Craters, Cracks, Ribs, and the Pocatello 500–June 22-28

Greetings from the Super 8 in sunny Pocatello, Idaho: home of the prestigious Pocatello 500 race, also known as Friday night rush hour! Sweet baby Jesus, all of the Earnhardts evidently live here and want to kill us via ill-advised, sudden left turns at unholy speeds in front of the Craggin’ Wagon! I fully expected my father-in-law, a photographer for the Indy 500, to document our demise coming out of turn 3!  Really, I wasn’t even planning on contributing to this blog, but I am in fact terrified to leave this hotel room!

Anyhoo, our week began with a rest day at Craters of the Moon National Monument, a large volcanic area along the Great Rift and above the Snake River Plain. The Shoshone tribe had long explored these lands until Oregon Trail people happened upon it, ironically, in an effort to find a safer passage that avoided skirmishes with, um, the Shoshone tribe. A dude named Limbert, who apparently was also a traveling trick shooter (I swear I am not making this up), did a ton of exploring and documenting of the area. In 1924, Silent Cal designated the area as a monument, and in 2019 the Raffs came to visit.

We spent a few minutes checking out the visitors’ center, which had some neat information on geological history, current wildlife, and different types of lava. According to the exhibit, the craters were formed by an enormous eruption 15,000 years ago and reshaped every few thousand years—the last one coming around 2,000 years ago. A friendly electronic voice assured us that “now is a great time to explore the Craters of the Moon before the next cataclysmic event.” Before leaving, one must stop to get a cave permit, which is a nifty stamp of a bat that grants you entry into the caves because you haven’t worn today’s outfit in any other cave within the past 10 years (apparently, there is some sort of terrible bat-killing disease that can survive on your clothes for a decade). Having procured this nifty stamp (that no one ever checked), we also landed a campsite nestled (wait, nestled?) into the lava. Sarah got a great piece of van porn for your viewing pleasure.

Highlights of the area included, the Devil’s Orchard, the Inferno Cone, a two-mile hike to see tree molds, and the caves. The Devil’s Orchard was interesting because it really captured the disruption that humans can have on something even as barren as lava but also the potential of nature to replenish itself—in one spot, you had ghostly witches’ broom created by misguided park service workers and broken lava tubes courtesy of human boots, but at the same time, Limbert pines (remember that trick shootin’ lava lovin’ explorer?), tiny pink monkeyflowers, and masses of green sage grew right out of the lava. Eventually, almost the entirety of the monument could be green, unless the volcanic cycle repeats.  The orchard ended with a great Shoshone proverb, “The frog does not drink up its own pond.” For me, it was a nice reminder not to love our mountains, trails, and rocks to death.

The Inferno Cone was probably my favorite part of the day—it was a short hike up to a high viewpoint. From the top, we enjoyed a panoramic view of cinder cones along the rift. The most notable, and most beautiful, was the Big Cinder Butte, one of the world’s largest cones (not to be confused with any ice cream cone that Sarah purchases). Balanced by a beautiful blue sky with low-lying fluffy white clouds and green mountains in the background, this view was truly spectacular! The hike and the caves were both fun, but the Inferno Cone was the part I will remember about Craters of the Moon.

Climbers, have patience, I will eventually get back to the rocks. However, Sunday’s breakfast in Rupert, Idaho at a place known as Sophie’s Chatterbox was one for the ages. This diner is a cool little place with signs that really spoke to me…things like “I love you like biscuits and gravy” and “Watch out—I’m about to put on my fat pants!” I ordered the plate-sized garbage burrito for $7.00 and was rewarded with 3 types of breakfast meat, hashbrowns, various other vegetables, and cheese in a giant tortilla—it was everything I needed it to be. Incidentally, Rupert’s town square, featuring the classy Wilson Theater, is on the National Register of Historic Sites. In 1902, the Reclamation Act made way for the Minidoka Dam Project (and later, the Bonneville and Grand Coulee Dams, I believe), which pretty much made Rupert the place to be. Due to hydroelectricity, in 1913, their school became the first in the nation to be heated entirely by electricity.

So, I realize this is a mostly a climbing blog, and we got a ton of good granite in this week. Everyone knows that Sarah is the real talent in our marriage (I would like to say I was only referring to rock climbing, but some of you may be trying to swallow food while reading this), and I am really not that great. It was pretty cool for me, then, to jump out of the car that Sunday and run right up my first 5.10 lead in the city. Sarah led it after me and said it met the test, which made me happy.

On Monday, after yet another 10 hours sleep (yep, we are averaging double digits of shut-eye), we pulled some classic trad lines at Elephant Rock—really fun stuff—including Wheat Thin, Columbian Crack, and Conceptual Reality. You have to use good crack climbing technique on these, and we got in our share of jams. Sarah wanted to lead Rye Crisp, but the sun was blazing, and the route was crowded. We moved up the road, and she put up a super fun 5.10 sport called New York is Not the City—steep down low with slabby crimps up top…good stuff!

The highlight of the climbing week, though, was the Red Rib, an old-school 5.10 at Castle Rocks State Park that is nearly 200 feet long. The first crux is at the bottom, but there is a place about halfway up that is really steep with really thin edges for feet and fingers—Sarah later noted the route should be called “Gotta’ Have Faith”! Anyway, she led it really, really well, and I was just happy to climb it. She won’t ever say it, so I will say it for her, she friggin’ rocks!

Our good friend Karen joined us for the final two days of our City of Rocks tour, and it was really fun to hang out. We had some fun climbing together, enjoyed some pizza and suds, had a great campfire, and scrambled up above camp for some pretty killer sunsets (for some reason, when Karen showed up, the nightly gales disappeared). Sarah and I often talk about how lucky we are to have so many kind people in our lives, and Karen will be one that we greatly miss this year.

City of Rocks was a great first stop, and somewhere we will definitely return! The ease of cragging and camping, the sweet granite playground everywhere we turned, the novelty of van life, and the super slow nights of downtime melted away the stress. Before joining the Pocatello 500 today, we showered and dressed nice—we both look younger than when we left—the bags are gone from under our eyes. Life is pretty good when we slow down…hopefully, someone will tell the people of Pocatello!

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