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- About Bob
Lake
Tahoe--I must admit I felt a little embarrassed when my
horse halted abruptly just a few steps out of the corral,
refusing to follow the other riders in my party.
But when the beast began walking backwards, with me perched ridiculously on top, like a clown on a trick pony, that's when I felt the first twinges of complete humiliation kick in. In seconds I had gone from a competent, agile outdoorsman to a helpless, floundering fool.
This equestrian adventure had sounded like loads of fun back when my girlfriend and I were planning it. We had envisioned galloping along the shores of Lake Tahoe on our trusty steeds, the breeze in our hair. It had never occurred to me that my steed might not be so trusty.
But once a ranch hand explained that pulling tightly on the reigns did not, in fact, encourage the horse's progress but rather signaled it to shift into reverse, and I managed to actually get onto the trail and into the woods, I began to enjoy the feeling of bouncing along, my head some 10 feet in the air, watching the woods slip past beside me.
And when the shimmering, blue surface of Lake Tahoe came into view, snow-capped mountains rising behind it, I suddenly felt there was no better place on earth from which to witness the timeless scene than the back of a horse.
Summer at Tahoe was looking pretty good.
As a skiing
paradise, Tahoe has enjoyed plenty of upbeat winter
publicity. But summers at Tahoe can be just as jam packed
with activity. Hiking, mountain biking and horseback riding
can carry you high into the quiet, pine-clad hills, while
boating, sunbathing and swimming will put you face to face
with the impossibly clear alpine lake--so crystalline that
you can reportedly see objects 70 feet below.
There are fascinating nearby towns to explore, like Carson City and Virginia City, plus tourist sites like Ponderosa Ranch, a theme park inspired by the Bonanza TV series. And if you're still walking at night, Nevada has thoughtfully provided a host of casinos into which you can pour your money.
With so much going on here I had little trouble deciding to visit Tahoe after learning I'd be attending a conference in nearby Reno. I invited my girlfriend Felicia to join me, and once my meetings ended we rented a car and headed south.
Cresting Spooner Summit on Highway 50, we caught
our first tantalizing glimpse of the lake, a flash of blue
peeking out from behind the tall pines. Eager to see more,
we pulled into the first turnoff we found and jumped out,
hurrying down a short, rocky trail toward the water.
In a sudden burst of blue, the full majesty of the lake reached out and grabbed us. It was enormous, its far shore 10 miles distant. Snow-capped mountains ringed the lake, seeming out of place in the dry summer heat. A single speedboat crossed the water, its wake rippling the surface. We sat on the rocks, lizards dashing past our feet, and contemplated the scene for a long time.
With its depth plunging to 1,645 feet, Tahoe is the third
deepest lake in North America. It's 22 miles long, 12 miles
wide and has 71 miles of shoreline, most of which lies in
California. Those shores were the home of the Washo Indians
for thousands of years before John C. Fremont and his men
spied the lake in 1844, the first whites to do so. In 1861
the ubiquitous Mark Twain spent a few weeks by the lake,
declaring: "The eye never tired of gazing, night or day,
calm or storm."
Unfortunately some of those eyes
belonged to loggers and developers, and it didn't take long
for Tahoe's shores to be changed forever. It wasn't until
the late 1960s that a planning authority was formed to
regulate development. Despite the building boom, though,
most of the shore still has a sylvan, secluded feel to it.
We continued south along the shore, driving right through Cave Rock--a natural tunnel that was once the neck of a volcano--and into the town of Stateline. Casinos and towering hotels immediately ripped away any illusion that we had left civilization behind. The casinos, in fact, were built right up against the Nevada/California state line, beyond which gambling was illegal. Road construction slowed us to a crawl for several miles, but once we turned onto Highway 89, we were back in business.
The twisting, two-lane road carried us gradually uphill
until we were high above the lake. To our right 
sat the vast
expanse of Tahoe, as blue as the sky. To our left lay the
much smaller Cascade Lake. Between the two cut our road, a
narrow strip of asphalt with no guard rails--just steep
hills plunging down on both sides. Despite the danger, it
was impossible not to look out at the lakes as I drove, awed
by the scenic splendor unfolding before me.
After a series of sharp switchbacks we arrived at the parking lot for Inspiration Point. Before us opened up a breathtaking view of Emerald Bay, a fjord-like inlet that's often called the most picturesque spot on the lake. A tour boat, its faux paddle wheel churning, circled tiny Fanette Island, the only island in the lake. We could just make out the stone tea house built there in 1929 by Lora Josephine Knight. Ms. Knight had also built the impressive Vikingsholm castle, visible at the edge of the bay. This 38-room estate was modeled after a 1,200-year-old Viking castle.
