I had planned to turn in early the night before but an unexpected text from an old friend had me throwing darts until after my bedtime. I won 5 games to 2 so at least I had that going for me. I still woke up in time for work and after taking care of some business & a bit of final packing I head to the airport. The IAH parking was a shitshow as normal but I was able to find a spot and zip through security with about 30 minutes to spare. I boarded a relatively empty flight to Denver, where my 1.5 hour layover stretched to 2.5 hours due to United having to change crews. No matter, I watched the second half of Tottenham’s 2-2 draw to Everton at a cantina while enjoying a Dos Equis Amber and a grilled beef taco salad.
My flight from Denver to Reno was a little fuller, and I exchanged my aisle seat with a dad and a toddler so they could sit next to mom & big bro across the aisle. My magnanimity knows no bounds. The move paid off, however, because I was able to get a few winks on the flight but more importantly I got my first breathtaking views of Lake Tahoe. It is an absolutely magnificent wonder of geology. From the vantage point of the plane I could see how high above the desert floor the basin of water stood, a seeming Sword of Damocles over the city of Reno.
The sight of a barren desert landscape severed by majestic snow capped mountains is indescribable. It truly needs to be seen to be fully appreciated. I had heard of Lake Tahoe’s greatness but just the first glimpse of the terrain shattered even my lofty expectations.
I deplane and make my way to baggage claim. As I walk up I see my boot bag emerge from the depths of the Reno airport catacombs and I am ridin high. I call my cousin Randy who just drove up from Vegas and he’s 2 minutes away; everything is comin up Andy. I haven’t left the airport and this trip is going great.
I walk out to the curb and I see Randy’s silver Ford Focus pull up and I throw my shit into the back and we’re on our way. We work our way out of the airport and he asks if it’s cool if we take the scenic route. It’s about 10 minutes longer but it could be an hour longer and I’d vote scenic route 10 times out of 10 based on what I saw from that plane.
Tahoe Time
We venture for about 5 miles before turning off onto the Mt Rose highway. It only takes a few minutes to realize that it was a good idea to trust Randy on the scenic route. We work our way up the mountain and with every switchback we get a better view of the landscape. Randy regales me of riding down these windy mountain roads on his mountain bike to go buy a car when he first moved here in 1991 at the ripe old age of 22 (He took a Greyhound bus with \$69 in his pocket after graduating college because it looked like a cool place to live on a map. He stayed for 9 years. Randy is pretty kickass). I asked Randy what he would have done if he didn’t find a car to buy and had to ride back up that huge ass mountain. He said he thought he had already called and worked something out but his face said he hadn’t even considered that. In any case, it’s a hell of a road to take a mountain bike down.
We get closer to the top of the ridge and as we crest it we come upon the lake.
And it is absolutely stunning.
The first person who clambered over these rocks to see this body of water must have thought they were in heaven. I could barely believe I had not departed my mortal coil. As we descend down into the basin, Randy tells me about options for dinner. Do we want to go to Rookies down in so and so town or over to the casinos the other way and eat there? I don’t care, I could eat a shit sandwich and still be in a good mood. Randy decides we’ll do Rookies because the food is great, then we’ll hit the casinos after. We come to a roundabout and Randy apparently makes a wrong turn because very shortly thereafter we arrive at the casinos. Guess we’re not doing Rookies, but honestly I don’t give a damn.
We pop into the Tahoe Biltmore, which by the looks of it hasn’t been updated since the 1960s. It feels like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin might spill out of the front door in a billow of smoke, making some sort of racist/anti-Semitic joke to Sammy Davis Jr. We walk into the casino while trying not to touch anything and discover that the restaurant isn’t open. Oh well, there are 3 other decrepit casinos within a stones throw, certainly we’ll find a good meal. Right?
We walk across to the Crystal Bay Casino. This place is a bit livelier, but really the bar could not be lower. I see a poster for some upcoming concerts and notice the California Honeydrops on the lineup. I’m not positive but I’m pretty sure they’re the group that plays some funky ass shit that I really like. But based on the venue I assume they are some weird old guys playing songs from the 60s for old ladies named Ethel.
We make our way to the bar and I sit down and remove my Buffalo Bills mask. I quickly get reprimanded to return the cloth mask to my bearded face because they don’t abide by the seemingly universal rule that you can remove your mask while you’re sitting down inside. I order a Deschutes Fresh Haze IPA and settle into the realization that this trip is actually happening. Here I am in a casino 200 feet east of the California-Nevada suckin down some suds getting ready to explore Lake Tahoe. I couldn’t be happier.
