My husband and I always travel with one eye open, winking at destinations that tease retirement dreams. Currently in our 40s, we still have time. Yet Benjamin and I are planners by nature, aligned in our vision that the grass is, in fact, greener on the other side.
In the past two years, we have explored Tennessee, Wyoming and Colorado, turning travels into research trips with benefits. 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.”
And 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. Back in the 1980s, I myself was a Spokanite. Ironically, not a whole lot had changed as I drove through the city en route to Schweitzer resort. 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.
Rumor had it tree skiing was on point, prices were low and crowds were thin. Throw in steep hills, open bowls and lake views, and I was sold — at least for a three-day getaway.