Submitted by Mike Medberry on Wed, 10/07/2015 - 07:18
I really don’t want to see Antarctica. Imagination is more than all of the rock and ice of that southern continent. More than fire and earthquakes, more than oxygen and water, more than blood and guts and low temperatures that freeze spit as it falls, more than Byrd’s or Amundson’s worthy endeavors, more than a rock star’s bizarre desire to be the first to play there. Disallow scientists from further probing and diagnosing the problems in Antarctica. Imagine: it is the place that no one knows.
Submitted by Mike Medberry on Fri, 03/13/2015 - 19:15
Once upon a time, Idaho’s forests were green, water ran gin-clear from the mountains and the sky was not cloudy all day. In those days, there was no need for political wilderness. But in the 1940s, 1950s and early ’60s, people like Mardy Murie, Bob Marshall, Howard Zahniser, Aldo Leopold, Sigurd Olson and Wallace Stegner felt compelled to protect the last remaining wild places. Logging, mining and road building were rampant and wildlands were being diminished like “snow on a hot summer’s day,” as conservationist John Muir once said.
Submitted by Mike Medberry on Sun, 12/28/2014 - 22:06
I can’t believe I forgot my sleeping bag. I planned to hike sixteen miles from Atlanta, Idaho to see the ultimate headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Boise River at Spangle Lake in the highest, most stunning country in the Sawtooth Wilderness. That would conclude my hike from the Snake River to the top of the Boise River drainage and now the whole river would be below me. I sat on the tailgate of my pickup, drank another afternoon beer, watching this gorgeous, cool, day, aiming toward the end of summer.
Submitted by Tech Support on Wed, 10/01/2014 - 09:46
The Boise River through the city to Lucky Peak and Arrowrock reservoirs and the Ninemeyer wipeout
A rock, almost a boulder, stands beside an unnamed pond with these words inscribed upon it: “Celebrating the life of Cal Osburn.” I did a double-take and reread it. Cal Osburn was a friend of mine, a jovial man, father of John Osburn, one of the people I’ve worked with as a conservationist. Cal always struck me as happy, like Mr. Rogers on TV, a lover of nature and of people. He worked on cruise ships as an Ambassador for many years and in Boise he seemed happy with his wife.
Submitted by Mike Medberry on Fri, 07/04/2014 - 10:35
Perhaps more than ever before on this river, where the Boise meets the Snake, wildlife and farmers abound. Snowy Egrets, Great Blue Herons, Red-tailed hawks, Cinnamon Teal and American Coots, Canada Geese and Osprey, black Double-Crested Cormorants, Turkey Vultures, and a pure white Pelican are as common as house flies along the lower Boise River as I begin to hike. Deer, coyotes, and wild turkeys wander through the brush; Monarch, Mourning Cloak, and Tiger Swallowtail butterflies provide elegance to the Cottonwood forest. As I walk to the confluence, a man fishes for bass or catfish.
Submitted by Mike Medberry on Sat, 03/15/2014 - 08:44
I drove into San Francisco a few days after the Supreme Court ruled that married same–sex couples are entitled to equal rights and federal benefits that other married couples received. The following weekend was set for the San Francisco Pride Celebration, which is the biggest gathering in the United States for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people. Unbeknownst by me. It would be a wild party as people lined up by the hundreds or thousands or some ridiculous number to file for a marriage in California.
Submitted by Mike Medberry on Fri, 03/07/2014 - 15:37
The insurance agent whom I talked with at USAA said that the company wouldn’t pay for the damage that I’d incurred on the road by Riggins, so I upgraded my auto insurance and went on driving with two major dents and a slightly dangling headlight. I washed blood off the truck and cleansed my mind with a good dinner in Spokane. The reading that night proved nearly perfect and several people in the audience asked thoughtful questions. Lois at Aunties set me up like the pro she is and several of my long-lost old friends came to the reading.