When we drove through Idaho on our way from Seattle to Rochester in 2005, I hadn’t been in the state since sometime in the early ’80s, when the family spent a week in Ketcham and Sun Valley while Dad was at a law conference. I don’t remember much beyond getting in some sort of trouble with the teenage attendants of the paddle boats on a lake in town. Were Scott and I paddling outside the limits? Who knows – probably Scott, actually. Anyway, Sun Valley and paddleboats were my only memories of Idaho for many years, until we crossed from eastern Washington and stopped in Coeur d’Alene for lunch. We visited the building shaped like a miner’s hat in Kellogg, as well, and then were off to Montana and parts east.
Our second recent trip to Idaho, just a year later, came on the heels of a friend’s wedding in Montana (on a Friday) and my first day of work in Los Angeles (on Monday). We took off from Helena on Saturday morning and drove the picturesque height of eastern Idaho on I-15, stopping for lunch at the Snakebite in Idaho Falls. The state, like many I’ve passed through, deserves more than a cursory interstate criss-crossing – one day, perhaps.
