Shortly after leaving the airport, I discovered that Boise, ID is the inexplicable home of several Hawaiian restaurants. There is probably some interesting tidbit of history about their origin, but I haven’t bothered to look it up. I also haven’t confirmed that there are, in fact, “several” of them. I’m just taking the Shaka Shack cashier’s word for it. He looked trustworthy, if not at all Hawaiian.
Belly full of pineapple coleslaw and wienerschnitzel-jerk chicken, I piloted the rental Kia Sorento (a well equipped if comically underpowered vehicle) toward the first stop on a week-long road trip – a reserve for birds of prey just outside Boise. It was a short visit.
An actuary, a programmer, and an infrastructure architect walk into a nature reserve. Docent says “We’ve got a ton of birds here.”
Actuary says, “Really?”
Docent says “Yep.”
Bartender says “Don’t listen to her; she’s a liar. Don’t listen to me either. I don’t even belong in this joke.”
They had six birds on display, one of which was a plush owl.
The bar set appropriately low for the trip, we made our grocery run at the origin of most wilderness adventures – Walmart.
- Breakfast sausage patties (48 count)
- Jalapeno-cheddar sausages (6 count)
- Bourbon-cheddar sausages (5 count)
- Hot Link-flavoured sausages (6 count)
- Beef bratwursts (6 count)
- Eggs (1 dozen)
- Fig Newtons (1 package)
- Fruit & Nut Trail Mix (1 lb)
- Crystal Light (18 count / various flavours)
- Apples (2 lbs)
- Bananas (3 lbs)
- Styrofoam ice chest
- Small skillet
- BBQ tongs
- Propane (1 lb)
- Lighters (5 count)
- Ice (10 lbs)
- Pez (100 count)
Coincidentally, this was the same set of supplies purchased by settlers traveling the Oregon Trail in the mid-to-late 1800s – plus 50 bullets, 2 spare wagon wheels, and a spare axle.
We then followed our GPS to a mislabeled park set amongst corn fields. The park contained a gorge created by a massive shield volcano. It did not, however, contain any signage pointing us to the park we had intended to visit.
While looking for the missing park, Terry, one of my fellow travelers, demanded that we stop so he could run into a corn field. We pulled over and he disappeared into the green stalks. Minutes later he returned, proud owner of a single, industrial quality ear of corn.
We gave up on finding the park and proceeded to our next destination.
Balanced Rock Park in southern Idaho contains exactly two noteworthy objects – a balanced rock covered in graffiti and a campsite, through which a muskrat-filled creek runs. I drifted to sleep listening to large rodents playing in the water and drunk, middle-aged Idahoans daring each other to jump in and join them.