Geek Gestalt

A calm, mild evening in Thermopolis, Wyo. On Road Trip 2009, I have seen a lot of America--nearly 5,000 miles of it--and there is one thing about it that is indisputable: It can be stunningly beautiful.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

CASPER, Wyo.--I come from California. In California there are almost 37 million people. We have several cities with more people than some states. So when it comes to things like getting vanity license plates, you've got a lot of competition if you want something good.

But over the last few years, I've been to a lot of states with far smaller populations. Idaho, for example, has 1.5 million people. Nevada, where I've spent more time than any other state besides California, has just 2.6 million. And Wyoming, where I am right now, has just about 533,000 folks.

That's why, last night, when I saw the Wyoming plate "DDS," I laughed. In California, to see the car that has that plate would be utterly improbable. Here, it's completely expected. And I've noticed it before. I can't remember what the plates were, but I remember awhile back, when I was in Boise, Idaho, seeing two plates in a parking lot that were very good. Something on the order of a URL like chris.com.

I was able to walk right into this minor league baseball game in Casper, Wyo., for free, and sit down in a seat right behind home plate.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

And last night, seeing that "DDS" plate, it just made me think: life is sometimes very simple. I saw it in the parking lot of a rookie league (think: low, low minor leagues) baseball game I had stumbled on by accident, across the street from my hotel, while out for a walk. It was the middle of the game, so they had clearly stopped checking tickets, and I just wandered in and sat down right behind home plate. That seat would have cost $50 or more at home.

I've been on Road Trip 2009 for a month now, and I've been deeply focused on complex things: military installations, national parks, rocket motors, fire technology, and the like. This ballgame was just simple. After it was over, they let folks onto the field to look at the sky through a big telescope, in honor of the rather huge event of Monday, the 40th anniversary of the moon landing.

In Butte, Mont., a dad and daughter drive in Uptown.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

A few days ago, I was in Butte, Mont., working on a story about that longtime mining town's deep environmental crises. It was sobering stuff. But then I was walking down the street and this old jeep pulled up to a red light. It was an old, retro Army jeep, with a white star on the side, which I assumed meant it had once been a general's car, or at least was painted that way. And behind the wheel was some normal-looking dad, and his passenger was his mellow-looking kid. It was a sweet scene.

Too late, I asked if I could take their picture, and while they said yes, I couldn't get the whole car in the frame. Yet, I think the shot turned out great. Whimsical. Fun. And simple.

It's not that there's no simplicity in big cities, or that there's no complexity in small towns. It's more that there's just a higher degree of probability of experiencing the simple in quieter places. That's probably even over-thinking it. Things are just slower and there's maybe just that little bit of time longer to appreciate the elegance of the uncomplicated.

Like a great sunset, for example. I saw one on the road in Wyoming the other day, out in the country. A big sky. Some amazing clouds. And the sun shining through. Gorgeous.

Sunset along U.S. route 20, in central Wyoming.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

For the next week, Geek Gestalt will be on Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'll be writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation, and more in Wyoming and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

For decades, the city of Butte, Mont., was wealthier than anywhere on the planet. But the incredible mining operations that brought so much wealth eventually poisoned the town, putting it on the brink of being uninhabitable. Now, Butte is slowly recovering, but a big price was paid. CNET Road Trip 2009 visited to see where things stand.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

BUTTE, Mont.--When you visit a town whose current (though not historical) claim to fame is hosting one of America's biggest Superfund sites, it's hard to know what you're going to experience when you get there.

But when I was planning Road Trip 2009 and discovered that this Continental Divide city had once been known as the "richest hill on Earth" due to monumental mining wealth, but was now a city trying desperately to recover from the poisons the mining left behind, I knew I had to check it out.

Instantly, upon reaching the historic district on the hill, where most of the mining--largely copper, but also gold, silver, and other metals--was done, you can tell this is a town with a past. And only a past. Everywhere you look are wide, empty streets and run-down houses and buildings, many clearly the former prides and joys of the wealthy, that now speak to the end of copper's reign as a kingmaker.

