I have lived in the West most of my life and traveled to nearly every big city, dozens of hamlets, hard-to-get-to towns tucked away in obscure mountain ranges, but in all my travels I somehow had never visited Boise, Idaho. Perhaps I recalled the state slogan from the license plates—Famous Potatoes—and pictured farmland and old pick-up trucks. What I didn’t imagine is a city full of kind and sociable locals, a vibrant outdoor community, and a downtown scene with local shops, restaurants, pubs and distilleries, indie coffee shops, a vintage record store, small and large concert venues, weekly summer concerts, river floating, a green belt…I think you get the point. I also didn’t know this would be one of the most surprising trips I’ve had in years.
I had a room booked at The Modern Hotel, a mid-century modern (just as it boasts in the title) space with clean, wood lines and chic furniture. I checked in and took a seat at the bar for a cocktail and a little nosh. The aromatic craft cocktails with juniper and sage would have been enough, but I had to blink to see the chef was James Beard-nominated. I had clearly made a good decision with lodging.
I ventured out on foot down Main Street and up Idaho Street, the two central thoroughfares of downtown Boise. The tall glass windows of local shops glowed in the golden hour of the evening with glass art and local painters’ work. Brilliant graffiti murals were cast on the sides of buildings. Boutique clothing stores proudly displayed their wares next to grab-n-go grub joints with gyros, street tacos, or burritos. The Idanha Hotel, now rented as apartments, is a French-chateau style building towering over Main Street with heavily wooded bar , 10th Street Station Bar, home of the heavy pour and a proclaimed hangout for ghosts from the hotel days. I inspected the building’s gothic pillars, then saw the glass business high rises only a few blocks away, and I could see the charm of this second-tier Western city. This is where the old and the new, the rugged and the chic, and urban and the rural all converge in this city the French called, Les bois, The woods. And it seems I was finally able to distinguish the forest for the trees.
The next morning I took a run on the Greenbelt: a paved bike and walking path that follows the Boise River. I stopped at a bridge to take in the cool morning air and saw fishermen on the shore, lines cast into the calm, flowing water. A woman approached me and smiled, we talked and she told me she and her family used to barbeque on the banks every Sunday while her husband played guitar. She walked on and I finished my run through Ann Morrison Park: one of the largest parks in the city. Think Central Park without cars, a nearby flowing river, and geese and ducks abounding.
I’d heard from a friend that Boise folks like to get outside. There were numerous spots to get geared up, but I landed on Idaho Mountain Touring where I rented a clean Trek for a reasonable deal. I headed out from the shop downtown toward Table Rock. There is a network of hiking and biking trails that lead up to a mesa on top of which boasts a 60-foot illuminated cross. Although this religious symbol has caused much debate over the years, in 1972 the Jaycees (United States Junior Chamber) bought a four square-foot dot of land and planted the symbol, placing it on private land, and thus legal.
From atop the mesa I can see the massive grove of trees that is the city of Boise. It’s green and calm and quiet. A group of runners who meet every Saturday to hump up the 3.1 mile Table Rock trail told me they like to finish their run with a reward beer at Payette Brewing Co., or 10 Barrel Brewing, or Powderhaus Brewing Co. We talked bikes for a bit and they asked me to join them at the bottom. So after a few more miles of rolling single track, I join them at Payette. We laughed and talked goofy about some of our favorite travel destinations. One guy explained why he was stained with dirt after catching a toe on a rock and going head over heels on the run down. When I ask them about things to do they rave about the Knitting Factory, a concert venue in town, and the Egyptian Theatre.
The Knitting Factory hosts brilliant up-and-coming and indie artists while the Egyptian Theatre, the oldest in the city, erected in 1927, hosts silent movies with full orchestras, classic operas, film festivals, and so much more. Again it became clear that I had misjudged this incredible town. With my time dwindling, it felt like 8:00 pm on Sunday evening when the impending responsibilities of “real life” start to take the shape of Monday morning. I was going to miss it here.
On Sunday morning I talked with the staff at The Modern. They told me about Bogus Basin, the local non-profit ski resort that invests all of its profits into year-round community building. And they told me about the Historic North End, where I headed and found the Boise Co-op, community gardens, and a thriving community of locals engaged in everything from growing local food to a chess club for young adults. I ate Potatoes O’Brien for breakfast and kept walking with my cappuccino from Hyde Perk. It was then when I felt like not so much an observer as a temporary resident in this hidden gem of a city.
Idaho’s nickname is the “Gem State”. Even one of its counties is named Gem. I’d like to imagine that I discovered some secret here in the West, that it was only because of my own guile that I was able to find this hidden city. But it’s clear that Boise is a town comfortable in its own identity: happy to be small yet so big for its size. Whatever sorcery has kept this town from my finding is beyond me. Boise is without a doubt the best kept secret in the West.