Day 32: Bellevue, ID to Craters of the Moon National Monument
After a very comfortable evening in Bellevue, we got packed up and got on the road to the Craters of the Moon National Monument. Neither of us had ever heard of it, but after seeing such an intriguing name on the map, we decided to check it out. After all, we hadn't come across too many campsites next to giant lava flows and cinder cones.
The drive was pretty quick and uneventful, and then became rapidly more interesting as we drew closer to the Craters of the Moon. You instantly notice something is different as the landscape shifts from crops to expanses of crushed black rock, dotted with sagebrush and cinder gardens. The whole park/preserve centers on the Great Rift, from which lava erupted multiple times between 15,000 and 2000 years ago, creating a vast ocean of lava flows scattered with cinder cones. The road through the park is a loop, with stops at the major cones and overlooks, ending with a series of four caves.
The short drive and early arrival meant we had half a shot at actually getting a campsite—all of which were first come, first served and apparently in fairly high demand. Finding one seemed fairly hopeless when we first arrived, but we decided to try our luck and... found a spot!
We set up our tent (grateful for the little bit of shade a nearby tree provided), met our very nice neighbor, and got back in the car to go see some caves. The 1.6-mile trail to the caves is a wonder in and of itself, a narrow black path that rises, falls, and turns through massive lava fields. It's so otherworldly it begins to feel almost manufactured, but then you walk by a massive crater that appears to have just cracked open and it all feels very real once again.
There are four caves to explore, each formed by lava tubes. The sign at the trailhead explained it best: "Below ground there is a dynamic underground world where fiery rivers in hardened, self-insulating tubes once flowed for miles without losing heat." Now, the caves remain as record of the rivers of lava, the rock inside carved and dripping and a little hard to fathom.
We somehow managed to begin with the most difficult cave, Boy Scout Cave, which could elicit some form of claustrophobia in just about anybody. Essentially it is one long tube with a collapse in the middle that forms two small entrances going in either direction. Of the four caves, this is the one you definitely need a flashlight for. We scooted our way down into the opening (really a four-foot crawl space) which then led into a very dark, very small chamber, where everyone must spend a moment thinking, "Did I go the wrong way?" There didn't seem to be a way to move forward, and then we realized the cave goes down to about a one-foot opening. We managed to crawl through that part as well, dragging the pack by foot, until the cave opened up large enough to sit down with a little head room. And then, we sat, just taking in the cool, dark silence and catching our breath. Thankfully, the little bit of light peaking out at the end of the tunnel was a rear entrance, so we crawled our way out and back into the blazing heat of day.
The light at the end of Boy Scout Cave
We followed that up with Beauty Cave, which was a whole lot easier to get into. There wasn't as much to explore in Beauty Cave, but the walls inside glisten and the interior has the same deep, dark, cold silence, just with a little more space. We followed that up with Indian Cave, the largest and most accessible of the caves. It’s about 30 feet tall inside, stretching out for some 800 feet. The ceiling above you opens up into massive skylights here and there, giving you enough light to look more closely at the walls and the layers of rock around you. Near the end, there was a bit of climbing up to a skylight where you could exit the cave, popping out of a little cutout in the surface.
We finished our cave tour with Dewdrop Cave, which was small but very interesting. With plenty of room to stand up, you could look around a bit in this one. It had some of the most interesting rock formations, plus solid beams of bright light from the entrance above.
We decided to climb up to the top of Inferno Cone before heading back to camp. At first glance it reminded us a bit of our trip to the Great Sandhills in Saskatchewan, but instead of soft, flour-light sand, the hill was pure black. It was caused by a volcanic eruption flying high into the air and piling into a mound nearby (so the vent that expelled these cinders was actually somewhere near the parking lot).
The climb up was short but pretty steep, but the views from the top were worth it, allowing you to see the Great Rift and the other cinder cones pretty clearly. We spent a little sitting under what appeared to be the only living tree, marveling at the other trees that now stood dead, twisted, and wind-whipped to a smooth finish. They’re unbearably beautiful and creepy.
We made our way down the cone and made a quick trip to Arco, the closest town to Craters of the Moon, for some fresh ice. Arco is small and unassuming, beyond the neon sign proclaiming Arco as the first city to be lit by atomic energy.
We headed back to camp, where we found our little enclave of two campsites had grown to include two more. As night fell, everyone drew together around our new friend’s picnic table while we cooked some dinner. It’s really nice when things fall into place like they did, when people from all over settle in around a campsite over eight different conversations and a few beers. The night grew even darker, and then the string lights and candles came out, plus more snacks and a new arrival. As things wound down, we crawled into our tent at last and called it a night.