Where Astronauts Tread
The state of Idaho is more than just potatoes. Agriculture abounds, but past the verdant valleys, there is a wasteland covered in lava. The eruption was centuries ago, but still the destruction remains. There can never be livestock or farm fields here. In the distance, the cinder cones quietly sit. There’s a menace to the silent hills, an unspoken threat. You never know when they might erupt again…
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/dc989SwYpnywP4Mj8
May 27th, 2023 - Grand Teton Day 1
We began our Idaho day in Utah. Having caught a late flight to Salt Lake City the night before, we hadn’t ventured far. After a hearty breakfast, we traversed quiet streets to the Utah State Capitol building. It’s been our habit to tour capitol buildings when we can during our travels. To date, we’ve seen Arizona, Indiana, and Kentucky. When we arrived, we were surprised to discover a book festival hosting an event in the grand rotunda. Between the marble columns milled women in ball gowns, men dressed as elves, and even someone disguised as a skeletal grim reaper. While I quite enjoyed the beautiful paintings and intricate sculpting of the building, the book characters were quite entertaining as well!
Just a block or two down the street, we walked across the grounds for Temple Square. The iconic Mormon temple has been under renovation for years, so we were unable to experience the massive grandeur of the building. However, the other buildings were quite lovely! The sound of music drew us into the domed Mormon Tabernacle, where we listened to the organist rehearse on the famous organ. The tabernacle itself is a plain building, with a tall domed ceiling over wooden-pillared balconies. The simplicity of the space draws the eye forward to the hulking wood and metal instrument dominating the front. It’s an impressive thing, and even more so when it is played! Hymns played on an organ are the antithesis of contemporary music. The notes swallow the listener in a holy baptism of sound. They inspire a kind of Old Testament reverence, a silent awe in the midst of something magnificently powerful.
After we were sufficiently awestruck, we got in the car and headed north to Idaho. There are no national parks in Idaho, but it’s a beautiful state nonetheless. Under a cloudy sky, lush valleys are vibrantly green and the mountains a cool blue. Agriculture is abundant, of course. Leggy calves trot alongside their docile mothers in expansive pastures. Freshly-planted fields roll brownly in gentle hills. Grain bins are more abundant than houses.
In the center of this agricultural Hallmark card, the scenery suddenly shifts. The grass dwindles and yellows. Sagebrush pushes through a dry soil. Black rocks begin piling up unevenly. Some areas have rocks that are nearly cubical, all edges. Other areas feature ropy layers stacked thickly. It’s a burnt, wasted region. It’s the ancient leftovers of volcanoes.
Craters of the Moon National Monument has a unique history. In 1969, Apollo 14 astronauts walked this ruined landscape to prepare for the volcano-marked surface of the moon. While the craters of the moon are largely formed by meteorites, there are still many similarities between the moon and the park. It’s a surreal thought. We’ll never walk on the moon, but in a little park in Idaho, we can feel what it’s like. How cool is that?
Ours was a tamed experience of the moon. We drove the scenic loop drive, stopping at various points to walk paved paths to viewpoints. There were no spacesuits, no out-of-atmosphere experiences. Still, we were able to climb one of the cinder cones (a steep uphill jaunt!) to experience what lava must see when it first bursts from the ground. It’s a 360 degree view from the top, puffy clouds topping blue and green mountains. Cars crawl like beetles below. A solitary tree clings to the side of the volcano with fingerlike roots. A ferocious wind threatens to push you over the side. In its own blackened, charred way, a volcano is beautiful.
We also got to peek into the holes of a few spatter cones. These are miniature volcanoes, little vents in the earth’s surface where lava comes popping out to alleviate pressure. Acne spots of the earth. They’re just scars now, hills with holes. One spatter cone was so deep that it still had snow nestled in the bottom of the hole. Fittingly, it was named Snow Cone.
We finished the day in Idaho Falls. It’s a small town with a rushing river and a gleaming white Mormon temple. Following the suggestion of a bearded phone salesman in the local Walmart, we ate dinner at a restaurant called Surfin’ Fins. I had a mandarin chicken salad; Tyler had a chicken sandwich called “Hot Chick.”
You can’t find that on the moon.
Hiking trails:
Devil’s Orchard Nature Trail
Inferno Cone
Snow Cone and Spatter Cones
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