Without a refrigerator, the large family of four adults and two small children keeps produce on plywood shelves. Without a sink, they wash the dishes and themselves in the nearby park. With no bedrooms, the six of them sleep on three single mattresses on the floor. “I’m very anxious, depressed and scared,” said Ms Bartolome, who makes a living looking after the homes of wealthy residents but cannot afford even the cheapest housing in the famous ski and golf playground. Resort towns have long struggled with how to house their workers, but in places like Sun Valley those challenges have become a crisis as the gap widens between those who own two homes and those who hold two jobs. Fueled in part by an out-migration pandemic that has eaten away at the region’s limited housing supply, rents have skyrocketed in the past two years, leaving exhausted workers living in trucks, trailers or tents. It’s not just service workers who are struggling to keep up. A program director at the YMCA lives in a camper on a piece of land in Hailey. A high school principal in Cary lived in a camper but then upgraded to a tiny apartment in an industrial building. A Ketchum City Council member bounces between the homes of friends and family, unable to afford a place of his own. A small business owner in Sun Valley spends every evening driving dirt roads in the desert, parking his truck under the trees and getting quiet for the night. The housing shortage now threatens to cripple what was a thriving economy and cherished sense of community. The hospital, school district and sheriff’s office have seen prospective employees bail on job offers after realizing the cost of living was untenable. The Fire Department that covers Sun Valley has launched a $2.75 million fundraising campaign to build housing for their firefighters. Already, restaurants that can’t hire enough service workers are closing or reducing hours. And the problems are starting to spread to other businesses, said Michael David, a Ketchum councilman who has worked on housing issues for the past two decades. “It’s kind of a house of cards,” he said. “It’s close to tipping over.” Built as a destination ski resort to mirror the iconic winter appeal of the Alps, the Sun Valley region has evolved into an exclusive enclave for the rich and famous, attracting Hollywood celebrities, Washington political elites and Wall Street business titans, many of who gather each year for Allen & Company’s annual media finance conference, known as “billionaire summer camp.” They have collected desirable vacation homes nestled next to winter ski resorts and summer golf courses, far from the noisy crowds of their cities. With the onset of the pandemic, the area saw an influx of wealthy buyers looking for a work-from-home destination with plenty of amenities, and the migration drove up housing costs even more. In Ketchum, the city next to Sun Valley, officials found that home prices have increased more than 50 percent in the past two years, with the median price reaching about $1.2 million. Two-bedroom rents rose from less than $2,000 a month to more than $3,000. Those shake-ups came after two decades of little homebuilding in the city and a dramatic shift in recent years that has turned rental units into those either kept largely vacant by their owners or used as short-term rentals. Similar trends are occurring in resort towns throughout the Rocky Mountain West, including Jackson Hole, Wyo., Aspen, Colo. and Whitefish, Mont. Although some larger employers, including the Sun Valley Company, have developed dormitory-style living options for seasonal workers, they have done little to change housing trajectories for the broader communities. People filed into a regional food bank in Bellevue, Idaho, on a recent afternoon, ordering boxes of food from a warehouse full of Idaho grains, fresh produce and potatoes. A family there said they were evicted from the trailer park where they live because the land was to be redeveloped. They couldn’t find a new place and were afraid of what would come next. The food bank has seen demand rise over the past two years, serving about 200 families each week to nearly 500 and counting, said Brooke Pace McKenna, leader of the Hunger Coalition, which runs the food bank. “Increasingly, we’re seeing the teachers, the police, the fire department,” Ms McKenna said. Kayla Burton grew up in the Sun Valley area and moved away after high school more than a decade ago. When she returned last year to take a job as a high school principal, she and her teacher husband were shocked at how difficult it was to find a place to live. Housing prices were out of control, he said, even for places in desperate need of repair. When rentals became available, properties were flooded with applicants. The couple considered trying to build their own place, but found the cost too prohibitive. Mrs. Burton and her husband moved into a camper on her parents’ property. The couple have since managed to find a unit inside an industrial building with no air conditioning, leaving them wondering if it’s the kind of place they’d want to start a family. “We’re at this weird point in our lives right now,” he said. With some job seekers unwilling to make the move, the area school district now has 26 jobs, some that have been unfilled for months. The district is working on plans to develop seven affordable housing units for workers. Gretchen Gorham, co-owner of Johnny G’s Subshack in Ketchum, said while it was vital to find housing for firefighters, teachers and nurses, she was also concerned about the many people serving vehicles, equipment and homes. This year, Ketchum officials asked voters to approve a tax increase to fund affordable housing for hundreds of workers over the next 10 years. It didn’t pass. “We live in a Wizard of Oz town,” Ms. Gorham said. “People say one thing and then behind a closed curtain do another.” District officials are looking for Band-Aid solutions. In Hailey, city rules prohibit RVs from parking on private property for more than 30 days, but council members agreed not to enforce those rules for now. As a result, RVs can be seen on streets and yards throughout the city. In Ketchum, officials considered opening a tent city for the workers, but decided against the idea. So, in an area whose main asset is its impressive wilderness, some people have taken refuge in the forest. Aaron Clark, 43, who owns a window washing business, lost his long-term lease this spring when the landlord sold the property for far more than Mr. Clark could afford. Knowing the exorbitant cost of all the other options around him, Mr. Clark moved to the truck he uses to transport his ladders and washing equipment. Inside the truck, it has a bed and cabinets and recently added amenities like a sink with running water and solar power. He also got a cooler, so he no longer has to bring back an icebox for his food. At the back there is a shower hose with hot water. Every night, when he finishes work, he drives out into the wilderness to park for the night. On a recent day, he found a spot at the end of a potholed dirt road next to a stream where he spent some time evaluating the cryptocurrency market on his computer and then played fetch with his dog. Mr Clarke said he had found joy in the lifestyle, which at least allowed him to save for when he eventually got back into the housing market. But it has its challenges. “It’s a drain, every day, deciding, ‘Where am I going to park, where am I going to go?’ he said. “You leave work, you’re tired, you’re hungry, you’re dirty, and now you have to decide what to do next.” Of the area’s many Latino workers, about a quarter to a half live in difficult situations, said Herbert Romero, co-founder of Neighbors Helping Neighbors, a community outreach group. He said he had seen up to 10 people living in two-bedroom caravans. Others stay on couches. Some have lived in vehicles. Ricky Williams, 37, grew up in the area before moving away and starting a career in the fire service. A year ago, he and his wife planned a return to the Sun Valley area, expecting a high cost of living but still unprepared for what they would find. He recalled checking out a dilapidated house that was on the market for $750,000 — well beyond their budget with him as a full-time firefighter and his wife a small business owner — and there was a rush of potential buyers the day it was available for viewing. . He said the couple were lucky to get one of the existing Fire Department housing, paying reduced rent to live next to a fire station in exchange for being on call outside of normal working hours. Mr Williams said he feared what was happening in his hometown as he saw people being punished and turned away. “It affected so many of my friends and family,” she said. “I came back here to this community to give back to the community. And I see it slowly diminishing. It’s quite heartbreaking.”
