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Southern Idaho: An improvement --
sort of
We
escaped from the desert on the fifth day of our so-far unsatisfactory
trip. It's never been our favorite thing to move frequently -- we like to
find a nice camp and stay for a while -- so we were still looking for that
elusive happy place. Alas, Xanadu was not to be found simply by leaving
Nevada.
I had
calculated that Ketchum, Idaho, the nearest town to the Sun Valley resort area,
was about the right distance for one day's travel. I'd only visited Sun
Valley once many years ago to ski, but I thought the summer mountain environment
might be a pleasant place to spend a few days before moving on
toward Yellowstone. So after several hours' drive thru the desert, we
finally started to wind our way into the forests of the Sawtooth Mountains.
Curiously,
I had trouble finding information about any RV parks near Ketchum. That
was a warning signal, but I ignored it. A day before leaving, we contacted
the one place we could find, and the owner made it sound pleasant enough,
offering us a place "near the creek". Okey-dokey, then. We
located the place easily enough, as it was on the main road to Ketchum.
It's pretty hard to miss a tumble-down trailer park with a couple of dozen RVs
crammed into it, right up against the highway. If there was a creek on
this property, it must have been a Native American, not a body of
water. We beat a hasty retreat. After a fruitless trip to the
Ketchum tourist office -- it was Sunday, so it was closed, of course -- and
consulting with a local wandering the streets, we concluded what I should already have known: Sun
Valley is too hoity-toity and upscale to allow any of its precious land to be
occupied by RV'ers. So we reluctantly turned around to drive back toward
Twin Falls and possible alternative lodging.
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On-the-road
internet is a handy thing when you're searching for a place to light.
Online, I found a couple of likely-looking RV parks along interstate 84.
And, of course, that's exactly where they were -- directly alongside the
interstate.
Exhausted, we finally settled for a place called Village of
Trees, halfway between Twin Falls and Pocatello. It was actually a lovely
spot in many ways; the trees were for real, large and shady, and a nice stretch
of the Snake River was about a hundred yards away. It would have been
exactly our kind of place except for the zooming traffic assaulting our ears
all day. A bridge over the Snake seemed to operate like an echo
chamber in
the afternoon hours, amplifying the roar to painful levels.
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<--Village of Trees, along interstate 84 in southern Idaho.
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