Recently my camera and I took a week-long trip to southern Idaho to visit the western division of the Strong family; I returned with plenty of photographs … and a much greater appreciation for trees. If you haven’t already read them, you can see the previous day’s adventures here.
I hear Montana’s eyes follow you around Idaho
Nanny and I decided Wednesday would be the perfect morning for an important bit of sightseeing: a visit to a local coffeeshop in the old downtown of Mountain Home. The old downtown seems to be Mountain Home’s version of the town of Radiator Springs: it used to be The Place To Be, but then the interstate put down roots a couple miles away and a busier commercial strip sprouted closer to the highway; as a result, the old downtown doesn’t see much foot traffic. This scene has played out time and time again in towns that have had highways built nearby, and it’s always sad to see the death — or, I suppose, the transportationally-induced coma — of a downtown.
Anyway, when we arrived downtown, we found ourselves walking into a place called Moxie Java. It had two crucially important elements of a good coffeshop: tasty coffee and free wireless internet (hint hint Starbucks, free is okay sometimes). After we enjoyed the coffee (and the internet, thanks to my iPod), we took advantage of Moxie Java’s location to take a brief walk and get a few pictures of the old downtown. One of those pictures featured a set of road signs giving all kinds of directions:
This picture is worth exploring for an important reason: it features an Idaho state road sign at the bottom left of the group. Why is that notable, you ask? Because of what it reveals about Montana, I answer! Look closely at the sign and you’ll see what Granny noticed right away: the profile of a face looking at Idaho. Yes, that’s right: Montana spends its days staring at Idaho. Why? I don’t know; maybe it likes potatoes. Or blue turf. But whatever the reason, I’m surprised Idaho hasn’t gotten a restraining order against Montana. I mean, seriously … that’s kind of creepy. Couldn’t Montana look at Wyoming for a while? Or the Dakota Twins? Or Canada?
Not enough altitude so I make big
After lunch, we explored the Mountain Home area a bit more; as we drove through the countryside around the city, we were again confronted with the stark beauty of the southern Idaho landscape.
As you can see, that landscape features a great deal of open space and scrub brush and OH MY GOODNESS THERE’S A GORGEOUS MOUNTAIN OVER THERE IT’S SO BIG AND SO NOT FLAT and the occasional house and pretty much nothing else. Is that an accurate description? I think so.
How many toddlers per gallon do you get?
During our exploration, we happened upon a most curious use of a building built for a very, very different purpose:
Sadly, they didn’t have their rates posted on a tall sign out front. But if they had been posted, they probably would have ended in 9/10 of a cent. Also, I bet they’d try to sell you a discounted bath with every full day of child care.
What are you dune up there?
Later in the afternoon Erin packaged up the kids and we all headed southeast out of town. We drove for about 20 minutes through the same Idaho landscape pictured earlier in the post and in the day 1 post (but without the mountain because we were headed in the other direction); at some point we crossed a river and turned left, and shortly after the river we made a right turn into a state park. The main feature of that state park — a sand dune — was a familiar sight for those of us who have spent time on Michigan’s wonderful west coast.
Since the park’s name is Bruneau Dunes State Park, the gigantic sand dune made sense; however, after gazing at mile after mile of land that was either flat and open or mountainous and open but was all decidedly not sandy or duney, the gigantic sand dune was a little bit unexpected. But the dune was still impressive, and the clear blue sky only made it even better for pictures. And as we all know, when something is better for pictures, it’s just plain better.
The purpose for our trip to the dune might sound a little strange: we were there to go sledding. Yes, I am aware there was no snow on the dune. Yes, I am aware most people sled on snow. Yes, I am aware sled sounds like it could be a valid past-tense of slide. But Justin and Erin had taken the kids sledding on the dunes once before, and sledding on dunes isn’t just for snowy days: it can be a year-round activity.
Unfortunately, instead of sliding down the dune, the sleds seemed determined to sink into the sand, so the sledding didn’t work out too well this time. But we still had fun climbing the dune and enjoying the view.
After we were done climbing, the kids enjoyed playing on and around the dune; Elisha seemed determined to transfer the entire dune to one of the sleds, though I’m not sure what he intended to do with it after the transfer was complete.
As the kids played, I took some time to photograph more of the scenery because … well, that’s what I do. I mean, I thought that was obvious already. Anyway, there was plenty to photograph, a fact whose factiness I’ll demonstrate with even more pictures to go with the seventillion hundred I’ve already shown.
Those of you who had a proper 1980s childhood will remember the classic Indian in the Cupboard books in which a boy named Omri discovers that a cupboard and one special key can make his small plastic toys come to life — first and most notably a small plastic Indian named Little Bear. There are plenty of crazy adventures that sprout from this discovery, but the craziest of them all happens when Omri discovers burglars breaking into his house and brings to life a number of tiny Marines to fight them off. Of course, the burglars are thoroughly nonplussed when they encounter an unexpected hail of tiny bullets — you’d freak out, too! — and they leave empty-handed.
I bring this up because it happened to be a very windy day when we visited the dune, and every gust of wind brought with it a volley of sand that reminded me of that particular adventure. Sand is just a bunch of tiny little rocks that sting when they hit exposed skin, and the feeling of the sand hitting my skin brought back that one particular part of a book I hadn’t thought about in years.
Sand does something else when it’s flying through the air: it gets everywhere. My camera didn’t suffer any real damage, but sand did get into the buttons on the back — something I realized when, on the ride back, I pressed the review button to look through my pictures … and the button stayed down for about thirty seconds before returning to normal. Still, I think my camera got off easier than I did; I was chewing on sand the rest of the day, and when I reached up to scratch an itch on my head later that evening, I discovered sand embedded in my hair. I don’t know for sure, but I think if you check my DNA, you might find sand from Idaho mixed in with all the usual information. (Figure that one out, Horatio Caine!)
Come back soon for the next installment of the Famous Potato Diaries, which will feature Mitch Hedberg. Well, okay, not Mitch Hedberg himself, but a hilarious piece of his hilariously hilarious comedy. Did I mention his comedy is funny? Good, because it’s not funny: it’s hilarious.
