Flaming Geyser State Park

by James Hicks

(click to enlarge)

Eugene Lawson was a miner. And in 1911 he dug a hole, because that's what miners do. Everything was cool for awhile—just a typical day of hole-digging—until he reached a depth of about 900 feet. Suddenly, the air was filled with a funk that would gag a maggot.

"Damn, dude," he said to the guy next to him, "What did you have for lunch?"

Awright... it didn't go down that way. Lawson wasn't digging, he was drilling. And I don't even know if he was a miner, but I know he was looking for coal. But this is an entertainment column and not hard news, so don't bore me with the facts. What I do know is that in 1911, Eugene Lawson made a hole and it was stinky.

Methane is a natural gas, be it in the depths of the earth or in your digestive tract. And it can be useful. Like all men, Eugene Lawson knew the value of a good burst of methane. So the hole was capped and the gas was used to power mining equipment for awhile.

In 1922, after the local coal mining industry had pretty much gone south, Lawson returned to the area and found that the hole was still spewing methane. So he did what any red-blooded American male would do—he lit it off.

For years, the hole produced a flame from three to fifteen feet high. It became something of a local attraction, along with outstanding fishing to be had from the nearby Green River. The area became a private resort for those who enjoyed fishing and didn't mind the occasional whiff of methane.

The resort fell on hard times in the 1960s, and private developers hit on the "brilliant" idea of building homes on the site (without quotations if they also happened to own a septic service to respond to the inevitable calls from prospective homeowners), but the state of Washington purchased it, giving the place the awe-inspiring moniker of Flaming Geyser State Park.

I went to the park with glorious visions of blazing hellfire. Following the signs pointing the way to this majestic triumph of nature, I was giddy as a schoolgirl (don't ever call me that. Ever). At the end of the road I set off on foot, following a well-worn path leading to this crowning achievement of Mother Earth... and then I almost tripped over it.

The "geyser" is in shallow hole in the middle of the path, its flame reaching a height of, oh... I'd say five inches max. Was Mother Nature having an off-day? No, sadly not. As I read the literature tacked onto the bulletin board nearby, I learned that time and man has taken its toll on the geyser. She ain't what she used to be.

I followed the trail leading to a second test hole called Bubbling Geyser (think "bathtub" here) that issues salt water and methane. Gazing upon that wondrous feat of nature, all I can say is... I've done better.

Still and all, Flaming Geyser State Park is a worthwhile place to visit. It has a fantastic playground and picnic area (the occasional waft of methane makes it a place where you can eat a whole mess of refries without the usual social ramifications), it has trails for hiking and biking, and even an area for flying model airplanes. In the nearby river you can fish, swim, kayak, or go tubin'. I'll definitely be back this summer.

Just don't expect to see an inferno of biblical proportions.

See you on the road.

Read Page 2 for more about this triumph of nature