Photos: Mining's domination of the 'richest hill on earth'

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Yet it's not the scruffy character of the town that is its real problem. The true elephant in the room is the contamination legacy of decade after decade of mining. This is a town that produced at least $48 billion worth of metals, and that for a time was the richest city on the planet. But dig thousands of miles of mines, abandon them in favor of gigantic open pits, and then combine that with allowing groundwater to seep up through the mine tunnels and the giant pit, and you have an environmental catastrophe.

The centerpiece of it all is the Berkeley Pit, the unbelievably large eyesore that dominates the hill on the north end of town. More than 7,000 feet long, 5,600 feet wide, and 1,800 feet deep, the Berkeley Pit opened for business in 1955, and eventually produced 320 million tons of ore and more than 700 million tons of waste rock.

Its water level is currently at 5,280 feet--exactly a mile high--and 2.9 million gallons of water with a pH of 2.5 to 3.0 is flowing in each day.

Mining ceased there in 1982, but over the years, the rising water in the pit has still been pumped out to extract copper from it. Today, 13.2 million gallons of its water is pumped out for copper extraction.

"It can be said that mining continues today in the Berkeley Pit," writes a local information publication called Pit Watch, "as Montana Resources' (the mine's former owner) copper recovery project is recovering the dissolved copper that exists in the water contained within the walls of the Pit."

Though underground mining in Butte ended decades ago, the huge headframes (or main above-ground structures) of many old mines still dominate the landscape throughout Uptown, as it's known.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

These days, one of the most pressing problems is that the water rising inside the pit is approaching a water level of 5,410 feet, or what is known as the "critical water level," the point at which the poisons in the water can seep through the walls of the pit and into Butte's aquifer. There seems to be general agreement among the mine's owners and city, state, and federal officials that this is years away from happening, but that doesn't mean some city residents don't already assume their water supply is contaminated.

Indeed, though, it was the imminent threat of the poisoning of the aquifer that led to Butte's biggest crisis. If the water supply was contaminated directly, it could have meant the end of the city. Having seemingly escaped that fate, today the city's water comes from a source on the other side of town. But again, not everyone is convinced what they're drinking is safe.

Defining the problem
Here's how the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency sums up the problems left behind by Butte's copper, silver, gold, and zinc mining operations:

"The long period of mining in Butte left the landscape littered with un-vegetated or sparsely vegetated mine wastes, often containing hazardous concentrations of metals and arsenic," the EPA writes on the Superfund page dedicated to Butte. "These wastes represent significant sources of environmental contamination to Silver Bow Creek and posed human health and risks to the environment.

"Ground water, surface water, and soils are contaminated with arsenic and other heavy metals, including copper, zinc, cadmium, and lead. Silver Bow Creek and the Clark Fork River contain metals from the cities of Butte to Milltown. The tailings, dispersed along the creek and river, severely limit aquatic life forms and have caused fish kills in the river. Potential health threats include direct contact with and ingestion of contaminated soil, surface water, ground water, or inhaling contaminated air."

No small problem, that, especially since the cleanup isn't finished, nor does it look to be any time soon. Even trying to sum up the various initiatives that are part of the Superfund operation isn't practical in an article of this size. Suffice it to say there is almost no end to the arms of the cleanup efforts.

The Horseshoe Bend Water Treatment Plant, which is treating and recycling much of the water that would otherwise be filling up the Berkeley Pit.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

Yet, even while Butte, or at least its historic district, staggers like a drunk trying to get home after a night out, mining is still going strong. The Berkeley Pit may now be essentially a museum piece, but in plain sight of the viewing stand where the public can come to see the visceral downsides to mining, the Continental Pit is very much up and running. There, another giant pit is turning out large amounts of copper.

