Q’emiln Park, Post Falls, Idaho
For many years, my New Year’s Day activity has been to run and walk the number of miles of the year we are in. For example, last year was the New Year of 2022, so I completed 22 miles. I was already sick, with my primary symptoms being chronic pain and nausea, and I had just discovered I had a rare and incurable blood cancer. It did not feel like a Happy New Year. So, I guess the only option was to make it worse by doing all 22 miles on a treadmill. It was a strange choice, and I still do not support my decision. It was dumb. Treadmills are called dreadmills for good reasons. And had I known and accepted that might be my last time doing that silly tradition, I would have made a different choice.
And now…Happy New Year’s 2023! I carried a lot of negativity into 2023 and again made the day miserable for me but in a much different way. I found it difficult to see “everyone” celebrating and promising hopeful futures for themselves and those they love. I knew I no longer had the strength or endurance to run and walk 23 miles in one shot, so I previously compromised with myself and committed to participating in one of the many First Day Hikes held by various outdoor-focused regional agencies. Then, I canceled my registration for the hike I had signed up for. I told myself I wanted to do my own thing that day. I did do my own thing. I stayed home under a pile of blankets and dogs and was marinating in my physical and psychological discomfort while resenting what I used to be able to do and how much joy the world around me seemed to have while I suffered. It was dumb.
I did not do my 23 miles on January 1st. I did not do the core hiking tradition of a First Day Hike. And I did not know I was missing out on creating joy with people I cared about and who cared for me because I was grieving. Grief is a dirty bitch. Grieving for yourself feels the dirtiest. And, what I have witnessed in my support group and others who are grieving, I am not unique in not realizing at the moment that grief is why I make some of my choices – especially those that hurt me the most.
I had previously scheduled a walk for today around Riverfront Park in Spokane, Washington, followed by ice skating at their famous outdoor Ice Ribbon, but there was little interest from others. I was ready to continue my trend of isolating and loathing myself and the world around me and cancel the event. One of my great hiking friends, The Expeditionologist, is in town, and our scheduling to hike together rarely works out, and in our tradition, the timing of this ice skating event did not work for her. So, we built Plan B – a trip to Q’emiln Park (Kih-MEE-lin) in Post Falls, Idaho. We got together with other friends: MC and her family, MR, and a new friend, PG. It is a place that is familiar to us, but I had it on my list of places to visit or re-visit this winter from the list in the book 100 Hikes in the Inland Northwest. It is the second hike recommended as a “choice city hike” in Appendix A on page 320.
My first introduction to this park and its trail system was when the city began advertising the building-up of the Post Falls Community Forest. I began running on those new trails, and because it was new and unmarked, the trails were not populated, creating lovely solo running and hiking days.
Because of our familiarity with the trails, when it was time for one of my boys to plan his Eagle Scout Project, he set up a trail-marking system for Q’emiln Park and Post Falls Community Forest. We spent many days carrying drills, ladders, and other tools and hardware through the forest to create a user-friendly system of orientation and measurement. We began the project at the beginning of the summer of 2018, which we call the Summer of The Bees, and no matter how many layers of clothes we used for protection, the bees made their way inside our clothes, and we had new stings every single day. Equally (not)fun was the neighboring private property owners who did not welcome local adventurers to use the public lands, so they would go behind us and remove the trail markers we hung. Overall, the project was fun, and I remain quite proud of the hard work completed as a family.
There are two trailhead parking lots for these trails. One trailhead is located within Q’emiln Park, as referenced in 100 Hikes in the Inland Northwest. This trailhead has a booth where the city charges a fee between Memorial Day and Labor Day. The other trailhead, located further up Riverview Drive, is the one I usually use and was built after the book’s writing. That trailhead is free to use. Both trailheads have maps and bathrooms.
Q’emiln Park and Post Falls Community Forest have a lot to offer, especially for an urban hike. It is easily accessible in town and open year-round. There are easier and shorter trails, more difficult and longer trails, rocky ravines to hike and rock climb, frequent swim spots along the Spokane River, and opportunities to view wildlife – just today, we saw two moose and a handful of deer while hiking.
The snow-covered dirt trails were well packed down today, but the path we chose (purple, blue, green) had a few sections of climbing up or down rocks covered in a layer of ice. We each had YakTrax or Kahtoolas, with the spikes proving to be much better than the YakTrax for current trail conditions.
“I do not know what I think until I hike about it” is something I have always said. I should have been on a trail on New Year’s Day. I am sure I would have saved myself two days of sadness and anger if I had followed my original intention of being in the outdoors that I love and that loves me back. It is hard to see when you are “in it,” though. It is easy to believe that all is lost and nothing is recoverable when faced with unwanted and unfamiliar limitations. Cancer and grief create a changing goalpost that is difficult to navigate for this Type-A, inflexible, goal-driven person.
So, today I hiked. And I know better what I think. MC got her crotch spawn to happily join us by telling them we were going on a walk. At some point, one of her kiddos said, “This feels a lot more like a hike than a walk!” More than one adult in the group responded that hiking and walking are not that different, so it is up to you how you want to see them. “So it is up to you how you want to see.”
So, it is up to me how I want to see.