I take a sip of the delicious ale and in an act of unintentional scofflawery I neglect to re-don my mask. I assume that I can surely ditch the mask while I have a beer in front of me right?
Nope.
I am reprimanded again by the barmaid. Masks can only be drooped down below the chin during sips of beer & immediately replaced. I am not looking forward to the regulations once we make it to the California side of the lake.
After consoling myself from suffering this most minor of inconveniences I receive my order of farmhouse sliders. As I take my first bite of a shockingly delicious tiny hamburger I hear the recognizable funky twang of guitar strings and horns. I look up and see a 7 piece band on the stage starting their sound check. It’s the California Honeydrops. The California Honeydrops who I have listened to many times before and love. I love them so much to not have any idea what any of them ook like.
In any case Randy and I sat there enjoying our vittles out of cardboard boxes (Covid thing? Does the virus not like cardboard boxes?) while listening to some outstanding music for free. It was marvelous. I was again in awe at my luck. Did I mention luck? Were in a casino for chrissakes, let’s go turn all this good luck into some cold hard cash.
I pull out a few bills from the ATM and head to the craps table. Randy ventures over to play some blackjack and I wish him luck. I wait for the current shooter to end his turn and buy in with \$100. Right as I get my chips I see Randy plop down in a chair behind me. What the hell? Did you already lose all your money? No sir, he won 3 straight hands then his dealer left and he didn’t like the vibe. Good man.
Anyhow, I get my chips and set \$10 on the pass line. I make up enough money on 6s and 8s that I end up back about even by the time he craps out. Next shooter. He sets the point at 4 and first roll craps out. My roll. I set the point at 6 and after about 4 non-consequential rolls crap out myself. \$75 down in the span of 5 minutes. Ouch.
I decide to cut my losses & we head to the cashier and back to the car. We are on the road once again. A few minutes later I get a text message from the Pepper Tree Inn, our world famous (not true) accommodation. They would like to know what time I will be checking in as the lobby will be closing in 30 minutes. I somewhat frantically ask Randy how far we are from the hotel and he calmly responds 10 minutes. I text the hotel back (wait how did I get into a text conversation with my hotel in the first place?) that we will be there shortly.
A few minutes later we pull into the Pepper Tree Inn, a ramshackle motel in the heart of Tahoe City that looks like it was built by skiers for skiers. I walk into the lobby and the gentleman behind the counter cheerfully inquires “Andrew?” He gives me the hotel lecture, except this one isn’t the normal Hilton or Marriott corporate bullshit, it’s a lot more personal. It’s slightly endearing. I like the Pepper Tree.
The gentleman behind the counter assigns us room 104, to which I instinctively respond “Teeeeeen-four.” The blank stare indicated that he doesn’t have a CB radio. Probably a Millenial. We wander down to room 104 and discover that it is both the room number and the number of square feet in the room. There are two full size beds but not much room for activities. The chair for the desk I’m currently sitting at backs up to one of the beds and blocks the ingress/egress to the bathroom. But who gives a shit, we’re here to ski.
We decide to head across the street to Jake’s by the Lake for a nightcap. I order a FiftyFifty California Pale Ale and Randy begins a story about traveling to Australia. After regaling me of his travels along the Gold Coast I begin telling him about my Australia trip. After a preamble about how I spent a lot of time on the west coast because cousin Brad’s got married in Perth, Randy couldn’t take it anymore and interrupts me with a deadpan “yeah, I know. I was there.” At that moment a rush of blurry memories of Brad’s wedding wash over me; one sided conversations talking at Randy being the main theme. A simultaneous tsunami of embarrassment soon follows.
Yeah…… Yeah……… Yeah………. Randy you were there. That’s on me.
After scooping up what was left of my self respect off the barroom floor, we walk out on the deck overlooking the lake. I can see the lights of South Lake Tahoe and a couple of boats still floating at the marina that haven’t been extricated from the lake for winter. I finish my ale and Randy and I walk down the shore a bit. We find a pier that’s not locked and walk out to take in the moment. I discover what the fresh mountain lake air can do for a man’s health. We stand on the pier a few minutes in silence, taking in the dazzling quilt of stars overhead. Tahoe is a special place.
We head back to the hotel and I’m wiped out. Time to hit the sack. Tomorrow we ski.