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Pics for the day
I'd stopped off for the night at a lovely little Hampton Inn in Mountain Home, Idaho. Grown fond of Hampton on my various trips, though their prices have gone up a bit in the last couple of years. Finally had good internet service. Expansive breakfast. And it didn't hurt that the staff seemed to consist mainly of charming young ladies.
Spent much of the day driving across the Idaho countryside. (Fortunately, the GPS, having had the night off to reset itself, worked just fine.) It was almost entirely unpopulated. More mountains than I'd expected. More cows, too (though, in truth, not that many). I saw one field that could maybe possibly have been growing potatoes, but no more than that. I have no idea where all the potatoes actually were. Most of what I saw was endless patches of scrub brush, one of which turned out to (somewhat randomly, as far as I can tell) have been designated a National Forest.
In the middle of a long stretch of road through said scrub brush, I noticed a decades-old plastic sign off the side of the road advertising Pepsi. Behind it was about the most beat-up, dilapidated, sketchy-looking, ramshackle old wooden building I'd seen (not counting long-abandoned farmhouses) in some time. The sign said it was a hotel. I think it was actually open. Later, I realized that it was probably a hunting lodge, since I'd seen several turn-offs with little signs announcing "sportsman access."
Also along the highway were historical sites... which turned out to be little pull-out areas in what would otherwise be the shoulder of the highway. There would be a large sign at each... and not much more. A view of miles and miles of empty and unmarked scrub brush. But there was a branch of the Oregon Trail that went through the area, and I'm sure there was plenty of history involving the natives. Still... kind of underwhelming, as historical sites go.
On the radio, I heard ads for a drag racing meetup, apparantly a big annual one in southern Idaho. (There was also, as it happened, a big motorcycle gathering in South Dakota shortly before my arrival.) What attracted my attention was the name. And, to some degree, the location. It was at High Desert Speedway, which was, according to the ad, "just 5 miles past the stoplight" in Gooding. What amused me more, though, is that the name of the event was "Thunder On The Butte." (It's pronounced "beaut," but still... Okay, fine. Maybe I'm being juvenile. It still amused me.)
Made it across state route 20 to Craters of the Moon National Park. It's a vast area of lava flows with odd rock formations and unusual plants. NASA has used it in testing to simulate conditions on Mars.
I drove around the park and took a couple of walks along short trails. Pics and a couple of videos are linked at the top.
Went to explore at least one of the "caves" (not technically caves, since they're actually just holes in the lava flows). It was a mile-long walk down a paved path over the rocky hills. In summer desert heat with black lava rock all over. It was a bit of a trek. The trail split at one point, one end going to a single cave, the other going to "Boy Scout Cave" (known for having been explored by a troop of scouts, and for having an entrance small enough that you pretty much had to be a small child to get in) and to "Beauty Cave." I decided that two chances at caves were better than one, particularly when one of them is named "Beauty Cave." I got there to find some people coming out with a heavy-duty flashlight. Kicked myself for not having thought of that and for having left my little flashlight in the car. Decided to go see the cave anyway.
It was a treacherous climb down over loose, sharp rock:
At the bottom, there was... darkness. It did, however, feel surprisingly, refreshingly cool. Cool enough that I saw my breath misting in the air, despite the scorching heat topside.
I waited a few minutes to see if any of the people who'd been behind me on the trail (and might have flashlights) would catch up, but they didn't. So I climbed back up and started on the trail back, warning people as I passed that they should have their flashlights ready, but that they could expect major relief from the heat. One of them told me that, no, they didn't have a flashlight, but that they'd decided to go to the cave that didn't require one. I looked at the brochure in my hand (which I'd glanced over without reading the main text). Sure enough, the other branch of the path would have taken me to a cave with natural openings in the ceiling which let in enough light to see by without a flashlight... and also had a nice, easy staircase to help visitors get down to the bottom. Brilliant.
But it was late and I was tired so I decided to skip it. Got into the car and headed over to my next stop - the new home of my old college roommate, his wife, and their 16-month-old daughter. Was good to see him again and meet the baby and all that. We stayed up late chatting and playing games.
