Fun at the Country's Largest Mountain Lake!

The Sierras, Lake Tahoe, and the Beach
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The night my friend and I drove into South Lake Tahoe, some drunk resort employee jumped off the Tahoe Queen dinner cruise ship into the lake. He swam through the icy water, avoiding the monster (well, there's a poor legend, but I hope it acquires a little more legitimacy, monsters are such wonderful tourism pulls), and beached himself on one of the islands. Soon this sort of behavior was normalized, when it became obvious that what people do here is get drunk and act stupid.

Now I don't want to sound negative. But there is that culture in town, which was a small village just ten years ago, and has boomed into a rich Vegas-come-Aspen, where richies winter to gamble and ski. Vail Resorts bought Heavenly mountain, and soon much of the once privately owned downtown. The Nevada border in town provided the sinful attractions, and the new South Lake was born. Today the resorts provide most of the employment in town, but there isn't enough business, or high costs, to plump the wallet of the average local. The only activities in town are riding the mountains (which seasonal employees who come for the powder can afford because they get jobs at the resorts), hiking, rock climbing, and drinking. The last one is a far cry from Vegas, where somehow the lights, sounds, and extravagance lulls you into paying ten bucks for a cocktail. Here, drink specials rule, and are the only way to maintain year round custom from the locals.

Fun at Cabo Wabo with Will, Jess, and Dana
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We started in Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo at one of the Nevada casinos. Corona's, shots of jagermeister or tequila, and red bull and vodkas were two bucks. This is a bad idea at 6000 feet elevation. Except for the locals, who were completely acclimatized. So I mean it was a bad idea for me. Let's just say I marked that first night, my last night as a partying twenty-something.  But oh what a night! There was a stripper pole on a short stage in the dance hall, a rowdy bachelor party from Ontario, and a huge arcade right around the corner inside the casino. I am terrible at motorcross games. The youths in this town live it up like they've boarded the ultimate party-train.

The Sierras, Lake Tahoe, the California evergreens, and the ugly Nevada casinos
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The next day it was bright and clear with cotton-candy wisps of clouds spread across the sky. A brisk wind blew over the lake, picked up the water into waves,

eased the heat of the midday sun. We drove to the beach with some fold-out chairs from the living room and settled ourselves on the course sand, orange and pebbly from limited digestion and tide churning. The mountains sitting on this awesome lake took my breath away. I desperately fiddled with settings on the camera, wishing I had better light collection and maybe eight megapixels instead of four. The pictures aren't perfect, but they are of stunning scenery, and no camera wouldn't capture that. We sat and talked and dipped tentative appendages into the water. We promised each other that the warmest night of my visit we'll skinny dip. We watched the water gradually approach our feet. We sat quietly.

Up on Chinmey Rock
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We spent the afternoon there on that beach, and then even more time, when we prepared to leave and the chairs were stuck in their spread positions, that course sand preventing any of our comical efforts to actually fold the chairs again. Some of the other visitors watch us, like primates in 2001: A Space Odyssey, curious and soon aggressive, attempting to hit and squeeze and shake the chairs into submission. I give up and start toting the chair in its welcoming position back to the car. My friend follows. About a quarter mile down the road we stop again. With a cloudy brain, I look at the chair and its simple mechanisms, and cannot fathom my failure. We shake and push the pieces until they finally give, and we cheer and whoop with our folded chairs above our heads in exaltation (we were nearly reduced in shame just then, you know).

Lake Tahoe Family Recreation Area, Seagull
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Over the course of the week we enjoy the following specials:

2 dollar tacos at Steamers (veggie, fish, chicken or beef with fresh tomato, lettuce, and delicious salsa on a soft fried tortilla)

Ladies drink free 8-midnight at the bar Opal, Wednesdays

4 dollar well drinks when your friend performs at the usually empty open-mic night at Tahoe Underground and brings thirty thirsty friends

Tahoe Underground: open-mic night turns into Karaoke
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2 dollar drinks at Lakeside Casino

2.99 Lumberjack breakfast at Lakeside's Timber Lodge Restaurant starting at 10 pm

2 dollar drinks at Bill's 24/7.

And our week was relatively calm. We didn't go out every night, but looking at that list it sure looks like it.

another at the beach, with lake and mountains as far as you can zoom out
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The conditions on the mountain were lousy that week, and working hours were reduced, so one afternoon four of us head out for a hike up to Chimney Rock. The trail is barely accessible from the road, but it's a charming hike once you're on it. No faux peaks, just a moseying, level section then a steady climb for about thirty to forty minutes. When we reach the top of the hill, there is a large mass of boulders, and one of them sits upon the hill like a smoke stack. This is chimney rock, and we must scramble to the top. Once on the mighty chimney's lip, we sit and pose for extreme photos. There are birds gliding along the breeze far beneath us. My friends scan the landscape to mark where they work, the embarrassing estates plucked inside the forest, where fire safety regulations require large ugly clearings around the McMansions. They find their favorite mountain runs, and we all guffaw at the hideous casinos that ruined this hike's chance of revealing pristine natural views.

another from chimney rock- you can see the desert way off to the left
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On my second to last day there, we take a drive to Markleeville, about forty minutes, to the Grover Hot Springs. Situated in a beautiful state park within the bosom of rolling baby Sierras, there are two springs: one hot, one cool. The hot pool is a calming 105 degrees fahrenheit, and the other is a refreshing 70. We spent the afternoon heating ourselves in the steaming mineral water, then shocking our systems and invigorating our sleepy brains in the cold. The hot bath was tricky. At first I thought it was nothing compared to the 120 degrees at the agua caliente in Banos, Ecuador. Then I waited awhile, dipping and stretching my body so only my head was exposed to the chilly mountain air. And soon, my thoughts slowed, and my eyelids were also pulled toward the water. When my body was fully drowsy, I forced myself into the cold pool and felt like I was awoken from hypnosis, immediately restored. I adored this process of back and forth, from geothermal constant cool to the the spring from one of earth's internal cauldrons. Right when I thought I had no more energy, my friend dips her head, and I follow. With cold wet hair, we are able to stay in the hot pool for a few more pleasant minutes.

We blast Jay-Z's Black Album on the way home to try to stay awake.

The next day we leave to return to wine country, where my car is waiting, and the coast beckons another visit.