Of course, in a town like Butte, where mining was pretty much the only game in town, it's not hard to find reminders that whatever its dangers, the world owes a lot to mining. It's something the mining companies would have wanted the world to think about back in copper's heyday here, and the same is surely true today of Montana Resources, the operator of the Continental Pit.

A sign in the World Museum of Mining, located on the edges of Butte, maybe best sums up the message.

"Most people pass their days with no thought of the role mining plays in their lives," reads the sign, titled, "What mining means to Americans" and authored by the American Mining Congress. "They know where to buy the things they want but seldom consider the origins. Food comes from a grocery, electricity from a wall socket, tools from a hardware store, cars from a dealer...and so on. If we do think of how these things are created, many of us probably begin with farms, factories, and power stations.

"In fact, they all begin with mining.

"Without minerals, we could not till our soil, build our machines, supply our energy, transport our goods, or maintain any society beyond the most primitive. Our horn of plenty starts with a hole in the ground.

"We are in trouble if we forget that!"

Reading that sign, one can't help but acknowledge the points it makes. A similar sentiment is expressed in an informational audio recording that plays on loop at the Berkeley Pit and describes how the opening of the pit meant the evisceration of several Butte neighborhoods. "If (the mine) did not produce, it would cost every miner's family their livelihood," the recording states.

Water treatment
One of the most welcome additions to the Berkeley Pit is the Horseshoe Bend Water Treatment Plant, which was built alongside the pit and went online in 2003. The idea is that water is treated and recycled--much into Continental Pit mining operations--but that it does not simply just continue to fill up the pit. The various entities involved in the pit--the city, residents, mining companies, and other governmental agencies--seem pleased with the results of the plant.

Still, with more than 40 billion gallons of highly poisonous water sitting in the Berkeley Pit, and more coming up into it every day through the thousands of miles of mining tunnels underneath, one has to ask if the children of Butte, and their children, have gotten a very raw end of the deal.

For the next two weeks, Geek Gestalt will be on Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'll be writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation and more in Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

This is where the odometer on the Audi Q7 TDI clean diesel SUV hit 4,000 miles. I was driving alongside Saint Mary Lake, in Montana's incredible Glacier National Park.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK, Mont.--I'm kind of awestruck. For four years I've been doing CNET Road Trip projects, and every time I've hit a new thousand-mile milestone, I've stopped, photographed the odometer and the surroundings, and then blogged about the spot.

In almost every case, that new set of zeroes on the odometer has come at some nondescript location. There have been a couple cases where it happened near something incredible, but I'll be honest: I've cheated a little bit and, say, driven back and forth across a parking lot to have the milestone happen when I was parked in front of a world-class view of the Grand Coulee Dam on Road Trip 2006.

The odometer rolls over to 0.0 miles, which in this case means the trip is now 4,000 miles old.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

But two times in a row now, at 3,000 miles on Road Trip 2009 and now, at 4,000 miles, I've hit the new thousand-mile mark legitimately in front of something outstanding.

A thousand miles ago it was Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve. And now, the magic moment happened as I was tooling down the east side of Glacier National Park's famous Going-to-the-Sun Road alongside the incredible Saint Mary Lake. To be sure, I had to stop in the middle of the road--safely, of course--to take a couple of pictures. But it was truly the spot.

It's been a great six days since I hit 3,000 miles--and like at 2,000 miles, the odometer on the Q7 for some reason reset again to 0.0 miles instead of marking 2000.0.

What did I do in that time?

I went to Boise, Idaho, where I got a demonstration of some really cool digital projection technology from Micron that could some day be embedded in smartphones, and where I visited the World Center of Birds of Prey (a story on that will come later).

I also resolved five years of disappointment at not making it to a large grouping of hot springs in Idaho by going to some of them. I had a long, interesting visit to the U.S. Forest Service's Missoula, Mont.-based Smokejumpers center and the associated FireLab research center. And finally, I took a wonderful drive through a mysterious, foggy Glacier National Park.

And now it's on to 5,000 miles. As I've said many times before, I wonder where I'll be.

