Paris Ice Caves

I always wonder why people settle a new area completely unlike the one they came from and then name it the same name. Take Paris, Idaho, for instance.  I don't know if the original settlers were from France, though judging by their names (I googled it) I doubt it.  Paris is lovely--it is a lot of attractive things--but it in no way resembles Paris, France.  But then maybe that's not why they named it Paris.

Anyway, during our stay in Bear Lake, we took the girls up to the Paris Ice Caves.  But of course we didn't pay attention to the fact that it's name actually hinted at what it would be like. . . very cold.  So our hour long, creeping, snail's pace up the mountain roads brought us, ill-equipped, to the lovely--and very cold--ice caves.  We trekked around in there anyway, as far as our tank top clad, flip flop wearing selves could handle in the slippery, rocky, icy interior of the caves.

It was fun, nonetheless, and the girls enjoyed playing in the meadow around the caves picking wild flowers.  So the trip was not a bust, though the trip there and back far outlasted the time spent there.  And really, the drive was entertaining all by itself. The scenery was lovely and the wildlife--or not so wild life--made us stop and stare. . . though mostly because it waltzed into the road and then stopped to stare at us like WE were the show.  I actually had to get out of the car and shoo one off the road on the way down, which put the girls in a slight panic--we had the two oldest in our car and they tend to stress more than the little ones!

I still rate it a success!  Everyone came away with happy, tired smiles and fists full of wildflowers.