It started well… but things took a turn for the worse later in the day.
I thought I should do a short run this morning. I was slow and definitely still feeling the aches and pains of the races. But I’m hoping to have a huckleberry shake and felt like I needed to earn it.
It’s beautiful around here and the temperatures are a very pleasant 68 degrees in the morning. NPR keeps doing stories on the record heatwaves blanketing and blistering the country … and while that’s super important to have climate change discussions.. and people need to be smart about hydration and checking in family and friends and neighbors, it all seems like fairly common sense stuff. Good reminders but seriously there’s some crazy stuff happening in the world and we need to not lose sight of that either.
But it is hot. No question of that. Just not as hot here in Idaho at the moment.
***
I had never heard of the Craters of The Moon National Monument and Preserve. My AirBNB host told me about it when I said I was heading out to Arco, AKA Atomic City. She warned me that it was a pretty desolate place but if I went a bit past it I’d come to this really cool, surreal, otherworldly lava field, a 750,000 acre wonderland of rock and sagebrush. I’m always up for otherworldly. And I’m always up for a road trip to strange sights.
So here’s a shot from the road itself – I assume in the middle of road, anything is fair game. Gives new meaning to the term “roadkill.”
Anyway, onward. It turns out Arco is NOT Atomic City. That’s something else (more on that in a moment). What Arco IS is the first city powered by atomic energy, making it an atomic city (lower case “a”).
It’s a small town and I stopped on my way back for photos and lunch but thought I should hit the farthest point first on my road trip, lest I be tempted to just skip it and turn around for a shorter ride back to the AirBNB. So on I went…
Robert Limbert spent several years documenting landscape and published his pics and observations in a massive National Geographic spread. Calvin Coolidge used the 1906 Antiquities Act to proclaim the place a National Monument and called it “a weird and scenic landscape, peculiar to itself.”
I made it to the Visitors Center and pondered the 7-mile driving loop and various hikes that were on offer. Just as I was about to head out, I heard the Ranger tell another guest that this area was free but the drive and hikes had a $20 per car admission fee.
I’m a cheap guy, I know. I have my limits. And had it been $10 I wouldn’t have even hesitated. Fifteen and I might have hemmed and hawed but I would’ve plunked down my MasterCard. But twenty bucks, two Alexander Hamiltons, just seemed a bit steep.
Besides, I was alone. And I don’t usually mind day tripping and sightseeing solo, but sometimes it’s more fun with somebody else. As I watched the surprisingly good documentary “infomercial” in the visitors center, and wandered the freebie grounds of the park’s outskirts, I thought how much more fun I’d have here with my brother. Years ago he and I went to South Dakota to run the Deadwood Marathon (still one of the tougher runs I’ve done). And along the way we went to Mount Rushmore, Devil’s Tower, and the Badlands. If I had my complete photo album hard drive I’d post a pic or two from those days. But just know it was a great brothers trip and I found myself missing Steve and wishing he were here to clamber about with me. So I made a vow that some day I’d come back to this place and he and I would do just that. I don’t think that was just an attempt to rationalize not paying the $20 either.
A quick note though about the Craters of the Moon before I post some long lens shots — NASA used this place for the Apollo astronauts to train on moon-based missions in the 1960s. Today they’re using ti again to simulate a Mars landing for someone other than Matt Damon. And I can understand why — it has the terrain and feel of “the moon as seen through a telescope,” which is how geologist Harold T. Stearns described the area in 1923.
As it was getting on to noon, I thought I’d stop by one of the Roadside America highlights — the RA reviewers raved about the Atomic Burger at Pickle’s Place in Arco, ID.
Here’s the thing about the Atomic Burger — it was okay. The bun was a disappointment and the burger itself was adequate. It felt like a tourist trap… and I walked right into it.
Across the street from Pickle’s Place though was the Idaho Science Center… it was really more of a shed than anything else….
Oh, and the Devil’s Conning Tower of course:
By the way, that museum shed was SO top secret… you couldn’t even get inside. And believe me, I tried:
On the drive back to Idaho Falls, I stopped at the EBR-I Atomic Museum. This was the first power pant in the world to produce usable electricity using atomic energy. Their self-guided tour has a weird notation though:
So wait — did this thing just generate enough electricity to power itself? Turns out, no… it’s just a weirdly written intro.
The docent at the door said I had just missed a tour so I could either catch up to them or just go on my own. I didn’t need a full 90 minute tour (it’s not that big of a place… even if it IS a nuclear power plant), so I went with Option B. Ya know, for “By Myself.”