For the next two weeks, Geek Gestalt will be on Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'll be writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation and more in Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

Rapid climate change is resulting in the disappearance of the glaciers at Glacier National Park, in Montana. Scientists estimate the last glacier in the park could be gone by 2030. There were at least 150 of them identified in 1850.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

Note: All information in this story, unless otherwise noted, is from the National Park Service's pamphlets on and in-park signs about climate change and Glacier National Park.

GLACIER NATIONAL PARK, Mont.--The small graphics on a single sign, deep inside this incredible natural treasure says just about all you need to know about the drastic effects of rapid and intense climate change on the park and what's inside it.

"With warmer temperatures and changes to the water cycle, Glacier National Park will be glacier-free by 2030," the sign reads. "These changes will also have consequences for park vegetation, which will migrate up the mountains with temperature and moisture gradients."

I had come, on Road Trip 2009, to this incredible national park in northern Montana, just below the Canadian border, to see its beauty and grandeur. But I quickly realized what the real story is: in a place like this, the effects of climate change can be seen, right before every visitor's eyes.

"In the last 100 years, global average temperature has increased by 1.5 degrees Farenheit, with accelerated warming over the last two to three decades," a National Park Service brochure on climate change at Glacier National Park begins. "Scientists project that by 2100, the Earth's surface could warm by as much as 10 degrees. While this may not seem like much, it could bring major changes to our water cycle and to many...species that are adapted to the current climate. High latitude and high altitude environments, such as those found in Glacier National Park, are especially vulnerable."

Photos: Mystery, grandeur and beauty at Glacier National Park

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In the mid-1800s, the park was known to feature about 150 glaciers. As the 1960s wound down, warming trends had already reduced that number to around 50. And today, on the heels of the six hottest years in recorded history, there are just 26 glaciers still standing in the park, and the same pattern is being seen globally.

"While Earth's climate has undergone cooling and warming cycles in the past, the rate and magnitude of the change we are witnessing today has not occurred since human civilization began," the brochure reads. "If the current rate of warming persists, scientists predict the glaciers in Glacier National Park will be completely gone by 2030."

"Water towers of the world"

The rapid retreat of the glaciers may seem like bad news for visitors hoping to see the giant ice rivers at Glacier National Park. But there's more to glaciers than just beauty. They also play a crucial role in the ecosystem, and their disappearance may have widespread consequences.

"More than 50 percent of the world's fresh water supply comes from runoff in mountain environments," the so-called "Water Towers of the World," the brochure reads. "Alpine glaciers are an important contributor to mountain streamflow. Globally, glacial meltwater provides one-fourth of the water in mountain streams."

This National Park Service graphic explains the drastic effects of climate change on Glacier National Park.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

Thus, glaciers are obviously a major player in the healthy maintenance of aquatic and riparian ecosystems. "They also provide fresh drinking water for downstream populations and dilute pollutants that are generated mostly in lowland areas," the brochure explains. "As climate warms and glaciers melt, mountain systems, and the downstream communities they serve, are losing an important source of fresh water."

Global warming also means changes in the timing of regular weather patterns. Because temperatures are warmer, that means there's less snow, and more rain. And that means earlier snowmelt and earlier spring runoff. The National Park Service estimates that spring runoff in the Pacific Northwest now occurs two weeks earlier than in the past, and that, over time, will likely mean an increase in flooding. It also means less water later in the year, and the eventual drying out of many rivers, something that would have far-reaching effects on the ecosystem.

Wildlife in trouble

Inside Glacier National Park, there are all kinds of wild animals: grizzly bears, mountain goats, big-horned sheep, white-tailed deer and many more, not to mention the abundant plant species.

But with changes in the aquatic ecosystem, all that wildlife and plant life is in danger. Those species dependent on the ecosystem will have to adapt to changes in the climate and the ecosystem, or they will face peril. "Of major concern is the potential loss of alpine and subalpine environments that provide prime habitat for plants such as Jones' columbine and White Mountain avens, animals like big-horn sheep and mountain goats, and winter hibernation space for bears. Species living (in Glacier National Park) cannot migrate to higher ground."

