Blog Archives

Amidst the Falls

Posted on by Michael Vogt / Leave a comment

On a visit to Ritter Island, Michael Vogt created a photographic portfolio and recorded an interview with Daisy Welch, a knowledgeable volunteer for Thousand Springs State Park, to which Ritter Island belongs. Following is a transcript of Daisy’s story about the site:

In 1914, a real estate couple from Salt Lake City, Lee and Minnie Miller, received this property for back taxes and back payment.
Minnie Miller, who was forty-seven, took one look at the property and she said, “That’s where I want to raise my prize show cattle.” Her husband thought it was kind of a nutty idea, but he deeded the property over to her.

She started putting up all these buildings you see here. She imported her breeding stock from the Isle of Guernsey in the British Isles, and the foundation cows grazed right there. She did a breeding program­­—she was a member of Guernsey Breeding Association and the Idaho Dairy Association —and she built up this whole property. If you visit the barn, you’ll see what was state-of-the-art in the 1920s. It now looks a little old school to us. Continue reading

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Look, There’s a Crow

Posted on by Havilah Workman / Leave a comment

We could hold a birding festival in American Falls.”

Todd Winter’s voice came through the phone loud and clear, but I was nevertheless confused. A birding festival?

My experience with birds up to that point was the flock of chickens in my backyard. Were we going to stand around and compare egg production among different varieties?

He laughed good-naturedly at my bewilderment.

“No, no, a birding festival is where you watch birds out in nature. You take notes, take pictures, things like that. People will come from all over the U.S.—all over the world, really—to observe a rare bird in its habitat. We have some of the best birding available in America, right here in our backyard, and no one seems to know it!”

His enthusiasm showed through brightly, but I was skeptical. This was little ol’ American Falls, population 4,400. We had potatoes, wheat, and sugar beets. We had a reservoir that filled up in the spring but by fall was a muddy, willow- and bug-infested flat that was worthless for tourists. We had farmers, not tourists, and wasn’t there a reason for that? Surely if we were a mecca for birds, someone would have noticed by now.

Continue reading

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Cowboys in the Distance

Posted on by Andrew Weeks / Leave a comment

Four years ago, when I first visited Stricker Ranch, formerly called Rock Creek Station, I had no idea it would become one of my favorite places.

Since that first visit, I’ve returned many times to the property, which lies along the Oregon Trail about six miles south of Hansen in Idaho’s Magic Valley. I always enjoy imagining the history of the area, walking the trail, and talking with the caretaker, Gary Guy.

On a sunny but chilly day in early winter of 2012, Gary agreed to answer questions for a book I was writing about purported hauntings in the area. By then, we met as friends. I had heard stories about the old-style ranch house being haunted, and one of the first questions I had for him was if he had experienced anything paranormal while living there. Gary, who has a white beard and was wearing a light jacket that day, quickly confessed that he was a skeptic, but yes, something had happened that he couldn’t explain: shower curtains had moved of their own accord.

“Hmm,” I said. “Tell me about it.” Continue reading

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Our Town on the Fourth

Posted on by Conrad Vogel / Leave a comment

For this issue, we asked our more than 20,000 Facebook followers to send in images of the Fourth of July in their hometowns. Some of those shots are on these pages, and Clark Fork resident Conrad Vogel added commentary that deserves publication.

My earliest memory of Clark Fork on the Fourth of July is walking in the parade with my older brother and sister when I was six. I was Johnny Appleseed. The last time I was in the parade, I drove my ‘58 GMC truck. I’m forty-three and have been in Clark Fork most of my life, graduating from Clark Fork High School in 1988. The Fourth hasn’t changed much here over the decades. Continue reading

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For Love of Dreams

Posted on by Katie Ann Olsen / Leave a comment

When my father, Richard Olsen, was a high school senior in 1954, he discovered what he would later name “Idaho’s Mammoth Cave” while hunting bobcats in the desert outside of Shoshone.

At the time, he was with his high school girlfriend, and stumbled across the entrance by accident. Forgotten over time, it had previously been known only by ancient tribes and early white settlers who utilized the cave for shelter and storage.

“I talked my girlfriend Vinita into exploring the cavern with just a single flashlight. As my excitement and imagination grew, expecting to find treasure at any moment. Vinita, scared and unhappy, cried the whole way in and the whole way out.”

But for my father, it was love at first sight and he decided he wanted to share it with the world.

When you’re driving through southern Idaho on Highway 75, you’ll see the sign for “Idaho’s Mammoth Cave” in big colorful letters, seven miles north of Shoshone. If you take the time to drive the dusty mile off the highway, you’ll discover what a diamond in the rough awaits you and the rich history it holds.

I grew up in the desert that claims the Mammoth Cave. It is a place where ancient lava flows scar the land, and harsh winter winds and snow provide nourishment for exploding wildflowers and lush sagebrush.
Continue reading

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At the Museum

Posted on by Dianna Miller / Leave a comment

We arrived at The College of Idaho in Caldwell on a chilly Saturday morning. Our mission: the Natural History Museum.

