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On Sunday we secured our belongings, stowing any items that might shift during travel, and left Ashton, Idaho driving south on Highway 20. After a quick 50 miles we joined I-15, the major thoroughfare that we will follow all the way through Idaho and into Utah. It was a short travel day for us since we drove just 125 miles to reach our new home for the next week, McCammon, Idaho.

Tiny McCammon is an agricultural community roughly 25 miles southeast of Pocatello. As part of the Great Basin the area receives very little precipitation so fields are irrigated with water diverted from the nearby Snake and Portneuf Rivers. The Snake River is one of two connections that the area has to Yellowstone National Park. The headwaters of the Snake River are in the center of the park. After the Snake leaves Yellowstone it follows the curve of the much older Snake River Plain south and then west through Idaho.

The hotspot that now fuels the famous geothermal features of Yellowstone is the second connection. The foundation of the Snake River Plain was formed through volcanic activity over the past 12 million years. By tracking the geologic ages of the rocks you can trace the route of the Snake River Plain-Yellowstone hotspot as the North American plate slowly floated over it. The volcanic rocks on the western edge of the Plain are older with the age of volcanic material decreasing as the Plain curves towards Yellowstone in the northeast. Past volcanic activity is much in evidence around McCammon, in between fields is a thick, lumpy layer of basalt and several nearby hot springs have been developed into popular tourist attractions.

Though we had wonderfully warm and sunny days all during our work week, by the weekend the weather had turned on us. Saturday dawned gray and drizzly but being intrepid explorers, we ventured forth anyway. After toying with the idea of checking out the hot springs to the east we drove west, lured by the promise of wagon ruts. The ruts were remnants left by travelers on the Oregon Trail, which in that section was shared by migrants on the California Trail.

The idea of a trail to Oregon Country first gained popularity after the successful return of the Lewis and Clark Expedition from the Pacific coast in 1806. In 1812 when South Pass through the Rocky Mountains was discovered by members of the Astor Expedition, Americans realized that Oregon Country could be reached by wagon. Ownership disputes between the U.S. and Britain delayed American settlers for another twenty five years or so but in 1839 the first group of emigrants set off carrying a flag that proclaimed, “OREGON OR THE GRAVE.”

In 1842 the first organized wagon train left Missouri with over 100 pioneers. For the next six years thousands of settlers set out on the arduous 2,170 mile journey spurred on by the economic depression in the east and the promise of free land in the west. After the discovery of gold in the recently acquired state of California in 1848 traffic along the trail increased rapidly. Starting at multiple points in the east the trail for emigrants headed west, to either Oregon or California, and was shared through most of Nebraska, Wyoming, and Idaho.

Not surprisingly the trail, and most of its short cuts and alternates, followed rivers on the way west. In south-central Idaho the trail followed the Portneuf and Snake Rivers. At the confluence of the Raft River, west of Fort Hall (near Pocatello), the California Trail turned south to the gold fields while the Oregon Trail continued north. The trails were not blazed through lands devoid of residents, on the contrary, hundreds, if not thousands, of Native Americans lived there. As the first wagon trains struggled through on their way west, contact with native people was minimal and predominantly peaceful. In the early years there were many accounts of natives helping with river crossings and directions. As time went on and traffic along the trails increased relations cooled and in some cases broke out in violence.

Can’t you just picture it? You are out hunting and you see a plume of dust, kicked up by a small wagon train. Curious you approach and find out that they are on their way further west. Relieved that they aren’t staying here, you point them in the right direction and head home. A year later you meet a few more wagon trains and you become concerned as the emigrants and their herds of livestock take a toll on the resources you rely upon. Still you point them on their way. Five years later the wall of dust kicked up by wagon wheels stretches as far as you can see, the once lush grassland is now barren, game animals are scarce, and the local watering holes have been sullied. I know I would be angry by then.

One of the places where wagon trains were attacked in Idaho is near Massacre Rocks State Park. The name is a bit misleading since there was not an “indiscriminate killing of a large number of human beings” at the site. In August of 1862 as the first of several wagon trains were nearing a narrow passage on the Oregon Trail known as the “Gate of Death,” they were attacked by Shoshone warriors. The skirmish was brief, five of the travelers were killed and several were injured. The next morning the emigrants organized a group of men to chase the warriors and recover their stolen property. Another fight ensued, five more of the emigrants were killed and several more were injured, thought it remains unclear how many of the Shoshone were hurt or injured during these altercations. Some of the fallen emigrants were buried near Massacre Rocks but the exact location is unknown.