As a result, what visitors may be able to see--animals and plants native to environments like Glacier National Park--may soon change forever. Scientists are working on management plans for how to deal with the changes, but some effects may be irreversible.

There may be controversy about whether climate change and global warming are real. But to see it in action, all one has to do is drive the Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park, and what you don't see speaks volumes: dozens of glaciers that used to dominate. Today, it is still a wondrous beauty. But the days before some of the park's treasures are gone for good may not be far off.

Over the last two weeks, Geek Gestalt has been on Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'm now writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation and more in Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

As part of Road Trip 2009, CNET News reporter Daniel Terdiman visited the U.S. Forest Service's Fire Lab in Missoula, Mont. There, he learned about the research being done by groups of dedicated scientists into the dynamics of fire, how it spreads, how predictive modeling is done, and much more. This is an experiment in which the researchers are studying the dynamics of flames, as part of a project to try to better understand how fuel--vegetation in the wild, wood in residential areas and so on--ignites.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

MISSOULA, Mont.--If you're going to decide how to fight fire, then you'd better know as much as possible about how it works.

That's the idea behind FireLab, a U.S. Forest Service program at the Rocky Mountain Research Station here, where scientists spend their days studying, among other things, the dynamics and behavior of fire, as well as ways to better predictively model how fire might spread.

And while, as scientists, the folks here don't set policy, it is their job to give those whose jobs is to set policy the best data possible. The goal: helping to protect the public against fire while also being realistic about how and when fires should be fought, and when it's best to leave them alone to do what they've been doing for Earth's entire history.

As part of my Road Trip 2009 project, I visited FireLab on Tuesday, as well as the Forest Service's Missoula Smokejumpers center (see video below) and got a chance to talk at length with several of the institution's leading scientists about its "end-to-end" mission: Doing fundamental science, developing new models of fire behavior and predictability, and determining how best to explain what's learned to policymakers and the public at large.

One idea that governs much of what goes on at FireLab, said research forester Mark Finney, is that, "You're going to have to pay me now, or pay me later." This concept revolves around the reality that fire happens, whether we want it or not, and communities must sometimes decide whether they want to deal with some inconvenience and allow fire officials to conduct controlled burns in order to manage areas of heavy vegetation, or whether they want to face the consequences of uncontrolled fires later.

Added research physical scientist Jack Cohen, fire is an inevitability, and the public must learn how to deal with that inevitability. Part of that, he explained, is that more than 50 percent of wildlands are "fire dependent," meaning that the successional patterns of such areas--often remote forests--as well as the species compositions and the structures of vegetation in those areas, need fire to be maintained properly.

Photos: Smokejumpers preparing for fire battles

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By overly suppressing fire, humans can negatively influence species change, water quality, and set ourselves up for the possibility of much worse fires later than we would have by managing it now.

"Fire used to be relatively frequent and low intensity," Finney said. But "because of fire suppression, now, the fires we get are a completely different character. They kill everything."

All of this means, Cohen and Finney, as well as Colin Hardy, the program manager for fire, fuel and smoke science at FireLab, said, that the public would be better off understanding that fire isn't necessarily a bad thing. But in order to achieve that goal, it is incumbent on scientists like those at FireLab to be able to provide policymakers and the public with new ways of understanding fire--and what happens when a fire begins.

In the end, according to Hardy, FireLab has six main areas of research focus: Physical fire processes; Fuel dynamics; Fire ecology; Smoke emissions and dispersion; Fire management policy; and Science application and delivery.

LIDAR
During my visit to FireLab, one of the first things I was shown was a technology called LIDAR. This is used, explained smoke emissions and dispersion team leader Wei Min Hao, to study smoke plumes. By deploying LIDAR--on a special truck--in a fire zone, it is possible to learn as much as possible about how smoke plumes rise and disperse.