Our leader Teresa Hafen and I, her assistant, ushered our group of ten year-old Cub Scouts down concrete stairs to a metal door leading into the basement. As we entered a huge warehouse of archived items, excitement rose in the voices of the boys—especially Tyler, who is always a tad more enthusiastic then the others. They all proceeded to get louder and louder until we explained the rules, which included not touching anything and being respectful, particularly to our guides, who were volunteers. We met Nathan Carpenter, who immediately engaged the boys in a display of blowfish. He invited us to look around, and we looked, but I kept one eye on Tyler. Continue reading

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Take the Pend Orielle Plunge

Posted on by Dianna Doisi-Winget / Leave a comment

August 10th, 2003, dawned clear and beautiful, promising to be yet another of the many memorable days of that summer when the mercury inched into the nineties or beyond. From my supreme vantage point atop Sandpoint’s picturesque Long Bridge, I could feel the restless excitement of the swimmers on the beach below as we all awaited the beginning of the ninth annual Long Bridge Swim. Soon came the deep bellow of the air horn and over three hundred eager bodies surged into the chilly, but pristine, waters of Lake Pend Oreille. Not just another race, the event has become the Northwest’s premier open water swimming event, attracting participants from all over the western United States.

What makes this 1.7 mile swim so special? Several things. First and foremost is the attraction of Sandpoint itself. Long famous for its lakes, mountains and rivers, this little town of seven thousand also has established itself in the fields of music, art, and culture. But what really makes the Long Bridge Swim unique is the Long Bridge itself—actually two bridges side by side, one for traffic and one a pedestrian/bike path—which offers unsurpassed spectator viewing. After all, how many open water swimming events are there where you can stroll along with the swimmers every step of the way? And what a stroll it is.

Bridges have been a part of Sandpoint’s history for over 120 years, since the Northern Pacific Railroad built the first railroad bridge in 1882, connecting the area to the East and establishing Sandpoint as a bustling mining and timber town. And while mining and timber no longer claim as big a piece of the economic pie, there are still plenty of bridges. In fact, no matter from which direction you approach Sandpoint, you have to cross a bridge.

Anyone who enters Sandpoint from the south on Highway 95 will cross Lake Pend Oreille on the Long Bridge. The view alone has convinced many individuals to make this beautiful North Idaho community their home. And no wonder, with the lake’s clean waters beneath you and the jagged Cabinet Mountains rising against the sky to the east, it’s a view not quickly forgotten. To the north and west, rising sharply behind the town, is the Selkirk Mountain range with backcountry wilderness stretching some sixty miles to the Canadian border. Continue reading

The River in Stone

Posted on by C.W. Reed / Leave a comment

Last fall I was inspired to check out the petroglyph called Map Rock, which is a fairly famous landmark to folks around Melba in Canyon County just south of Nampa, where I was born.

But I was raised in Boise and, to be honest, I hadn’t heard about the rock until my girlfriend Jen suggested we go for a drive. The directions she had taken from a website were vague, and when she had tried to visit the place a couple months earlier, she couldn’t find it.

Her directions described Map Rock Road as a dirt turnoff from Highway 45, which winds along the north side of the Snake River, but we discovered the road is now paved. A couple of miles along it, we found a rest area with a modern pit toilet, for which we were thankful. Although the area sign had said “Map Rock,” we were unable to find any hint of petroglyphs at first. After a bit of hiking along footpaths near the rest area and some confusion as to exactly where we were supposed to be looking, we both became a bit worried that this trip would also end in failure. I pretended to maintain my confidence, because Jen looked like she was losing faith, but it already was apparent that just to find the location was an adventure. We hopped back into the car and drove along the road, looking for any clue that might present itself, or even anything that looked somehow out of place. But it was difficult in the sameness of the rural landscape. Finally, we spotted a site just off the highway, surprisingly less than a half-mile west of the rest area. Maybe this search should have provided fun in its own right, but as I recall it left us a bit testy! Continue reading

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Idaho William

Posted on by Jessica Butterfield / Leave a comment

When I planted roots in Idaho in September 2003, I didn’t know it, but I was pregnant, and Idaho was soon to become the beautiful and adventurous place where I would raise my son. In July 2009, when William was five years old, our small family took a camping trip to the same place we had camped the previous July. It was now our favorite spot, off Highway 21 near Lowman, along the Payette River, where I fell in love with Idaho and country music. Alan Jackson’s “Country Boy” could be heard on every country station and I grinned ear to ear every time I heard it, because I could look back at William in his car seat singing, “Up city streets, down country roads, I can get you where you need to go, ‘cause I’m a country boy.” We still sing that song.

We spent our time during the camping trip making sand castles along the river, writing our names with pine cones, hiking the easy path near camp, and reading books. We tied up the raft to float on the shallow, calm nook of water nearby, and if we stayed still enough while we lay in the raft, butterflies would land on our hot, sticky skin. William loved that.

We took car trips from our campsite to let him see the majestic Sawtooth Mountains and to swim in the ice-cold water of Redfish Lake. We stopped in Grandjean for huckleberry ice cream cones, showed William the hot spring in the river, and told him the story from a previous visit to the area of how we saw a bear run down the mountain to drink, and how scared I got seeing a bear in the wild for the first time. That night as we ate hot dogs, we watched an eagle fish in the river and bring food to its nest in the tree above. It was a hot, windy camping trip that encouraged a lot of exploring, sprouted many ideas, and almost took my son’s life. Continue reading

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A Snow Sun

Posted on by Sean Sheehan / Leave a comment

When Sun Valley celebrated its fiftieth anniversary in 1986, the resort hired my dad to build a snow sculpture of its logo.

The sculpture was such a big hit that he has built one in front of the Sun Valley Lodge every year since then.

My dad, Mark Sheehan, is an architectural metal sculptor. I started hanging out with him as he built the sun in 2002, when I was two years old, playing in the snow and helping to hold the hose. By the time I was eight, I started being really helpful by removing blocks of snow that were cut away from the sculpture by pushing them into the pond, which is still my favorite part of the process. I also mix slush and pack snow onto the face to add detail. Every year, I look forward to making a snow sculpture with him. Continue reading

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