I'd stopped off for the night at a lovely little Hampton Inn in Mountain Home, Idaho. Grown fond of Hampton on my various trips, though their prices have gone up a bit in the last couple of years. Finally had good internet service. Expansive breakfast. And it didn't hurt that the staff seemed to consist mainly of charming young ladies.
Spent much of the day driving across the Idaho countryside. (Fortunately, the GPS, having had the night off to reset itself, worked just fine.) It was almost entirely unpopulated. More mountains than I'd expected. More cows, too (though, in truth, not that many). I saw one field that could maybe possibly have been growing potatoes, but no more than that. I have no idea where all the potatoes actually were. Most of what I saw was endless patches of scrub brush, one of which turned out to (somewhat randomly, as far as I can tell) have been designated a National Forest.
In the middle of a long stretch of road through said scrub brush, I noticed a decades-old plastic sign off the side of the road advertising Pepsi. Behind it was about the most beat-up, dilapidated, sketchy-looking, ramshackle old wooden building I'd seen (not counting long-abandoned farmhouses) in some time. The sign said it was a hotel. I think it was actually open. Later, I realized that it was probably a hunting lodge, since I'd seen several turn-offs with little signs announcing "sportsman access."
Also along the highway were historical sites... which turned out to be little pull-out areas in what would otherwise be the shoulder of the highway. There would be a large sign at each... and not much more. A view of miles and miles of empty and unmarked scrub brush. But there was a branch of the Oregon Trail that went through the area, and I'm sure there was plenty of history involving the natives. Still... kind of underwhelming, as historical sites go.
On the radio, I heard ads for a drag racing meetup, apparantly a big annual one in southern Idaho. (There was also, as it happened, a big motorcycle gathering in South Dakota shortly before my arrival.) What attracted my attention was the name. And, to some degree, the location. It was at High Desert Speedway, which was, according to the ad, "just 5 miles past the stoplight" in Gooding. What amused me more, though, is that the name of the event was "Thunder On The Butte." (It's pronounced "beaut," but still... Okay, fine. Maybe I'm being juvenile. It still amused me.)
Made it across state route 20 to Craters of the Moon National Park. It's a vast area of lava flows with odd rock formations and unusual plants. NASA has used it in testing to simulate conditions on Mars.
I drove around the park and took a couple of walks along short trails. Pics and a couple of videos are linked at the top.
Went to explore at least one of the "caves" (not technically caves, since they're actually just holes in the lava flows). It was a mile-long walk down a paved path over the rocky hills. In summer desert heat with black lava rock all over. It was a bit of a trek. The trail split at one point, one end going to a single cave, the other going to "Boy Scout Cave" (known for having been explored by a troop of scouts, and for having an entrance small enough that you pretty much had to be a small child to get in) and to "Beauty Cave." I decided that two chances at caves were better than one, particularly when one of them is named "Beauty Cave." I got there to find some people coming out with a heavy-duty flashlight. Kicked myself for not having thought of that and for having left my little flashlight in the car. Decided to go see the cave anyway.
It was a treacherous climb down over loose, sharp rock:
At the bottom, there was... darkness. It did, however, feel surprisingly, refreshingly cool. Cool enough that I saw my breath misting in the air, despite the scorching heat topside.
I waited a few minutes to see if any of the people who'd been behind me on the trail (and might have flashlights) would catch up, but they didn't. So I climbed back up and started on the trail back, warning people as I passed that they should have their flashlights ready, but that they could expect major relief from the heat. One of them told me that, no, they didn't have a flashlight, but that they'd decided to go to the cave that didn't require one. I looked at the brochure in my hand (which I'd glanced over without reading the main text). Sure enough, the other branch of the path would have taken me to a cave with natural openings in the ceiling which let in enough light to see by without a flashlight... and also had a nice, easy staircase to help visitors get down to the bottom. Brilliant.
But it was late and I was tired so I decided to skip it. Got into the car and headed over to my next stop - the new home of my old college roommate, his wife, and their 16-month-old daughter. Was good to see him again and meet the baby and all that. We stayed up late chatting and playing games.
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