On our way to Salt Lake City we saw a sign for Shoshone Falls on the Snake River; we were about ready for a break anyways, so we got off the highway and took the short detour.

All we knew about the Snake River came from the role it played in the old-skool Oregon Trail game that every kid our age played in the 4th grade.  That impressive educational source taught us that while fording the Snake River is necessary, it’s also one of the more dangerous parts of the journey West.  One is likely to lose at least a few oxen and some bullets, if not a relative or two (and if the river doesn’t getcha, dysentery certainly will!).  The crossing was such a harrowing experience that I’d usually go out and shoot a couple thousand pounds of meat to feel better… of which I’d only be able to carry home about thirty.  No wonder there aren’t any bison left!

Anyway, certain we’d find at least some broken wagon axles, we stopped at a vista point overlooking the river as it winds around a golf course perched on the edge of the canyon.

We continued on to Shoshone Falls, which have been cleverly dubbed “The Niagara of the West.”  Though the falls are apparently quite impressive in the spring, this late in the summer they’re but a wee trickle in comparison.  Getting to the falls was a harrowing experience as we wound Mayhem through a tiny, windy canyon road with plenty of blind spots, but once we arrived we found a beautiful and spacious park where we could let the adrenaline wear off in relative safety.

We took lots of photos and read the informational boards provided by the park, then ate a peach and headed on our way!