For over twenty years, Ernest Hemingway spent virtually every fall and winter at Sun Valley, Idaho. Although his legendary haunts were Italy, France, Switzerland, Spain and Cuba, Idaho was his true home. The wild mountain crags, the sunny meadows were his nirvana. The hunting and fishing were always good there. The canoe trip down the Silver Creek or a trek up a pass of the Pahsimeroi (Paw-sim-er-roy) Range unfailingly yielded fresh game for the table. Papa and his fiction thrived on the alternating sessions of high adventure and novel writing. He presented himself to the world as a man’s man, and in both his published work and his very public behavior he established a heroic image of himself as an athlete and a sportsman, a worldly-wise reporter, a battle-scarred soldier, an aficionado of the Spanish bullfight, and a hard-drinking, hard-living man, who in fact, was a terribly tortured soul. This is the story of Hemingway.