Dear Teton Valley Newcomer

Welcome! Maybe you’ve been vacationing in this special spot for years, or maybe you recently relocated and bought a house sight unseen, just because someone told you it’s a great place to live and invest in. (They were right.)

I’ve learned quite a few things during my years here. Perhaps some of them could prove useful to you.

As for credentials, I’ve been a Teton Valley newbie twice myself.

The first time was nearly fifty years ago, when I came to the valley the autumn after graduating from the University of Wyoming. I knew not what I was coming here for; only that I had a free place to hole up in a friend’s un- inhabited, unfinished log cabin up Fox Creek. (Teton Valley was quite a different place in 1973.)

The second time was more than twenty-five years ago, when my wife Nancy, whom I met during that long, powdery winter of 1973–74 as a fellow employee—turns out what I was coming here for the first time was to be the night cook at Grand Targhee Resort— moved here fulltime from Missoula, Montana. (And again, Teton Valley was quite a different place in 1995.)

So, for what it’s worth, and in no special order, here are some of the things I’ve learned along the way that might help you start your chapter here.

I’ve learned…

• to stay off the mountain-bike trails when they’re muddy.

• that winter, while I love it, can be excruciatingly long … and to get out as much as possible into the cold snow and brilliant sunshine.

• to get my tires siped for winter driving.

• to always carry food and water, a sleeping bag, a shovel, and a tow strap in my truck in the winter. When you end up in a snow-filled borrow pit, the next pickup truck driver to go by will probably pull you out with her own tow rope. But you’ll want yours for the next time you come across somebody else in the ditch. Pay it—or I should say, pull it?—forward!

• to also keep plenty of food and water at the house in winter.

• to preserve my back when shoveling snow by practicing ambidexterity.

• to drive through Victor at 25 miles per hour instead of the posted, and too-fast, speed limit of 35 mph. (I’ve also learned that it’s tempting to drive at 35 mph on Cedron Road as it enters Victor, where the speed limit is 25 mph. I think they got the speed-limit signs mixed up.)

• that even though I’m pretty goodat math and geography, I still can’t wrap my head around a road junction marked by a pair of green street signs reading “W 8000 S” and “S 2000 W.”

• that if someone is trashing an immaculately groomed Nordic ski trail by walking or snowshoeing down the middle of it, they’re probably uninformed rather than uncaring.

• that while there may be no such thing as a bad dog, there are plenty of bad (or “uninformed”) dog owners. Please respect leash laws on trails.

• that the vast experience or worldliness you bring with you mean little until you apply them locally—as a nonprofit volunteer, perhaps; getting involved in something that calls on your expertise and/or touches your heart.

• that the more local politics become, the more impact the individual can have.

• to wait a day or two before emailing that letter you just wrote to the editor of the Teton Valley News. Then rewrite it and send it.

• that the Corner Drug pharmacists treat you more like a person than a number.

• that “out below” refers in particular to Idaho Falls and in general to anywhere west of here in Idaho that’s at lower elevation.

• that some people can grow tomatoes in Teton Valley and I’m not one of them. (As a major consolation, I’ve also learned the location of some of the best huckleberry patches in the Big Holes.)

• that eggs produced by local free-range chickens have really yellow yolks and really great flavor.

• that when driving on the highway it is both safer and more considerate to leave a big space between my car and the one in front of me.

• that I’d rather drive to town surrounded by farm fields than past the ever-encroaching subdivisions.

• not to get impatient with the farmer who’s meandering down the back roads in a big Gleaner combine and taking up most of both lanes. I figure the 160-acre field he’s heading to or from, were it subdivided, could hold five dozen new houses. If that happened, how many cars and trucks would supplant that one combine?

• to smile and give the two-finger “peace sign” wave to those driving the opposite direction on one of our rural roads.

• to slow down on those gravel roads when meeting or overtaking cyclists, so as not to envelop them in a dust storm.

• to slow down to the speed limit (or slower) everywhere. A lot of people claim to have moved here for the slower pace of life, and our public highways and byways make great places to start practicing that slowness.

• that getting stuck in the middle of a cattle drive on Cedron Road is aways fun and funny, regardless of how many times it happens.

• to tip hard-working restaurant servers at a percentage point that would elicit gasps from my late, pennywise, Great Depression-raised parents.

• to try to not feel inconvenienced when my favorite restaurant is closed for the off-season (read: late April– May and late October–Thanksgiving).

• that the twin mud seasons are good times to go somewhere else, anyway.

• that “free” music isn’t free; some- body’s paying for it—and that tipping musicians is a wise move that just might help forestall the arrival of the day the music dies.

• that I miss Targhee Fest and Targhee Bluegrass like long-lost friends, and hope they’ll return for encores after being AWOL for the past three summers.

• that a lot of people prefer using horse-power to explore the
mountains, whether it’s a one-horsepower Paint or a fifty-horsepower Honda.

• in winter, snowmachiners often unknowingly create some of the best cross-country ski tracks around.

• that the Broulim’s supermarket in Driggs doesn’t close in a blizzard, even when the schools do. Unless the blizzard hits on a Sunday, when it’s closed anyway. (Victor Valley Market and Barrels & Bins, however, are open on Sundays.)

• that I don’t run into as many people I know at Broulim’s as I used to. I’ve also learned how to work the self-checkout kiosks; the lines can be unbearably long and it takes some pressure off the staff.

• that it can be symbiotically rewarding to get to know your neighbors. For one thing, it’s nice to be able to walk to and from a party, rather than drive.

• to buy locally more often; that lower prices and convenient home delivery don’t always translate to the best of deals. The pluses of face-to-face service and interaction can far outweigh the savings of a few dollars.

• to respect and admire landlords who sacrifice some potential earnings by renting to long-term residents rather than to itinerant AirBnBers.

• that development is inevitable. Ten years from now residents will look back and say Teton Valley is quite a different place than it was in 2022.

Finally, I’ve learned that not all of the onus to get along is on the newcomer. I’ve observed plenty of “locals” behaving badly as of late. And really, what makes a local? I believe it’s more a matter of outlook and demeanor than roots or longevity. Be nice! Be kind! And expect the same from others.