Eager to visit the castle, we continued our drive around Emerald Bay, stopping at another lot where a trail led 1.5 miles down to the structure. Vikingsholm had been built without disturbing any of the existing trees. As a result, thick pines grew right up against the stone structure, as well as in its courtyard. Flowers sprouted from the sod on its sloped roof. It seemed to be one with the surrounding forest, a quiet, peaceful retreat.
We walked alongside the lake, then followed a trail into the woods, where it soon led to a set of stone steps. At the top we discovered a wooden bridge spanning a rushing mountain stream. Just a few feet away a waterfall crashed its way down the rocks. We gazed at the bucolic scene for a while, then steeled ourselves for the long climb back to the parking lot.
To get an overall perspective of the lake, we decided to take a ride on the Heavenly Aerial Tram. In winter, Heavenly is one of the most popular ski resorts at Tahoe. (Its slopes, unfortunately, proved deadly for Sonny Bono, who collided with a tree there the following winter.) Paying $11 each, we stepped aboard a waiting car. Seconds later the ground dropped out from under us as we rose quickly and smoothly up Monument Peak.
At the top we eluded the temptations of Monument Peak Restaurant and headed for the woods, where the Tahoe Vista Trail promised excellent views. Unfortunately, the reflection of the late afternoon sun on the lake created such a glare that we had trouble looking at the water for very long. Undaunted, we hiked on, walking between granite boulders and thick California Red Fir trees. Stellar Jays, with their deep blue feathers and crested heads, squawked out their loud greetings as we passed.
The trail offered several rocky viewpoints, allowing us to look (squint, actually) out at Tahoe, more than 2,000 feet below. This was the same view--from almost the same spot--that Christopher "Kit" Carson and John C. Fremont enjoyed back in 1844 when they became the first non-natives to see the lake.
After two-thirds of a mile, the trail became indistinct as it mounted a steep, boulder-covered hill toward its terminus at Fremont Camp, 9,000 feet high. Faced with waning sunlight, we opted to forego the climb and retrace our steps.
For avid
hikers, Tahoe offers numerous trails. The crown jewel is the
nearly completed 150-mile Tahoe Rim Trail, which encircles
the lake. It can be accessed at several points, including
Spooner Summit (U.S. 50) and Tahoe City.
Back at the tram, as evening approached, we sat on a boulder and watched the sun sink slowly behind the mountains, coating the sky with a gentle orange glow that seemed to radiate from the tops of the mountains. The awesome sight made the previous few hours of squinting all worthwhile.
We paid for this beauty by having to make the winding, hour-long drive to our hotel in pitch darkness. We checked into the Tahoe Biltmore in Crystal Bay, a combination casino and hotel/motel. At $29 a night the price was right. After a late dinner in the restaurant, and a walk through the buzzing, bustling casino, we crashed.
The morning dawned cool and clear. After enjoying the hotel's complimentary breakfast, we headed for the beach, passing through opulent Incline Village on the way for a peek at the mansions and manicured lawns within.
As one would expect, Tahoe boasts many beautiful beaches. (It's even got nude beaches for the more daring. We were not so bold.) Sand Harbor was listed as one of the finest, so we headed there.
The beach was very narrow; perhaps only about 50 feet separated the water from the tree line. The sand was not as fine as ocean sand either. Its grains were much larger and rougher on one's feet.
But the water was so tantalizingly blue, so crystal clear, and the sight of sailboats slowly crossing the lake, with snow-capped peaks rising behind them, was so spectacular, that none of this mattered.
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A sailboat crosses the sparkling waters of Lake Tahoe at Nevada Beach, as majestic snow-capped mountains rise in the background. |
We lay down for a while in the sand, covering ourselves with sun block to keep the sun--much stronger at this high altitude--from roasting us and ruining our trip. After a while I began to contemplate the cold water. I watched a trio of children floating around on rafts, while a pair of teenage girls, arms folded tightly, stood knee-deep, daring each other to venture farther. Collecting my courage I stepped into the icy lake. |
Cold. Real cold! I quickly jumped back out, my feet throbbing from the shock.
A minute later I tried again, inching in till the water was at my waist. Then I plunged in, suppressing a gasp as my head went under. Now I was awake!
Once I got used to the temperature I began to swim around, marveling that I was able to swim while looking at snow-capped peaks. Opening my eyes under water, I studied the sandy bottom 10 feet or more down. No, this was certainly not the New Jersey shore.
