The Route of the Hiawatha is but a dusty skeleton of what it once was.

But don't let that fool you.

Little is left to remind of its start as the host of cushy passenger trains, electricity-powered behemoths that surged through nature and thrilled passengers with the glamor of modern transportation.

Now the rails are stripped away, leaving dirt and rock and memories.

And where the paragons of transportation once roared, now is a playground for the simplest means of travel, neither glamorous nor modern, but just as thrilling as any machine to ever coast across the trail's surface.

At least, that's what I hoped as I flipped up the kick stand on a rented bike earlier this month, to attempt my first jaunt down the century-old path.

Our guide, Bill Jennings with Lookout Pass Ski and Recreation Area, had hinted at the main attraction of the trail that crosses from North Idaho to Montana: The tunnels.

Especially the first, he said.

"It's long, cold and spooky," he said with a smile. "But people love it."

I had my doubts.

Let's explain a little, first.

What sets apart the 15-mile dirt trail are the sporadic slips through the mountains. Literally, through several cavernous tunnels carved into the rock by toiling laborers in the early 20th century.

The first tunnel, a snaking 1.7 miles, is the longest, and a somewhat dramatic introduction to the trail.

I admit, as photographer Shawn Gust and I rolled our bikes to the mouth, a shiver slipped down my spine.

Maybe it was fear... Or the fact that I had rejected suggestions to wear a jacket.

Too late to turn back.

Allowing my eyes to adjust to the inky blackness, I began to pedal.

Once the darkness closed in, it was a different universe. Nothing ahead but black, and the measly patch of yellow from the bike's headlight, revealing a few feet of damp concrete.

And the chill. The damp, piercing, breath-shortening chill. To my surprise, my body grew numb to it quickly.

Suddenly the blindness was invigorating, freeing, like flying through a vacuum. I pumped as hard as my legs would allow, feeling an occasional splatter from water trickling down.

It was a revelation: The dark and I get along.

A dot of light ahead eventually swelled into the exit, and as we emerged outside the warmth was shocking, like it had been gone for years.

"Take my picture!" I pleaded Gust as we inspected our mud-caked backs.

Not everyone had such a rewarding start.

We paused to chat with Kay Stoutenburg, whose husband Pip had to quit the trail early, after being tended by the trail medic.

He couldn't follow the bike lamps in the tunnel, Kay explained, and kept crashing.

"He bleeds easily," she regretted.

The darkness isn't friends to all.

"His eyes just couldn't get adjusted," she said. "He's a macho man. He kept going."

After the tunnel, it was all a breeze, coasting downhill on a wide dirt path.

To the sides, rolling mountains stretched until they met the sky, as blue and clear as those that start off fairy tales.

It felt eerily remote. It could be yesterday that this forest hid unruly towns that serviced Milwaukee Railroad trains. Most were sprawled with the name Hiawatha, for which the trail is now named.

But it was in 1981 the railroad went out of business, and in the '90s the rail was converted to a biking trail.

The easy downhill course is the main appeal, said Cindy Yost.

The Coeur d'Alene woman had borrowed 11 bikes so her visiting family could give it a shot, she said.

"It's fun for everyone, to have a chance to do something healthy," she said. "And you don't have to be in super great shape to do it."

Or even know how to ride a bike.

One of their group members, a 16-year-old, had never learned before that day.

"She's crashed four or five times," Yost said with a laugh. "But she's having a great time. She keeps saying, 'It's so beautiful!'"

She wasn't alone in her thinking.

For a weekday, there were large gaggles of riders across the trail. Tuesdays have been the busiest days this summer, Jennings said, adding that the trail sees up to 900 riders a day.

"The trail handles it well," he said. "It's so long, people get nice and spread out."

Pat Wakefield stopped on one of the dizzying-high tressels to snap photos with his family.

The Spirit Lake man was still agog at the engineering behind the tunnels, as well as the towering tressels.

"It's almost like building a dam," Wakefield observed. "I kept thinking about how many lives were lost during this project."

Three hours is suggested to complete the trail, Jennings said. But thanks to my impatience on Tuesday, we shaved off about 30 minutes.

At the bottom of the trail, a school bus awaited to drop riders back at the top of the trail.

A little dusty, Stoutenburg and her crew were smiling.

"It was wonderful," said her friend Kathy Johnson.

The vacationing Californians tried the trail on a whim, they said, and admitted to being a little unprepared.

"The tunnels got me. The first tunnel," Johnson said.

But they weren't defeated.

Once they were dropped off by the tunnel, they planned to pedal back to the car.

No sweat.

Well, maybe a little.

But nothing compared to those who laid down those first tracks.

"I'm going to do it," Johnson said. "I want to say I made it all the way back."

The Hiawatha Trail is open daily through Oct. 2. Day tickets are $9 for adults and $6 for children.

Mountain bike rentals are $29 for adults, and $18 for children. Comfort bikes are $34 to rent.

For more information: (208)-744-1301, or www.skilookout.com/hiawatha/trailinfo.php

Alecia Warren is a staff writer for The Press. She can be reached at 664-8176, Ext. 2011, or via email at awarren@cdapress.com.