A letter from a local
The Snake runs through the middle of everything.
The falls the town is named for churn right along the downtown greenbelt — I walk the river at lunch with a fly rod in the truck, because the South Fork of the Snake, thirty minutes east, is one of the great cottonwood-canyon trout rivers in America: five thousand fish a mile in places.
Kelly Canyon's night-skiing lifts are forty-five minutes out for the weekday fix; Grand Targhee's powder is a hundred minutes on the weekend run. Teton views start an hour east, Craters of the Moon's black wilderness an hour west, and Yellowstone's back door sits ninety minutes north.
INL and the hospital anchor real engineering paychecks in a town where the mortgage is polite. The fishing alone would keep me.
— Blake