Here’s a switch: a natural park noteable not for its scenic beauty or majestic grandeur but its basic, well, crappiness.
Craters of the Moon National Monument, in Idaho about 140 miles east of Boise, is a huge field of crumbly, pointy black rock left over from some ancient Idahoan volcano. But it doesn’t look much like the moon, and you certainly can’t bounce around astronaut-style with the greatest of ease. It’s more like standing in a giant barbecue full of charcoal briquettes the day after the cookout.
I was eating some Doritos as we made our lunar landing, and it came into my head that the craters and the crackers were ver well matched: that is, if these rock fields were a food, they’d be Cool Ranch Doritos–and conversely, if Cool Ranch Doritos were a national monument, they’d be the Craters of the Moon. I wasn’t trying to be especially profound: I just meant that the landscape looked and felt like a big plate of blackened Doritos, and that the Doritos, like the landscape, were hard and crunchy and would be difficult to walk over. [2006 edit: No, I was not high.] Pete and Derek gave me weird looks and made me sit in the back seet for the rest of the day.