The system works by shooting an extremely strong laser at a plume and then measuring the reflection off the plume's particles. By analyzing the data that return, Hao and his team are able to put together a 3D model of a plume's dynamics, as well as its composition, both in order to research what happens with the smoke from big fires, as well as to inform the public about what they are being hit with when a fire does happen.

At the same time, Hao also manages a project which utilizes data gathered from two NASA satellites to watch for the development, in near-real time, of new hot spots from fires in the United States. Here, then, the data can be used to identify new fires--say, in remote areas where they might not necessarily be seen from the ground--and determine how quickly they're progressing.

Such technology, then, is quickly obviating the traditional mountaintop fire watch stations. As well, the data can be combined with that from LIDAR to begin to predict how fire--and smoke plumes--will spread. And finally, the data can be provided to the public through several methods, including Google Earth KML files.

Fire experiments
Hardy then took me into FireLab's combustion chamber, where he and his team conduct various fire experiments. The chamber can be used in conjunction with an associated wind tunnel so that scientists can perform additional experiments that examine the influence of wind on fire.

In 1972, a system called the Rothermel Fire Model was developed at FireLab. Based on hundreds of experiments, the model was designed to explain the effects of varied amounts of fuel, moisture, spacing, wind speed and relative humidity on the rate of the spread of fire.

But the Rothermel model made assumptions based on the idea that heat radiation from a fire was enough to ignite new fuel, and according to Hardy, those assumptions are no longer valid.

In fact, he expects that new science being conducted at FireLab and elsewhere will at some point in the future arrive at new conclusions about how energy moves from one place to another and, likely, completely change the firespread model used around the world.

Rothermel, in other words, was the best possible science of its time, but it doesn't take into consideration the variability of conditions or changing fire behavior as it moves from the ground to a crown fire, or from a small crown fire to a rapidly developing wildfire.

Hardy said that on the science side, it may be possible to arrive at a new model within five-to-eight years, but that because the entire fire industry is based on Rothermel, it could take decades to complete the cultural transition that might arise in the labs of facilities like this.

And among the basic assumptions that must change, according to Cohen and Finney, is one that has long held that fire can spread by heat radiation alone. But during a couple of experiments I was shown in the combustion chamber (see video below), the two scientists attempted to demonstrate that they have determined this is not true.

By putting a small cluster of shredded wood directly in front of a very high temperature device, Cohen showed, plainly, that heat is not enough. But by applying that same heat to a small piece of wood, creating smoke, Finney showed he could ignite the wood by applying flame to the smoke rising off the wood.

The revelation there is that flame can ignite fuel by licking at smoke rising off that fuel. But still, it takes flame to create new flame, they argue.

Predictive modeling
The final piece of the FireLab puzzle I was shown is a set of predictive modeling systems. Known as WFDSS, or Wildland Fire Decision Support System, the technology is meant to aid firefighters, decision makers, and others with figuring out what will happen when a fire starts.

One part of WFDSS that may be of growing interest to communities is a system called RAVAR, or Rapid Assessment of Values at-Risk. This is an associated piece of technology which, Finney explained, is built around helping determine the value of property--and other things--at risk in fires.

Among the other things, he added, are species habitats, meaning that in addition to figuring out how much property value could be destroyed or saved in a fire, decision makers can also think about whether they need to protect such habitat as that of the spotted owl.

Either way, the system, which has been in trials since 2005, and which became fully operational only this year, is meant to help firefighters and others dealing with fire incidents to figure out where to put their resources.

It works by creating probability models for how fire will spread, and then, based on the probabilities, determining the value of what's at stake in that spread. And that helps with communications, too, Finney said, because if resources are deployed that save property, it is possible to then explain how much, in dollar figures, was saved.

In the end, Hardy, Finney, Cohen, Min Hao and others made it clear to me that there is nothing anyone can do to stop fire altogether. In many cases, they argue, fire is essential. But where it can be dealt with, they are creating tools to help policymakers and firefighters alike have valuable information as they battle flames--and the flames' effects--and to communicate to the public both what they should expect in a fire and what fire means to their communities.

