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Summer with a touch of winter |
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Written by Alex Close/Tahoe World
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Thursday, 25 May 2006 |
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In an attempt to take advantage of Lake Tahoe’s springtime advantages, I decided to use my Sunday morning to ski at Alpine on their last day of the season, and then use the afternoon to sail out on Tahoe.
There’s just something about being able to snow ski and go boating all in the same day, maybe that’s why people get addicted to this place like a hobo to Wild Turkey.
So, as early as I could muster on a Sunday morning, I drug myself to Alpine.
The snow was slushy and sticky at the bottom, and I wouldn’t say there were rocks poking through the dirty snow, but more cliff outcroppings exposed after spending the winter under a thick blanket of snow.
Large crevasses opened up beneath many rocks, cornices were split like canyons and everywhere were branches bark and dirt, fallen months ago and trapped, frozen in unexposed layers of snowpack.
Despite looming dark clouds, making the sky above the Sierra look more like the Pacific Northwest than one of America’s top spring skiing destinations, it was a great last day of operations. Some crazy costumes fluttered down the slopes, shredders pulled 360s off of cornices and telemarkers tore up narrow chutes between granite outcroppings.
After a couple of runs, I got in the zone and didn’t want the season to end. Many locals say they live here because of the winters, and when winter ends, we all look forward to sunny warm weather, but we also all look forward to that snow falling again and those glorious days filled with fluffy powder turns.
After a positive last run, dropping a boulder and clearing a crevasse, hitting some moguls and rocketing down the homestretch, I was ready to call it a season.
Might as well end on a good note.
My attempt to couple sailing with skiing, however, did not pan out.
With the dark clouds above what now looked like “Big Gray,” turning to an angry blackish color, it seemed mother nature was thwarting my plans.
I was determined, clouds didn’t bother me.
But when it started raining, plans changed.
My motorcycle, sitting upside down in my garage with half the transmission out of it, begged to be put back together.
As the rainwater poured off our tin roof, splashing into quickly formed puddles in the dirt, mechanical repairs in a dry garage suddenly seemed more worthwhile, and fun, than sailing in a tempest of mountain weather.
So now, with my bike back in working order, and the weather predicted to clear, a new and even more exotic day of play presents itself.
Riding my motorcycle, with skis strapped to my back, to Squaw (which is open until the 29th) for a morning of skiing and then back to the boat for an afternoon of sailing.
Summer with a touch of winter...
I guess it’s true what they say. Life’s a bummer.
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 25 May 2006 )
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