Jackson Hole Underground

Should he ever decide to move to a warmer climate, cowboy cop Todd Stanyon might consider south Florida. There ought to be a couple of openings on the campus security force in Gainesville.

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No well-thought-out plan for partitioning Iraq along ethnic and religious lines.

No effort to engage Iraq’s neighbors through diplomacy.

No end in sight to the U.S. occupation, and the squandering of blood and treasure.

Why?

Because “We’re kicking ass.”

“Because I know I am right.”

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Last week’s trip to Idaho brought me to Twin Falls, a farming town best known for its nearby waterfalls and a botched jump by Evel Knievel.

Photographer David Stubbs and I gazed across the Snake River Canyon nearly 33 years to the day — Sept. 8, 1974 — that Knievel attempted to fly across the gorge in a custom-made rocket cycle.

Aesthetically, Knievel made a fine choice. The canyon is beautiful, 400 feet deep, with the green Snake slithering through cliffs of black volcanic basalt.

Too bad his chute opened shortly after takeoff, and the rocket did not come close to clearing the canyon.

No matter. There wasn’t a boy who grew up in the 1970s that did not idolize Knievel. I remember playing with an Evel Knievel toy figure and motorcycle that you could wind up and send across jumps.

On returning from Idaho, weary from our epic canoe journey, I spent an hour or two researching Knievel on the Web and watching clips of him on YouTube.

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It’s the consolation prize for saying goodbye to summer: the return of the NFL.

I ran into several excited fans yesterday who were merely passing the hours, waiting for today to come.

For Jets fans, there’s no time like the week before the opening kickoff to the season. This year the optimism is running particularly high, as the team added muscle with the acquisition of running back Thomas Jones (at left).

After a pair of epics in the outdoors this week, I’ve earned a day in front of the television. And what a day of sports gluttony it should be, as on top of all the NFL action, Pedro is back on the mound at Shea.

Will Jackson’s lone sports bar be up to the challenge? Last year there was a crowd of about 25 junkies, decked out in jerseys, waiting outside the door for Sidewinders to open — only five minutes before kickoff.

Time to grab a seat in front of the flat-screen.

Illness and travel have forced me to put the blog on hold for a few days.

I’ll be in southern Idaho exploring what happens to the Snake River once it leaves Wyoming. (It ain’t pretty.)

Photographer David Stubbs and I are documenting the next leg in Red Canoe’s journey to the Pacific Ocean, for a story to be published this winter in Canoe & Kayak magazine.

But if I come across Larry Craig in a bathroom stall, I’ll tap my foot and reach for the keyboard ASAP.

Be back Friday!