For the next two weeks, Geek Gestalt will be on Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'll be writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation and more in Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

MISSOULA, Mont.--There were two points Sunday when I had absolutely no idea what time it was. It wasn't that I didn't have any timepieces. Rather, I had several, and they were all telling me different things.

The first time it happened, I was on my way up to the top of the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area in western Idaho at 7,400 feet above sea level, as part of Road Trip 2009. From high up there, it is possible to see four states: Idaho, Montana, Oregon, and Washington. Down below, in Riggins, Idaho, where I'd started my day, it was Mountain time, and, I was pretty sure, about 11:15 a.m. Off to the west, and to the north, it was Pacific time, or about 10:15 a.m. Yet, both iPhones I had in the car, as well as a dedicated Garmin GPS device, read 12:15 p.m. Which it would have been if I'd been in the Central time zone.

Utterly confused, but determined to believe the middle result, the Mountain time zone clock reading, I went on with my day. And indeed, before long, I saw that the iPhones--I didn't check the GPS device--had reverted to the proper time.

Driving around parts of Idaho and Montana on Sunday, CNET News reporter Daniel Terdiman found both his iPhone and a dedicated GPS receiver confused by what time it was. Why did that happen?

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET)

But hours later, not long after crossing the border into Montana and re-entering the Mountain time zone--parts of north-central Idaho are in the Pacific time zone--I glanced at the two iPhones and once again, they were reading a time that just had to be in the Central time zone.

At least I hoped so, as I really didn't want it to be that late. So, just to be sure, I checked one of those bank time displays you always pass on the road, and sure enough, I was right. It wasn't as late as the iPhones were saying it was. They were once again displaying a time that would be in the Central time zone.

So what happened? Do you have any idea why three different pieces of digital equipment--the two iPhones and my GPS device--were giving me the time from hundreds of miles to the east? I could accept it when I was on top of the world, at 7,400 feet and climbing. But later, I was down in the flats, and the devices were doing the same thing.

Any ideas? I'd love to hear them.

Geek Gestalt is on the tail end of Road Trip 2009. After driving more than 12,000 miles in the Pacific Northwest, the Southwest and the Southeast over the last three years, I'm now writing about and photographing the best in technology, science, military, nature, aviation and more in Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota and Colorado. If you have a suggestion for someplace to visit, drop me a line. And in the meantime, join the Road Trip 2009 Facebook page and follow my Twitter feed.

Hoover Dam was a big hit from Road Trip 2007. What will be the biggest surprises of Road Trip 2009?

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

In the United States, the major east-west Interstate highways are denominated by multiples of tens: I-10 goes from Los Angeles to Jacksonville, Fla. I-40 goes from Barstow, Calif., to Wilmington, N.C. I-80 goes from San Francisco to New York.

The north-south Interstates, meanwhile, are denominated with fives. I-5 goes from the U.S.-Mexico border, through San Diego, Los Angeles, Portland, Ore., and Seattle and ends at the U.S.-Canada border. I-15 goes from from San Diego to the Canadian border near Sweetgrass, Mont. And I-95 heads north from Miami all the way to northeast Maine.

Over the last three years, I've spent part of each summer doing a project called CNET Road Trip, and each time I've driven long distances through a specific region of the country. In 2006, it was the Pacific Northwest. In 2007, it was the Southwest. And in 2008, it was 4,593 miles through the Southeast.

All told, I've covered 12,853 miles and 17 states. But one of the little details about the three trips that I've enjoyed the most is that combined, I've driven at least a few miles on every one of those north-south divide-by-five interstates, except I-35. I spent a lot of time on I-5 on Road Trip 2006; I touched I-15 and I-25 on Road Trip 2007; and I actually hit I-45, I-55, I-65, I-75, I-85 and I-95 on Road Trip 2008.

