So, you’re strolling through downtown Spokane when a stranger walks up, says he’s from out of town and asks for directions.

“Where are you from?” you ask him with a smile.

“Flagstaff, Arizona,” he replies.

“Wow!” you exclaim, “that must be great living so close to the Grand Canyon.”

The stranger gives you a puzzled look. “The what?” he asks.

“Um … the Grand Canyon,” you repeat. “It’s just a few hours north of Flagstaff, right?”

“Oh yeah … the Grand Canyon,” replies the stranger, a glimmer of recognition passing over his face. “I’ve read about it but haven’t actually gone up to see it yet.”

Most of us would probably shake our heads in a situation like this and (presumably after giving the poor guy his directions) we would wonder how anyone could live so close to one of the world’s most spectacular geologic wonders without ever having seen it for himself.

Sadly, during the two decades I have lived in this neck of the woods, I have run across far too many residents of the Inland Northwest who are similarly in the dark about a region that many geologists consider geologically unique in the world.

I’m talking about the Channeled Scablands, which begin just south of Spokane and spread out to the south and west for more than 100 miles in either direction. More than one geologist has referred to the events that created this region as the most significant to occur anywhere in the world during the Pleistocene – a period of time going back nearly 2 million years.

And yet, despite the region’s justly famous reputation within the scientific community, a large number of people in the Inland Northwest appear to regard this landscape of spectacular canyons, perplexing potholes, breathtaking coulees and massive dry waterfalls as mere “flyover” or “drive-through” country; a landscape which must be endured in order to travel west to Seattle or south to the Tri-Cities.

True, the Channeled Scablands are not neatly packaged within one clearly defined geographic quadrant like Yosemite, Glacier Park or the Everglades. Instead, the diverse geologic features created by gargantuan Ice Age floods 12,000 to 15,000 years ago are spread over an area the size of Delaware and Vermont combined – some 3,000 square miles in all. And that’s just in Washington state. Flood-caused geologic features are found in four states – beginning in northwestern Montana and down through the Idaho Panhandle, then across Eastern Washington and through the Columbia Gorge all the way to the Oregon coast. The total area affected by the glacial flooding was upwards of 16,000 square miles.

Thankfully, not everyone is ignoring the scablands. A group of Washington legislators, led by U.S. Rep. Doc Hastings and Sen. Maria Cantwell, have introduced bills to create an Ice Age Floods National Geologic Trail, complete with visitor centers, highway signage, printed materials and maps to guide tourists from one point of interest to another.

When the legislation passes – which seems likely to happen within the next year – Inland Northwest residents will have a major attraction right in their own backyard to draw tourists and educate travelers passing through our region.

It’s ironic that once a sign is erected to alert people about something worth seeing, that “something” becomes somehow more legitimate than it was before the signs went up. But just as the Grand Canyon would be equally grand if it were not a well-publicized national park, so do our own Channeled Scablands merit exploration and appreciation now – before they have been officially anointed by the federal government and bedecked with informative signs and kiosks.

My proposal is that all people who live in the beautiful Inland Northwest should take the time now to learn about and visit the rich geological treasure trove we have right outside our back doors. Many of the most impressive scabland features can be reached by car. Others require short stints on foot. All are worth taking time to see.

After all, when crowds of visitors begin flocking to our region to gaze at some of the most remarkable geological features in the world, wouldn’t it be nice if those of us who live here could say we had seen it first? Wouldn’t it be great if all of us could be spokespersons for this unique and incredibly complex landscape?