Good Grief, give me a cookie!

I had to ask if the white board was advertising two kinds of cookies for $1 apiece.

"Oops, I've got to erase that message," the friendly female clerk said, while making change for the long-haired young man in front of me. "We're all sold out . . . . no, that's one kind of cookie."

"White chocolate, oatmeal, cranberry, pecan?" I asked, "All in one cookie?"

"Yup," she said.

"Gee, I'm going to have to come up here again and get one," I said," but it would be a long drive for a cookie." When I added that I was from Sandpoint, she agreed.

I was standing inside the Good Grief Tavern/cafe/mini store a mile or two south of the Canadian border near Eastport. We had just finished Bill's geocache stashing at Meadow Creek and Copper Falls, and Mother was yearning for some cold water. So, that meant my first-ever visit inside the Good Grief Tavern. Considering the possibilities of getting one of those cookies, it may not be my last.

Our outing yesterday met all expectations. We listened to Mother's stories about all the trips she and Harold had made to Meadow Creek during their 49-year-plus marriage. Taking a short walk from the car, she pointed with her cane and showed us where the teacherage once stood. It was the building closest to the road, and its rock foundation still remains, along with remnants of an old stove, food cans, weathered boards and lots of rusted metal items.

The little town along the Spokane International Railroad once had 400 residents. Harold's mother and dad ran the school near where Meadow Creek runs into the Moyie River. It was one of their many teaching stops along their careers throughout the Northwest. And, life there set the backdrop for some of Harold's best dinnertime tales.

Mother recalled Harold's stories of bootleggers from Canada speeding by the teacherage in the night, on their way to deliver their goods. Bill recalled Harold's stories of hunting trips with his brother Doug on the nearby mountains. Willie and I listened and enjoyed the glimpses into the past.

Once the cache was planted (somewhere near the teacherage), we headed north along the Moyie. Mother told of one of their fairly recent trips where she and Harold had come upon a draft horse pulling a cart, loaded with nuns. We pointed out the log house near Good Grief which we once entertained the notion of buying. That was nearly 30 years ago. We still like that house.

At Copper Falls, Bill had to think about whether he was going to plant his second cache. After all, there was a large group of Mennonites gathered there for their Sunday afternoon outing. Some stood by their cars, while others were still descending the trail from the magnificent falls.

When you're a geocacher, you don't want geocache gentiles (muggles or people who don't geocache) to see where your stash your container. After all, the object is to hide the darn thing.

Well, the Mennonites eventually left and Bill stashed his cache. After the brief stop at Good Grief, we moved on to the reward of the day, dinner at the Chic 'n Chop Restaurant in Bonners Ferry. Though my hash brown potatoes may have been left over from the breakfast run, the rest of the food fully satisfied the four of us. We passed on dessert and headed home, agreeing it had been a wonderful Sunday afternoon drive.

And, this Monday morning, I'm still thinking about how and when I'm going to sample one of those Good Grief cookies.