Culture, Politics, and Lava

We write to you tonight, from Twin Falls, Idaho, after a very full day of sights and conversation.

I was reminded today what a difficult thing it is to sufficiently explain the notion of culture, especially as imbedded in history, to a seven year old. It's not concrete enough, it's filled with exceptions and political and historical contexts, it's just so hard to communicate! Any and all assistance on this front is most welcome! Here's what happened...

We began our day at Fort Hall, outside of Pocatello. Well, actually, we weren't at Fort Hall, we were at the replica of Fort Hall, as the real Fort Hall, as experienced by the Oregon Trail emigrants, doesn't exist in its original form and is also inaccessible as it is now located within reservation land (Shoshone-Bannock). There is a way to see it with enough advance planning (you can hire a tribal guide, which would have been wonderful--thanks again, Julie, for that tip) but as you know, planning is not our specialty, at least on these wild and woolly summer adventures. So there we were at the "pretend" Fort Hall, and Phoebe was, as usual, asking a thousand questions. It all started because there was a tipi in the middle, and Phoebe promptly went inside.



From that point on, she said that she wished she was an Indian (back then, I think) and could sleep on buffalo fur and live in a tipi. She asked of every space (the blacksmith's shop, the sleeping quarters, the kitchen) "So this is where the Indians lived?". I tried, I really tried. It was so hard keeping it all straight--which things belonged to Indians, which things belonged to the military, which things belonged to the emigrants, and how and why and when and where, for as long as her questions lasted (which is pretty much all day).



After more exploration of the fort (it was actually really neat, made of logs, with museum rooms, living quarters, and a trading post -- Phoebe pointed out the red print fabrics, which we learned yesterday were very valuable for trading as the Indians strongly favored red or red print fabrics), we headed north.

Yes, we know we're supposed to be going west, but thanks for pointing that out, we knew we could count on you.

We headed north to see how much we could see of the real site of Fort Hall, by the Snake River. We did see a roadside marker. Of course, at that point, we were on reservation land. Here we go again. Explaining the concept, the implementation, the realities, of reservation land...same deal. Tough. Phoebe started talking about how it was rude of the Indians to not let people see the original Fort Hall, or why they didn't take "good care of it", and I explained that to her satisfaction (whew). Then, of course, she said "so this is Indian land?" (a complicated question in itself, no?), started "looking for Indians", and asking MORE questions, which led to a prolonged discussion of culture, customs, holidays, etc., how all white people weren't the same (you're not kidding), what "customs" and "traditions" are, etc. About now you're probably asking yourself why these conversations lasted all day, and why I didn't change the subject. Have you ever met Phoebe? Okay.

Needless to say, I'm tired.

Being the intrepid travelers that we are, however (and always on the lookout for a good Junior Ranger Program), we decided to take an alternate (read: longer) route so that we could visit Craters of the Moon National Monument. We were delighted to find that we were still on the Oregon Trail, as this is an area in which groups of travelers diverged into two (at least) paths. We followed the one that is called "Goodale's Cutoff", which leads past the huge lava fields of the national monument.

This was a real treat. It was almost like being in Hawaii--they even use the Hawaiian words to describe lava (a'a and pahoehoe), which came as a great surprise (and treat) to me! There were glorious cindercones that took your breath away, like this one:



but Phoebe and I spent most of our time on the Cave Trail, which leads to a series of semi-navigable underground lava tubes.



We had not come well-prepared enough for the adventure of caving in these tubes, though we sorely wished we had. Our flashlights were not bright enough, we didn't have extra batteries, and we should have been wearing long pants. Other than that, though...

Both Phoebe and I were particularly drawn to a lava tube called "Boy Scout Cave", a pitch-black underground lava tube in which there are icicles and an ice-covered floor year-round (it was 96 degrees at the surface, for reference). We tried to go in, but unfortunately, could not progress far enough without better lighting--we did not want to get stuck in there. So we climbed down a short way, into dim light, and then no light, and a precipitous temperature drop (40-50 degree drop in less than 30 vertical feet). It was so cool, in more ways than one! Here's Phoebe, trying to smile in this cold underground space despite her disappointment that we couldn't go further (I had no idea whether she was smiling or not, as when I pressed the shutter, I couldn't see her at all):



We admired the photos of the place in the snow, and promised ourselves that we'd come back someday with headlamps and do the cave all the way down to the ice. Wonderful place.