After about five minutes of swimming I began to feel dizzy, so I hurried out. Since Tahoe's average surface temperature is only about 60 degrees, hypothermia is a very real threat for anyone who overdoes it.
By 1:00, the surface had gone from calm to very choppy. There were even waves, threatening to topple the kids on rafts. We had more activities on our agenda, so we packed up and headed south to Zephyr Cove. It was time to saddle up.
More than a half dozen ranches in the Tahoe area rent horses to riders of various skill levels. Since my skills were nonexistent, we opted for a one-hour guided ride at Zephyr Cove Stables. We were the only two in the 2:00 group. The ranch hands set me up with a 21-year-old nag named Cowgirl who had reportedly been ridden by Michael Landon Jr. in the 1993 TV film Bonanza: The Return. I straddled the beast like a pro, and a minute later followed the other two out of the corral. Not content to sit passively back, I gave a tug on the reigns to urge my horse on. Wrong move. A few tugs later she was walking backwards and I was turning crimson. A cowboy I was not.
Once this humiliation had passed and my damaged ego had
healed a bit, we followed our guide, Wayne Dickey, down a
well-worn trail into the woods. Our horses kicked up clouds
of dust as they carried us past streams and around boulders
and pine trees. Wayne, his
white handlebar moustache hiding his expression, stopped us
every so often to supply us with an anecdote in his dry,
friendly fashion.
We wound our way slowly up the side of the mountain, stopping in a clearing to enjoy terrific views of the wide, blue lake and the majestic mountains beyond. Wayne snapped pictures for us so we could prove we were there, and then we started downhill, bouncing slowly along and enjoying the warm, sunny afternoon.
After our ride, we stopped at Zephyr Cove to check out the marina. This was the docking place of the M.S. Dixie II, one of the tourist boats that carried visitors across the lake daily. The marina also rented out power boats, pedal boats, canoes and kayaks. We looked into renting a canoe, but the water was too choppy.
Instead we decided to complete our drive around the lake. Rounding the southern end, we headed north, past Emerald Bay and on to D.L. Bliss State Park. We took a quick drive through the wooded park, winding past numerous campsites on a narrow road, until finally ending up at a beach. From here one can hike the Rubicon Trail to Emerald Bay, three miles distant.
Though the drive around Tahoe was pleasant, it did not yield continuous views of the lake. Most of the time we were in the woods, passing cabins and small towns.
|
We reached Tahoe City and stopped to walk across the famed Fanny Bridge. It was humorously named for that part of the anatomy that's most visible when people bend to peer into the Truckee River, hoping for a glimpse of the giant rainbow trout that swim there. |
We stopped for a steak dinner at the unpretentious Family Tree Restaurant, paying just $11.00 each for a full meal. When we emerged the sun had set, and in its place the full moon hung just above the mountains, its bright glow reflecting off the surface of the lake, a long, shimmering line of pale light.
Mountain Biking Paradise
The next day we agreed on a split agenda. Dropping Felicia off at Nevada Beach, I headed into South Lake Tahoe to rent a mountain bike at one of the many rental shops. Tahoe boasted dozens of off-road opportunities and I was determined to try at least one of them. The guys at Don Cheapo's hooked me up with a bike and pointed me toward the Powerline Trail, which started right at the end of Ski Run Boulevard, near Heavenly.
The trail was excellent, carrying me up and down small hills while zig zagging around pine trees and huge boulders. I crested one hill, panting like a dog, and was rewarded with a spectacular view of the lake. Dashing downhill again I came upon a rushing mountain stream where I stopped to splash my face before crossing it on a wooden bridge.
The sandy soil, with its pines and low shrubs, reminded me of the New Jersey Pine Barrens--with hills. I rode for several hours, following the trail deeper and deeper into the woods, and seeing only one person the entire time.
I eventually came upon a road and followed it back to the lake. There, a paved bike trail brought me alongside the shore, past marinas and beaches teaming with people. I lingered a while, enjoying the view and the warm sun, before reclaiming my car and driving back to Felicia at Nevada Beach.
We discussed renting her a bike and trying out the paved bike trails, but once I took off my shoes and relaxed on the beach, there was no getting back up. I leaned against a tall pine tree and gazed out at the blue water, snowy peaks standing guard on the other side. I could never tire of the scene--nor, I realized, of Tahoe itself. Skiing may be its claim to fame, but Tahoe is certainly a paradise of summer fun, as well.
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