While Amy and I were piloting our Winnebago Brave through Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, a group of folks was converging not too far away in Sun Valley. They were gathering for something called the Allen & Company conference. And by a group of folks I mean some of the nation’s richest and most powerful—Apple CEO Tim Cook, Disney CEO Bob Iger, NBA commissioner Adam Silver, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, etc. Our invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.
But it got me thinking: Geez, if I had that kind of money, if I had options, if I was a mogul of this or a titan of that, what would I do? Well, surely I’d get my hands on a sweet ride. Something iconic. maybe retro, possibly cherry red. Yeah, that’s what I’d do.
Being wealthy and powerful and all, I would snag front row seats to a riveting sporting spectacle. No, not the NBA Finals or Wimbledon. Something unusual, something befitting my peculiar tastes—like, for instance, a whitewater version of a rodeo along the Staircase Rapids of the south Fork of Idaho’s Payette River.
Of course, I’d have a house in the mountains. Gotta have a house in the mountains. But not just any old mountains. I’m talking about a place where the locals—an eclectic mix that includes river rafters, ranchers, and back country guides—like to describe it as a place that “awakens each morning to the freshest air on earth.” Yeah, that’s it. I’d be able to afford the freshest air on earth.
I’d still want to explore the back roads in my sweet ride. How about the Salmon River Scenic Byway, where you’re so close to the river for so long that you start to wonder: Am I driving an RV or a riverboat?
Once a bathhouse three quarters of a century ago, and now a historic site, Sunbeam Hot Springs is where the natural healing properties of a hot springs are diverted into the naturally spectacular Salmon River. Yep, I’d make my natural hot tub open to the public, too. Find a seat. Take a load off. Soak in the serenity.
When I really want to get away, I’d play golf. In fact, I’d find a piece of property right next to a golf course. I’d merely walk a few hundred feet, and I’d be at the first tee. Well, all we had to do was drive about an hour northeast of Stanley and then park ourselves at the Challis Golf Course RV Park.
We rented clubs and a cart, and we spent an afternoon hacking to our heart’s content. Sure, my nine-hole score just about matched the population of Stanley. And Amy’s total was probably the population of Boise. But we had almost the whole course to ourselves. And the backdrop? Breathtaking.
And if I could pursue my druthers with no limitations, I’d probably locate some more land, something along the water. Like, say, the Wagonhammer RV Campground two miles south of North Fork, Idaho, a little slice of paradise along the river. The call it the River of No Return, maybe because everybody is inspired to stay.
So while those other deep-pocketed, influence-wielding heavyweights were huddling in Sun Valley, we were on the move. And somewhere along the road I realized that I am, indeed, a CEO of sightseeing, a commissioner of camping, a mogul of the motorcoach, a titan of travel.
And, of course, that’s priceless.