On Sunday, I'll begin Road Trip 2009 in Denver. And looking back at that U.S. map, I realize that after this year's journey--which will take me through Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, and Wyoming--I'll have also driven on each of the divide-by-ten Interstates except I-30. Looking at that map, clearly there's a hole in the country I need to think about for future Road Trips.

Photos: High-tech gear complements Road Trip 2009

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Nevertheless, this time around, it's the Rocky Mountain region and a bit of the Great Plains. It'll start off with a drive--in the Audi Q7 TDI I'll be road-testing--to Mount Evans, due west of Denver, which features the highest paved road in North America. And given that the Audi has a so-called "clean diesel" engine, I'll be writing a fair bit about that technology and what it means for fuel efficiency and the environment.

There will be three major themes this year: military and defense; energy and sustainable living research; and America's natural wonders. To be sure, there will likely be plenty of little meanderings off those themes, but they will be the major backbones of the project.

That means I'll be visiting places like North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD/Cheyenne Mountain); the Air Force Academy; the Department of Energy's Idaho National Lab; a series of locations in and near national parks in Utah that were first put on a list by the Bush administration for drilling to private interests and then taken off the list by the new Obama administration; a firefighting technology center in Missoula, Mont.; a maker of commuter train engines in Boise, Idaho; an innovative wind farm in Wyoming; Air Force Space Command, also in Wyoming; Yellowstone National Park, also in Wyoming; the Badlands in South Dakota; a nonprofit working to help Boulder, Colo., transition to a peak-oil environment; and much, much more.

But even though I've worked out a more complete itinerary this year than I have in the past, I've still got plenty of wiggle room for unexpected discoveries. And I hope that you, dear readers, will get in touch with me as I go with suggestions for places to go and things to see.

Among the many high-tech gadgets Terdiman will be road-testing will be the new iPhone 3G S.

(Credit: Apple)

Along the way, I'll be blogging constantly, posting regular photo galleries and some video, Twittering like mad, organizing meet-ups through Facebook; and giving away a whole series of things, including DVD sets from Showtime, Halo: ODST game codes from Microsoft; lots of video games; and more.

As I have each of the three previous trips, I'll also be bringing a long a veritable Best Buy's worth of high-tech gadgetry to test out. Among the devices are Apple's brand-spanking-new 13-inch MacBook Pro and iPhone 3G S; Verizon's MiFi 2200 mobile hot-spot; Iridium's new 9555 satellite phone; Inmarsat's Explorer 500 mobile satellite modem; Amazon's Kindle 2; and LiveScribe's Pulse pen; and more.

Last year, I took thousands of pictures with Nikon's D60 digital SLR. This year, I'll have Nikon's new D5000 dSLR, which adds HD video capabilities. I'll also be shooting some HD video with Flip Video's UltraHD. And I hope to edit some of the photos and video with the applications in Adobe's Creative Suite 4 Master Collection, and will be printing photos on Hewlett-Packard's Officejet H470wbt, a fully mobile printer.

And when I need to chill out and watch a movie, I'll have a pair of Sony's MDR-NC22 noise-canceling headphones to listen with.

On Road Trip 2009, Terdiman will be taking thousands of pictures with the Nikon D5000, which can also take HD video.

(Credit: Nikon)

I intend, during the trip, to blog about my experiences using each and every one of the products I'll have with me.

As in previous years, Road Trip 2009 will be both a great deal of fun and a tremendous challenge. I'll be working nearly nonstop, posting stories constantly, driving several hundred miles a day on average, and even trying to get a little food and sleep. And I'll be by myself most of the time.

But I will have plenty of good music to listen to, thousands of miles of beautiful country to look at, and the chance to visit some of the most interesting destinations this country has to offer.

It is a tough job. But as they say, somebody's got to do it.

Starting today, please check out the Road Trip 2009 page frequently, follow my Twitter feed, and join my Facebook fan page. I'll do my best to bring you along with me.