  Light playing on cobalt blue lavas of the Blue Dragon Flows caught the inner eye of explorer Robert Limbert: “It is the play of light at sunset across this lava that charms the spectator. It becomes a twisted, wavy sea. In the moonlight its glazed surface has a silvery sheen. With changing conditions of light and air, it varies also, even while one stands and watches. It is a place of color and silence....” Limbert explored the Craters of the Moon lava field in Idaho in the 1920s and wrote those words for a 1924 issue of National Geographic Magazine. “For several years I had listened to stories told by fur trappers of the strange things they had seen while ranging in this region,” wrote Limbert, a sometime taxidermist, tanner, and furrier from Boise, Idaho. “Some of these accounts seemed beyond belief.” To Limbert it seemed extraordinary “That a region of such size and scenic peculiarity, in the heart of the great Northwest, could have remained practically unknown and unexplored....” On his third and most ambitious trek, in 1924, Limbert and W. C. Cole were at times left speechless by the lava landscape they explored. Limbert recounted his impressions in magazine and newspaper articles whose publication was influential in the area’s being protected under federal ownership. In 1924, part of the lava field was proclaimed as Craters of the Moon National Monument, protected under the Antiquities Act. It was created “to preserve the unusual and weird volcanic formations.” The boundary has been adjusted and the park enlarged since then. In 1970, a large part of the national monument was designated by Congress as the Craters of the Moon Wilderness. It is further protected under the National Wilderness Preservation System. Until 1986, little was known about Limbert except for those facts recounted above. That year, however, a researcher compiling a history of the national monument located Limbert’s daughter in Boise. The Local legends, beginning in the late 1800s, held that this area resembled the surface of the moon, on which—it must now be remembered—no one had then walked! Geologist Harold T. Stearns first used the name Craters of the Moon when he suggested to the National Park Service, in 1923, that a national monument be established here. Stearns found “the dark craters and the cold lava, nearly destitute of vegetation” similar to “the surface of the moon as seen through a telescope.” The name Craters of the Moon would stick after Limbert adopted it in National Geographic Magazine in 1924. Later that year the name became official when the area was set aside by President Calvin Coolidge as a national monument under the Antiquities Act. Like some other areas in the National Park System, Craters of the Moon has lived to see the name that its early explorers affixed to it proved somewhat erroneous by subsequent events or findings. When Stearns and Limbert called this lava field Craters of the Moon, probably few persons other than science fiction buffs actually thought that human beings might one day walk on the moon and see firsthand what its surface is like. People have now walked on the moon, however, and we know that its surface does not, in fact, closely resemble this part of Idaho. Although there are some volcanic features on the surface of the moon, most of its craters were formed by the impact of meteorites colliding with the moon. Moonscape or not, early fur trappers avoided the lava flows along the base of the Pioneer Mountains at the north of today’s park. In doing so, they followed Indian trails such as one found by Limbert Geologists possessed the proper motivation to tackle it, however. Curiosity aroused by this lava field has led several generations of geologists, beginning with Israel C. Russell in 1901 and Harold T. Stearns in the 1920s, into a deeper understanding of its volcanic origins. With ever increasing penetration of its geological history, the apparent otherworldliness of Craters of the Moon has retreated—but not entirely. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) brought the second set of astronauts who would walk on the moon to this alien corner of the galaxy before their moonshot. Here they studied the volcanic rock and explored an unusual, harsh, and unforgiving environment before embarking on their own otherworldly adventure. Most types of volcanic features in the park can be seen quite readily by first stopping at the visitor center and then driving the Loop Road. Far more features can be seen if you also walk the interpretive trails at the stops along the Loop Road. Still more await those who invest the time required to come to feel the mysterious timelessness and raw natural force implicit in this expansive lava field. Many travelers are en route to Yellowstone National Park and spend only a couple of hours visiting Craters of the Moon. This is ironic because here you are on the geological track of Yellowstone. In fact, Craters of the Moon represents what Yellowstone’s landscape will resemble in the future, and both areas can supplement your insight into what happens when the Earth’s unimaginable inner forces erupt to its surface. Silvery leaves of the buckwheat dot a cinder garden with such regular spacing they almost look planted. Such spacing results from the shortage of available surface water: Each plant controls with its roots the space surrounding it, discouraging competing plants. Rainwater and snowmelt penetrate volcanic cinders so readily that their moisture quickly drops beyond reach of most plants’ root systems. For a close-up view of a buckwheat, see page 36. Although Idaho is famous for forests, rivers, and scenic mountain wilderness, its Snake River Plain region boasts little of these attributes. This plain arcs across southern Idaho from the Oregon border to the Yellowstone area at the Montana-Wyoming border. It marks the trail of the passage of the Earth’s crust over an unusual geologic heat source that now brings the Earth’s incendiary inner workings so close to its surface near Yellowstone. This heat source fuels Yellowstone’s bubbling, spewing, spouting geothermal wonders. Craters of the Moon therefore stands as a geologic prelude to Yellowstone, as its precursor and the ancestral stuff of its fiery secrets. When did all this volcanism at Craters of the Moon happen? Will it happen again? According to Mel Kuntz and other U.S. Geological Survey geologists who have conducted extensive field research at Craters of the Moon, the volcanic activity forming the Craters of the Moon lava field probably started only 15,000 years ago. The last eruption in the volcanic cycle ended 2,000 years ago, about the time that Julius Caesar ruled the Roman Empire. Craters of the Moon is a dormant, but not extinct, volcanic area. Its sleeping volcanoes could become active again in the near future. The largest earthquake of the last quarter century in the contiguous United States shook Idaho’s tallest mountain, Borah