I ambled and shuffled and read along and got a little bored and then took some photos. I overheard some of the various tours going round and honestly it was fairly interesting but VERY thorough — a little too thorough for my “just passing through” attention span. I did however appreciate them pointing out the Emergency Shut-Down button:
In any case, some stray photos from my walkabout:
So as I was reading the last room’s plaque, a woman in a safety vest came by and told me I had to stay in the building and rejoin my group. I was puzzled as I was in the building and then held up my “self-guided tour” pamphlet saying, “What group? I’m here by myself.”
“Oh,” she said, “I thought you were with that school group.”
“No.”
“Well, doesn’t matter. You have to head up front and stay here in the building. We have a shipment coming in and we’ll let you know when you can leave.” And with that she walked off. I was really confused and walked back to the front door. I asked the docent I had spoken to when I first arrived what was happening and she explained that it would only be 20 minutes — they had to move some equipment and no one could leave. “What?” I said. I saw the informational signpost at the front of the building:
This place isn’t in operation anymore. I have to be honest, I felt like the woman in the vest had been rude in the first instance (it’s hard to convey her tone in the above but know that it was… passive aggressive). She actually struck me as a bit of a bully… and I don’t much care for bullies. I feel like they only derive their power when people fail to stand up to them and call them out. Unfortunately my solution is to return the bullying passive-aggressive language with my own passive-aggressive acts. It’s not a good look on me and I have to admit I was a bit of a jerk here. But I didn’t like being held hostage either. When I told the docent that maybe they should warn people they could be detained here she said they never know when they’re going to do these things. Another guy, either the teacher of the school group or a docent or just a know-it-all, intervened to tell me that they normally do these things at 2 AM so they minimize inconvenience. Another guest chimed in, “yeah, but it’s not 2 AM.” The know-it-all said, “Welcome to Idaho!”
I shook my head in dismay and asked if they had any idea how long this would take. The docent said, “Fifteen, 20 minutes… maybe more. At least we aren’t sheltering in place from the tornadoes like last week; that was 3 hours!” I sighed heavily, resigned to being kept here against my will.
So here’s where it went even more pear-shaped. The know-it-all asked me where I was from. I for some reason took real umbrage at that… partly because on the drive out here I lost NPR and as I spun the dial past religious stations, country stations, the same 3 classic rock songs on two stations, and FOUR stations with Rush Limbaugh spitting his right wing conspiracies. I didn’t say this but in the back of my head I thought, “What do you mean where am I from? Is this a question of my citizenship?” Maybe he was just trying to pass the time with idle chit-chat but ya know what? I was in no mood for that. Option B — By Myself, Mr. Know-It-All. But where am I from? I’m an American, born and raised, and I believe in freedoms and treating people decently. I’m sure I was over-reacting to the whole thing but it all felt so… creepy.
Twenty minutes later, we were “released.” As I walked out into the fresh air, I still had a bad taste in my mouth. It kinda ruined my day — I let them ruin my day and I was complicit in ruining my day as I was a just as if not more of a passive-aggressive jerk. It made for a knot in my stomach and for feelings of regret. I regretted going to the place. I regretted how they acted and my not voicing my feelings in a firm but respectful manner. I regretted how I acted.
I found myself, you might say, in a depressed area:
Seriously — who would build something like this? And why would you label it? And put a guard rail around it. Just fill in the hole.
***
As I started driving back to Idaho Falls, I passed signs telling me I would reach Atomic City. I missed the turn off and shrugged my shoulders. I had lost my enthusiasm. I was in a snit and I decided who the hell cared about Atomic City? I had wanted it to be like the opening of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008). A lot of you may have blocked out that installment in the adventures of Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., but it opens with him surviving a nuclear bomb test by sealing himself inside a lead lined fridge.
Re-reading the Roadside America description, I don’t think it would’ve looked like this:
***
When one is despondent and melancholy, when all you want to do is scream, there is one thing I (sometimes) scream:
I’ll be your huckleberry… malt.
It was very good… and very decadent. I wish I could say it turned the day completely around — it helped, to be sure — but I also found myself thinking, “Was this a good decision or merely a rationalization?”
And I thought, “Maybe I should’ve run a bit farther this morning….”
***
By the way, to bookend this post, here’s a highway sign that seemed like something I should put here.
All my routes seem to be marathon routes.