Our first stop of the day was—a rest area off I-86 overlooking the Snake River. Our high vantage point on the bluff provided us with excellent views across the wide river. The rest area also included a historic site; the wagon ruts we had come to see were accessible not only from nearby Massacre Rocks State Park but from the rest area. Undaunted by the steady drizzle we followed the trail as it wound past Utah Junipers (Juniperus osteosperma) and Big Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata), under the interstate and up a small hill. Topping the hill we could see the gully created by the thousands upon thousands of wagons that traversed the trail. As we stood there inhaling the slightly sweet, fresh scent of the desert after a rain we pondered the emigrants’ long journey.

The interpretive signs mentioned that over 400,000 people traveled west along the Oregon Trail. I also read that roughly 10% of the emigrants died along the way, predominantly from disease, starvation, and drowning. It should be noted that attacks by Native Americans were not among the leading causes of death. On the way back to our car the sun broke through and we saw everything in a whole new light. The sunshine showed us that while we had been blithely tripping along the trail—admiring the abundant juniper berry crop (in truth, they are actually cones) and crushing sage leaves in our fingers to release their pungent smell—we had been inches away from thousands of spiders.

I spotted the first one when I reached out to grab a handful of sage; as my hand touched her web she scrambled aside. Lance and I marveled at her large size and striking black and yellow stripes and we were enchanted with the small raindrops that decorated her web and sparkled like diamonds. Then we stood up and looked around and we got the creeps; on every single sagebrush as far as we could see glinted a spider web. Turning slowly around and scanning the area, we realized we were completely surrounded. Neither of us had ever seen that many spiders in one place before! Ever curious I snapped a few pictures of the spiders and their silky creations so I could research them later. Turns out the Great Basin, from southern Idaho down into central Utah, is experiencing a spider population explosion this year. From the best that I can tell, our vibrantly-colored ladies were Banded Garden Spiders (Argiope trifasciata), completely harmless to humans but lethal to grasshoppers and other insects.

Heading over to the state park I-86 took us right between the tall, dark lava rocks that once forced emigrants on the Oregon Trail to travel single file. The prominent rocks are the remains of a dense lava plug from the throat of a long since eroded volcano. Though the rocks still frame the route of travel the gap between them is much wider now since the rocks were dynamited to make room for the interstate. Once inside the park, we beelined for the Visitor Center to learn more about the area. As we browsed through their hands-on interpretive displays we came across this quote from the diary of Helen Carpenter who traveled the Oregon Trail in 1857, “One does like a change and about the only change we have from bread and bacon is to bacon and bread.” Not a trip for the faint of heart or as Kit Carson supposedly said, “The cowards never started and the weak died on the way.”

The place isn’t entirely about the Oregon Trail, the rocks in the park have their own story to tell. The rocky bluffs on either side of the Snake River were formed during lava flows millions of years ago, thanks to the Snake River Plain-Yellowstone hotspot, but the odd jumbles of rocks in the park were rearranged much more recently. A little over 30,000 years ago Lake Bonneville, larger and deeper than Lake Michigan, covered much of the Great Basin. Roughly 16,800 years ago the earth near Red Rock Pass, Idaho collapsed and the lake flooded down the Snake River. The catastrophic flood scoured out the river channel, moved massive boulders, and carved out a notch in the cliff across the Snake River. We pondered the awesome power of water as we hiked among the rounded boulders, most of which were taller than Lance.

Leaving the park we drove a few miles east to the aptly named Register Rock section of the park. The highlight of the park is a large rock that was moved to its present location by the Bonneville Flood. While the rock is impressive it is what is etched upon it that makes the rock famous. The small valley were the rock resides was often used as a campsite by wagon trains traveling the Oregon Trail. During their stay many emigrants carved their names into the great rock, creating a kind of trail register.

After a last look around we headed back towards Pocatello on I-86 which took us through part of the Fort Hall Indian Reservation. Established by treaty in 1863 the reservation was shared by a band of Shoshones and a band of Bannocks. It is possible that Chief Pocatello led the Shoshone attacks on the wagon trains near Massacre Rocks in August of 1862. Pocatello and his fellow Shoshone warriors were blamed for numerous attacks along the Oregon Trail and the U.S. Army considered them a threat. It is not for violence that Chief Pocatello is best remembered though.

In the late 1870s the Shoshone chief allowed the new Utah and Northern Railway to cut across tribal land. The railroad constructed a station in the valley which they named Pocatello Junction in his honor. As the town grew the name was shortened. Today Pocatello is the fourth largest city in Idaho. Last comment about the city: it was once against the law to look sad in Pocatello. Honest. Apparently, this ordinance was passed during the harsh winter of 1948 in order to cheer up the local citizenry. No word on whether or not it worked!

Photos: View our photographs from Idaho’s Oregon Trail.

Dates: We stayed in McCammon from 09/14/08 to 09/21/08.