Mica Peak, hands down.
This is not Mica Peak’s fault – it was my fault for picking the worst possible route.
For some reason, I decided that we should simply walk up the service road to the summit.
That meant walking straight uphill for mile after mile on a gravel road, which is not only rough on the feet, but also completely lacking in aesthetic appeal. A year or two later, we found a much more pleasant route, on the foot trails on the west side of the summit.
Most beautiful views: It’s hard to beat the views from any of the gorgeous high alpine lakes on the Bitterroot Crest, including Revett Lake, Blossom Lakes, Pear Lake and St. Regis Lake, or any of the views in the Cabinet Mountains.
But the view of Mount Rainier from the Chinook Pass area surpasses anything I’ve seen.
Least beautiful views: One chilly March day, I had the brilliant idea to head to the scablands along Rock Creek.
Finding a decent low-altitude hike in early spring is particularly challenging. Only when we got there did we discover that a wildfire had swept through the year before, turning the entire area into brown, muddy wasteland.
The only sights we saw besides mud and charcoal were one, a lone, dead sapling that I forced Bonino to pose next to, and two, a toothy skull, the only remnant of a badger that met a fiery demise.
Worst medical emergency: Somehow, I managed to rupture two of my four right rotator cuff tendons during a mid-winter cross-country ski trek at Farragut State Park in Idaho.
Calling it an “emergency” is an exaggeration, since I was able to continue skiing, one-armed, the rest of the afternoon.
I was even able to use my left arm to lift a post-ski pint at the Daft Badger Brewpub.
But I remember being concerned that I couldn’t do the same with my right arm, which did not work anymore. Surgery was required.
Best overnight trips: Most of our treks are day trips – our backpacking days are over.
Yet, about once a year, we go farther afield and plan a long afternoon hike, followed by a stay in a motel room, and then a long morning hike before driving back to Spokane.
Our most memorable overnight destinations have been Yakima, Bellingham and Sandpoint.
Guest appearances with the club: For each of those trips, we added a guest member to serve as a guide.
Our old friend Adam Lynn took us through those Mount Rainier hikes; our good pal Johnny Nelson showed us the Bellingham ropes; and our trail buddy Bern Sheldon led us on his favorite Sandpoint area hikes.
Lately, we have added a new honorary club member, my little black dog, Birdy, who surpasses both of us in stamina and cuteness.
Biggest wardrobe malfunction: On one of those Sandpoint hikes, the sole of my hiking boot came loose in a scree slope and was flapping around like a clown shoe.
We were miles from the trailhead but were able to use shoelaces to secure it long enough to get back to the car.
The lesson: Replace those old boots sooner rather than later.
Wild animal encounters: We have run into moose several times, always staying well clear.
We’ve watched snowshoe hares scurrying away through the snow.
We’ve watched turkey vultures perform surprisingly graceful courting dances.
On one memorable occasion on the Wapaloosie Trail on the Kettle Crest, we watched as a big brown animal thrashed its way toward us through brush.
We had our hands on our bear spray when – a plump harmless cow emerged from the brush, chewing its cud.
This area apparently supports grazing, not grizzlies.
The most elusive critter of all: Bonino firmly believes that the pika, a cute little high-country rock-dweller, is mythical.
That’s because I keep promising Bonino that we are going to see pikas, and time after time, the pikas have failed to cooperate.
Once, I planned a trip to a high Montana lake solely because other hikers had reported the place to be crawling with pikas.
Nope. No pikas.
Finally, on our Mount Rainier trip, I saw a pika darting amongst the rocks, Adam shot pictures with his telephoto lens.
Bonino squinted into the rocks and said, “I guess I saw it. At least, I saw a little bit of brown for a second.”
Adam’s photos failed to provide definitive proof and Bonino has now reverted to his unshakable belief that the pika is like a unicorn, but even less real.
Most embarrassing time we got lost: We usually get lost at least once on every trip, despite following the indispensable trail guidebooks written by our close friend, Rich Landers. (Of course, just to get a rise out of him, we tell him we get lost because we followed his guidebooks).
Usually we are not seriously lost, we have merely taken a wrong fork for a few minutes before correcting the error.
Sometimes, though, we become seriously addled (did I mention we are in our 70s?).
The most embarrassing incident occurred on the Antoine Peak trails. In trying to return to our car at the end of a hike, we sauntered two miles in the wrong direction to a trailhead where our car was conspicuously absent.
Why was this such a problem? Dusk was coming on and we were still more than an hour from the correct trailhead.
Why was it particularly embarrassing? Because from almost any point on Antoine Peak, anyone can LOOK OUT AND SEE THE ENTIRE SPOKANE VALLEY. And yet we still hiked one entire hour in the wrong direction.
Most embarrassing time Bonino got lost: While at the excellent Matchwood Brewing in Sandpoint, Bonino headed to the restroom.
When he returned, he said, “When I walked out, this lady gave me a really dirty look. I couldn’t figure out why. And then I noticed I had just come out of (the) women’s restroom.”
In his defense, Bonino maintained that the symbols on the restroom doors were less than definitive. (He gave me the OK to use this anecdote in print, even though Matchwood is in Idaho, a state where using the wrong restroom might be a crime).
Favorite brewpubs: Matchwood and Utara in Sandpoint; YaYa and Whistle Punk in the Spokane Valley; Republic Brewing Co. in Republic; Quartzite Brewing in Chewelah; Vantage Point and Daft Badger in Coeur d’Alene; Perry Street, Brick West, Iron Goat, Uprise and Hat Trick in Spokane … Oh, who am I kidding. We’ve never hit a brewpub we didn’t like.
Lessons we’ve learned along the trail: No. 1: Invest in a satellite GPS device or a trail navigation app.
Getting lost is not a joke.
No. 2: Carry a compass, too.
No. 3: Carry a headlamp in case you still get lost.
No. 4: Know your limits.
At age 70-plus, 5,000 feet of elevation gain is not fun, or even possible.
No. 5: Watch your step. I once broke a big toe failing to notice a seemingly harmless rock.
No. 6: Carry bear spray in grizzly country and know how to use it.
No. 7: You live in the glorious Northwest – start your own Hiking and Brewpub Club before it’s too late.
If you prefer, make it ice cream instead of beer. That sounds even better than beer. (Almost.)