Peak, just north of here in 1983. When it did, some geologists wondered if it might initiate volcanic activity at Craters of the Moon. It did not. According to Kuntz, however, this is no reason not to expect another volcanic eruption here soon—probably “within the next 1,000 years.” Part Two of this handbook explores the still young and rapidly evolving understanding of the fascinating geologic story of Craters of the Moon. Today’s Craters of the Moon National Monument encompasses 83 square miles of the much larger Craters of the Moon lava field. Reaching southeastward from the Pioneer Mountains, the park boundary encloses a series of fissure vents, volcanic cones, and lava flows known as the Great Rift volcanic zone. This volcanic rift zone is a line of weakness in the Earth’s crust that can be traced for some 60 miles across the Snake River Plain. Recent volcanism marks much of its length. You can explore the Great Rift and some of its volcanic features via the park’s 7-mile Loop Drive, as described in Part Three of this handbook. In the park’s northern part you will find Despite its seeming barrenness, Craters of the Moon is indeed home to a surprising diversity of plant and animal life. As Limbert noted in 1924: “In the West the term ‘Lava Beds of Idaho’ has always signified a region to be shunned by even the most venturesome travelers—a land supposedly barren of vegetation, destitute of water, devoid of animal life, and lacking in scenic interest. “In reality the region has slight resemblance to its imagined aspect. Its vegetation is mostly hidden in pockets, but when found consists of pines, cedars, junipers, and sagebrush: its water is hidden deep in tanks or holes at the bottom of large ‘blow-outs’ and is found only by following old Indian or mountain sheep trails or by watching the flight of birds as they drop into these places to quench their thirst. The animal life consists principally of migrant birds, rock rabbits, woodchucks, black and grizzly bears: its scenery is impressive in its grandeur.” Years of patient record-keeping by scientists have fit numbers to Limbert’s perceptive observations. The number of species identified includes more than 300 plants, 2,000 insects, 8 reptiles, 140 birds, 30 mammals—and one amphibian, the western toad. We now call Limbert’s “rock rabbit” the pika. The grizzly is long gone here. With few exceptions, the park’s denizens live mostly under conditions of great environmental stress. Near constant winds, breeze-to-gale in strength, sweep across the park to rob moisture from all living things. Scant soils, low levels of precipitation, the inability of cinder cones to hold rainwater near the surface, and the heat of the summer sun—intensified by heat-absorbing black lavas—only aggravate such moisture theft. Cinder surfaces register summer soil temperatures of over 150°F and show a lack of plant cover. Plants cover generally less than 5 percent of the total surface of the cinder cones. A recent study found that when the area is looked at on a parkwide basis, most of the land is very sparsely vegetated (less than 15 percent vegetative cover). On a scale of sand trap to putting green, this would approach the sand trap end of the scale. Winter snow transforms these landscapes, smoothing out both contours and the jagged edges of lavas. Less lunar in appearance now, the park nonetheless maintains an otherworldly aura. The park was named in 1924, 45 years before humans walked on the Moon. Although we now know more about the Moon’s actual surface, the park’s name still rings true. Only a few trees immediately suggest that the large photo was taken on Earth. In the inset photo, astronaut Edwin E. “Buzz” Aldrin walks on the Moon near the lunar module. Into this difficult environment wildlife researcher Brad Griffith ventured to count, mark, and scrutinize the mule deer of Craters of the Moon in May 1980. Griffith, of the University of Idaho, conducted a three-year study of the park’s mule deer population because the National Park Service was concerned that this protected and productive herd might multiply so much that it would eventually damage its habitat. Among other things, he would find that the herd has developed a drought evasion strategy that makes it behave unlike any mule deer population known anywhere else. “By late summer,” Griffith explains, “plants have matured and dried so that they no longer provide adequate moisture to sustain the deer in this landscape that offers them no free water. Following about 12 days of warm nights and hot days in late July, the deer migrate from 5 to 10 miles north to the Pioneer Mountains. There they find free-flowing creeks and the cool, moist shade of aspen and Douglas-fir groves and wait out summer’s worst heat and dryness. Early fall rains trigger the deer’s return to the park’s wilderness from this oasis in late September to feed on the nutritious bitterbrush until November snowfalls usher them back to their winter range.” The pristine and high-quality forage of the Craters of the Moon Wilderness Area, historically nearly untouched by domestic livestock grazing, has inspired this migratory strategy for evading drought. In effect, the mule deer make use of a dual summer range, a behavioral modification unknown elsewhere for their species. “Their late summer and fall adaptations simply complete the mule deer’s yearlong strategy for coping with the limits that this volcanic landscape imposes on them,” Griffith explains. Taking a walk in the park on a mid-summer afternoon gives you a good opportunity to experience the influence of wind, heat, and lack of moisture. The park’s winds are particularly striking. The lava that has flowed out of the Great Rift has built up Early mornings may find park rangers climbing up a cinder cone to count the deer, continuing the collection of data that Brad Griffith set in motion with his three-year study. The rangers still conduct spring and late summer censuses: over a recent three-year period the deer populations averaged about 420 animals. Another several years of collecting will give the National Park Service a body of data on the mule deer that is available nowhere else. The uniqueness of this data about the park’s mule deer population would surely please the booster aspect of Robert Limbert’s personality. Likewise, the research challenges involved in obtaining it would appeal to his explorer self. History has justified Limbert on both counts. Publicity arising from his explorations led to creation of the national monument. Furthermore, that publicity put forth a rather heady claim that history has also unequivocally borne out: “Although almost totally unknown at present,” Limbert prophesied in 1924, “this section is destined some day to attract tourists from all America....” Every year tens of thousands of travelers fulfill Robert Limbert’s prophecy of more than a half-century ago. |
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