![]() Grilled ceviche, sole meuniere, dry-aged cote de boeuf, and pistachio souffle all had something to do with that, along with Chef Cal Elliott.Ī Boise native, Elliott worked his way from an Alaskan fisherman to a Michelin-star chef at his New York restaurant, Rye. During our time in Idaho, our meal at The Avery’s Brasserie was the best of our trip. A flight delay had us landing in Boise with just enough time to grab dinner at our hotel, The Avery. This time, we would expand our “research trip” to five days and three destinations: Boise, Tamarack and McCall. “You promise we can come back when the fish are biting?!”įast forward to summer, and we were on our way to Boise. “So, I think I’m in love with Idaho,” I said. Two beers deep, I ordered a charcuterie board and phoned Benjamin. I sampled local beers at Laughing Dog Brewing and Mick Duff’s on Lake Pend Oreille - Idaho’s largest with 111 miles of shoreline.īack at Humbird, I headed to Crow’s Bench, the hotel’s restaurant serving Alpine-inspired venison tartare, elk loin and wiener schnitzel. That evening, I ventured into Sandpoint, the nearest town with breweries, shops, 40-plus restaurants and over 9,000 residents. Void of mountain ego and lift lines, it was easy to lose track of runs and time, stopping only for summit lunch at Sky House. At the basin, I boarded Stella, Idaho’s only six-passenger lift that kept me on rinse and repeat until my thighs burned and my shins bruised. For two days, the sun smiled on me, begging me to lose myself in the thick of powder chutes, mellow cruisers and gladed stashes. From the lift, a skier hollered, “Head to the North Bowl. Having snowboarded for decades, never had I experienced such loss of perception. The south bowl was socked in thick, triggering vertigo that left me touching the ground for direction. There were no lines and so few people that I had trouble finding someone to follow. Strapping in, I looked around, reliving my solitary 10 p.m. As the largest ski resort in Idaho and Washington, it has 10 lifts, 300 feet of snowfall, and nearly 3,000 acres of skiable terrain.īut stats are one thing. Regardless of backing by the big boys, Schweitzer still has plenty of bragging rights. Ikon Pass holders can officially add Schweitzer to the list of 50 mountains where they can hit the slopes with one card. now the 17th notch in Alterra’s ski-destination belt. ![]() Their independence set them apart from the ski-resort pack, that is until August when they sold Schweitzer to Alterra Mountain Co. Giving them grooming freedom was the fact that Schweitzer’s 7,000 acres are not on National Forest Service land. The McCaw family changed all that in 2006 with improvements that lifted the resort out of bankruptcy. ![]() Until recently, condo rentals were nearly the only lodging option in town. Architecture paid tribute to the area’s logging history utilizing heavy timber construction. In addition to ski-in, ski-out access, rooms had boot dryers, gear hooks, humidifiers and equipment storage. Within the village were a handful of restaurants, shops, a ski center and two hotels, including Humbird.Īs Schweitzer resort’s newest property, Humbird was built with sustainability, design and practicality in mind. The mountain resort had its own village, with most services available in Sandpoint 20 minutes away. Other than the lobby light, it seemed the town had put itself to bed. Pulling into the parking lot, I walked into Humbird Hotel and exhaled a sigh of relief. As a SoCal beach girl, it wasn’t the road to Schweitzer Mountain that got me as much as the isolation. Throw in steep hills, open bowls and lake views, and I was sold - at least for a three-day getaway.Īrriving after dark, I drove 11 miles up hairpin turns. Rumor had it tree skiing was on point, prices were low and crowds were thin. Just an hour and a half from Spokane’s airport, the ski town is based in the rugged Selkirk Mountains of the northern Idaho panhandle. Ironically, not a whole lot had changed as I drove through the city enroute to Schweitzer resort. Back in the 1980s, I myself was a Spokanite. When I told Benjamin I wanted to “investigate” Idaho in winter, he gave me his blessing and said, “Invite me again when the fish are biting.”Īnd so, last winter, when California’s Mammoth Mountain broke snowfall records, I bypassed the seven-hour drive and instead flew from San Diego to Spokane, Wash. In the past two years, we have explored Tennessee, Wyoming and Colorado, turning travels into research trips with benefits. Yet Benjamin and I are planners by nature, aligned in our vision that the grass is, in fact, greener on the other side. Currently in our 40s, we still have time. My husband and I always travel with one eye open, winking at destinations that tease retirement dreams.
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