Our little trio—Grant, Ripley, and me—embarked on a family adventure to Boise, Idaho. We expected a light, relaxing getaway. Instead, we got a comedy of travel, overeating, scenic detours, toddler moods, and one very frigid hot springs misadventure. In other words…it was perfect.
We flew Southwest into Boise, and we lucked out that Ripley got his own seat. He’s under two, so we didn't have to pay, but we figured we would chance it with Southwest, and we lucked out! We brought along the CARES Airplane Harness—the FAA-approved kid-seatbelt substitute that every parent on the internet swears by. It worked. It strapped him in, and he was stuck. It kept Ripley contained, comfortable, and—wait for it—asleep. This has never happened. This felt monumental—like stepping through a portal into a future where flying might one day be pleasant. We landed in Boise feeling victorious.
Once we landed, we picked up our rental car—a Ford Bronco—which made us feel outdoorsy even though our most rugged activity was finding parking downtown. The drive from the airport into Boise was uneventful. We did notice that it was quite empty. Turns out there are 2 million people in the entire state. For comparison, there are 2.4 million people in San Diego County, which is probably why it felt so abandoned.
We checked into the Holiday Inn Suites. A two-bedroom suite, clean, spacious, and shockingly quiet. Perfect for a toddler who does not believe in bedtime…or walls…or sound limits. It wasn’t luxury, but it was the kind of place you feel grateful for every time you realize you don’t have to sleep right next to your child.
That night, we headed to Bardeday Distillery in downtown Boise. The place had a cool craft-distillery vibe with dim lighting, big wooden tables, and a menu we definitely underestimated. We were hungry. Too hungry. Yes, we over-ordered. By a lot. The food was fine—good but not “write-home-about-it”—Grant liked it way more than me.
Afterward, we walked around downtown Boise’s pedestrian-friendly streets. Ripley found climbing structures and little play zones tucked between buildings, which he treated like his personal American Ninja Warrior course. We went back to the hotel early because we're parents and “nightlife” is now defined as getting into bed before 10 p.m.
We started the day at Moon’s Kitchen Café, which is a Boise staple and known for its breakfast menu. Grant ordered the sausage and gravy biscuits. He declared them the best he has ever had—and he has eaten a LOT of biscuits. Ripley, however, was having none of it. He was wiggly, fussy, and restless. So I took him for a walk, which probably contributed to Grant’s five-star review of his meal and my three-star review.
Walking around downtown with Ripley was an adventure in itself. Boise has scooters everywhere and Ripley wanted to jump on, sit on, and ride every single one. While wandering, we stumbled onto Freak Alley Gallery—Boise’s iconic open-air mural space. It’s a long, colorful alley covered top to bottom with graffiti, street art, and murals that rotate every year. Ripley loved the colors; I loved the “Breaking Boise” artwork—a local parody of Breaking Bad with Boise skyline elements.
Fueled by biscuits and ambition, Grant announced he wanted to drive to Kirkham Hot Springs, two hours outside Boise. It was a scenic drive through pine forests, winding rivers, and mountain edges. About 20 minutes outside Boise, our cell reception dipped from “weak” to “why bother.” The scenery became more gorgeous the further we got outside of Boise—towering trees, riverbanks, and mountain ranges that looked like they were airbrushed. We stopped at a pull-off to admire the river. It was peaceful, quiet, stunning…and cold. So cold.
When we arrived at Kirkham, the truth hit hard:
It was freezing.
We forgot towels.
Ripley was unimpressed.
And…the hot springs were technically closed because the federal government had not fully reopened.
Classic.
We dipped a toe (literally and metaphorically) into the experience, got the gist, shivered, and left. We bundled Ripley up in all of our dry clothes and raced back to the car barefoot. All of us lived, no broken bones, so not the end of the world.
Driving back, we relearned the important Idaho lesson: Once you leave Boise, your phone becomes a paperweight. Even 20–30 minutes outside the city, reception is spotty at best. Once we returned to civilization, we stopped at Acero Boards & Bottles downtown. The place was fantastic: trendy, inviting, and exactly what we needed after our ice-bath wilderness adventure. Grant got his sangria, charcuterie board, and a few extra things. Dinner was delicious. Really, nothing fixes a cold, towel-less hot springs attempt like charcuterie.
We called it another early night. Ripley, however, called it “I refuse to go to sleep, good luck.” Bedtime was a struggle of Olympic proportions, but eventually sleep won.
Sunday morning began with Grant in full hangry mode.
A dangerous state. A time-sensitive emergency.
We drove to multiple restaurants: all had long waits. Not ideal when traveling with a hungry adult and a toddler who wakes up each day with the energy of a caffeinated squirrel. Finally, we landed at Tupelo Honey. The food was…fine. Not great, not terrible. But at that moment, it was exactly what we needed—food, fast.
Before heading to the airport, we visited the Boise Depot—a beautiful historic train depot with Spanish-style architecture, panoramic city views, and, of course, a train. It’s peaceful, scenic, and a great stop with kids. The highlight for Ripley was the koi fish in the ponds and the ducks wandering around. It was the perfect, calm way to wrap up the trip.
We hopped on an unfilled Southwest flight—every parent’s dream—and made it home without a single issue. A miracle ending to a very full weekend.
