Showing posts with label US-ID. Show all posts
Showing posts with label US-ID. Show all posts

July 29, 2008

National Parks: Roads Less Traveled

Quick -- name the first three National Parks that come into your head.


1.____________

2.____________

3.____________


If you said, "Yellowstone, Yosemite and the Grand Canyon," or even two out of those three, with, perhaps a Teton or a Bryce or a Glacier in the mix, raise your hand.

OK, arms down. Good answers, great places!

But there are hundreds of other extremely cool National Parks and sites that would love to be on your list. Read about some of them in one of my recent monthly family travel columns, "National Parks: Small is Beautiful." (And forgive the italics; not mine...)

(Photo: Dana inspecting lava and flora at Craters of the Moon in Idaho)



LoriHein.com

January 14, 2008

The Year of the Potato





The United Nations has declared 2008 The Year of the Potato.

Let's see... Do I have a potato story?

Of course I do.

From Ribbons of Highway: A Mother-Child Journey Across America:


At the Big Lost River rest area in Idaho’s high desert, Department of Energy placards outside the bathrooms tried to make us believe that this sagebrush expanse, realm of Idaho National Engineering and Environmental Laboratory (INEEL), a totally nuclear world, was also a wildlife preserve. Thank goodness for this wilderness where scientists could study bobcats, coyotes and pronghorn.

We were primed for something to spice up this long, dry ride, and here it was. “Ahhh, yes, one of our favorite stops on the whole trip was the INEEL wildlife preserve!” We joked that any wildlife studies, whose existence we doubted, wouldn’t be about pronghorn per se, but about how many extra horns pronghorn grew after living in this nuclear wasteland.

Two suspicious men in the rest area parking lot heightened the fun and intrigue. They were traveling separately, in nondescript sedans, and stared at us from behind sunglasses. They read the exhibit information as if they were interested, trying to act like tourists. They didn’t fool us. They weren’t here to stretch their legs or learn about bobcats. We pegged them as FBI or CIA, protecting eastern Idaho’s reactors and nuclear detritus from terrorists, or keeping an eye on activists and celebrity landowners who objected to INEEL’s plan to burn waste contaminated with plutonium.

On top, the land looked dead, dry, innocuous. Below was a honeycomb of stuff we just wanted to drive over and get away from. INEEL stores high-level nuclear waste. Spent naval and nuclear reactor fuel. Surplus plutonium. We imagined what was going on in tunnels under us. We hummed the “doo-DOO-doo-DOO” theme from “The Twilight Zone.”

Radar apparatus, satellite towers and huge communication systems festooned the tops of buttes. No ranches, livestock or towns. Yellow school buses plied dirt roads that shot off the highway. They brought workers to sites like Argonne West. There were scores of reactors out there in the desert, about 50 over a 900-square mile expanse.

We turned up the driveway of EBR-1 -- World’s First Nuclear Power Plant and National Historic Landmark, Open Daily from 9-5, Free to the Public. Adam wanted to tour it, but was voted down three to one. The rest of us found it eerie, looming there at the end of the access road. And nobody was out here but us (and the G-men), making it even creepier.

I made a mental note to try never to get a potato that had spent time in one of the steel Quonset huts or long triangular barns of sod and dirt that lined the highway just east of INEEL. “Hot potatoes,” one of us jeered. Hard to drive through this nuclear desert and then order some fries or a nice big baked with your entrĂ©e. I developed temporary potatophobia in eastern Idaho, one of the planet’s several potato capitals.


www.LoriHein.com

December 07, 2004

A little beefcake with that trout, ma'am?

Ladies, this post's for you. An excerpt from Ribbons of Highway: A Mother-Child Journey Across America, Chapter 9- Mountains: Northeast Wyoming, Montana. In this excerpt, we're about to leave (sigh) Idaho:

In the Conant Valley nearer Wyoming, things turned lush and alive. For single ladies, there may be no better place in the US to see beautiful men than Swan Valley, Idaho, on the South Fork of the Snake River. The Snake here is liquid art. Broad and bending, light sage green, it rushes with small white water, and drifts in silvery ripples. Fingers of treed islands and peninsulas cut and divide it, and wader-clad fishermen cast their arcing lines into its flow, lit by a movie set sun.

Swan Valley's population is 260, and it seemed to me a good percentage of that number are fit, gorgeous men, many young, many blond, all quite stupendous. Sit a spell in South Fork Outfitters (where fish-shaped bottles hold the bathroom soap, and a poster above the sink reads, "For Those Who Appreciate the Finer Things in Life, Like Hands That Smell of Fish"). Pick yourself out a fetching paid of hipwaders. But, before you cast your line, for fish or man, you'd better know your way around a driftboat and how to tie a damn good fly, because these boys aren't about looking pretty. They're about serious flyfishing. Looky-loos and dilettantes might earn five polite minutes of their time.

Copyright Lori Hein, 2004. Excerpted from Ribbons of Highway: A Mother-Child Journey Across America