Victory Monday never gets old. AFC East Champion Buffalo Bills has a nice ring to it doesn't it? James & I gather our things and head down the road a piece to a juicery to give our bodies some nutrients they've surely been missing.
We snag a green juice with the gusto of a Santa Monica divorcée and head to the nightmare that is LAX. It's a quick drive and the airport is much less of a zoo than normal. For that I will not complain. We're here to scoop up two of James's friends - Casey, a fellow skiier, and Nick, a snowboarder. Seeing as I've packed for 2 months of road trippin' the space in the wagon is limited. We spend about 15 minutes in the passenger pickup lane packing, repacking, jostling, rejostling, until we finally load up the clown car to the brim. I'm amazed that we didn't get yelled at by a rent-a-cop to keep moving.
Mammoth
Next stop: Mammoth Lakes, CA, about 5 hours due North, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
The traffic leaving LA is surprisingly light and soon enough we're on highway 395 flanking the Southern foothills of the Sierras. The mountains begin to rise to our left, exposing dramatic peaks of light granite dotted with sagebrush, yuccas, and cacti. It feels like an alien world, a sci-fi landscape just a couple hours from the beaches of Santa Monica.
Soon we begin to understand the etymological origin of the name Sierra Nevada, i.e. "Snowy Mountains." In this area, wet air from the Pacific rises up the mountains to our left, covering them in snow due to an effect called orographic lift. The resultant rain shadow leaves the mountains to our right high & dry, a stark climatic contrast. The peaks continue to rise higher until we reach the ultimate geographic contrast - Mount Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous US at 14,505' lies just to our West; Death Valley, the lowest point in the US lies just to our East. The highest point & lowest points in the US separated by 80 miles.
We watch the sun set over the Sierras before passing through the quaint mountain town of Bishop and heading west up into them hills. 45 minutes of winding roads and increasing elevation signs lead us to Mammoth Lakes, CA. Our condo is a 3 bedroom chalet with a fireplace and community hot tub, just a short walk from the village gondola to whisk us right up to the mountain. After unpacking the rig we clean up for supper, heading down to Mammoth Brewing Company for a few pitchers of suds and hearty vittles. From there it's back to the pad for some shuteye before day 1 of skiing.
We Came We Saw We Skied
Tuesday morning comes and we're ready to send. I strap on the planks and hit my first chair of the trip up the Canyon Express. The mountain receives 300 days of sunshine and today is no exception. I sit my ass back and enjoy the big blue California sky.
The Sierras received record snowfall in December so we've got great coverage. Unfortunately the warm daytime conditions, coupled with freezing temps at night have caused the snow to get a bit crusty. It's not terrible but not the soft feel of fresh powder. I really can't complain, though, the weather is about as perfect as you could expect, lower 40s and sunny. We head up to Chair 23, where we rip up the Cornice Bowl and Scotty's for most of the morning. From here we head to the gondola, riding Dave's Run and exploring part of the East side.
During one of our gondola runs we run into a fella who's only wearing ski boots and a banana hammock. He tells everyone within earshot that he's a retired scuba instructor and wore a speedo every day so why stop now. Whatever you say superchief.
We stop for a late lunch at the Outpost on the backside where I scarf down an enormous grilled cheese with a Mammoth Brewing Epic IPA that really hits the spot. After lunch we make our way back around the front side, headed for the Canyon Lodge where we can take the village gondola back to the condo. Most of the chairs we took today were on the upper mountain, so they didn't have gates to check lift tickets. On our way back to the lodge, however, my pass just won't work. We let the lifties know, who open the gates for me and mention that they've been having issues with Ikon passes. They tell me to check with the ticket office when I get back to the lodge.
We eventually make it back to the lodge, pleading my case with some cheery and one surly lift attendant. I venture over to the ticket office to get to the bottom of my lift pass woes. I hand my pass over to the young lady behind the ticket counter and she immediately recognizes what the problem is.
"Oh yeah, this is a pass for last season."
Mmmhmm, that would do it. To be fair I thought the pass automatically reloads on the same card like the Epic Pass. Ikon must hate the environment, creating plastic waste every ski season. Shame.
After she prints my new pass I meet the guys over at the bar. I order a June Lakes Deer Beer Brown Ale and we discuss the day's skiing. I ended up just over 16,000 vertical feet, a respectable first day on the mountain. We dump back our beverages and head to the gondie to take back to town.
In Casey's book a day of skiing is not complete until nachos have been devoured. We hear Gomez in the village may have a good offering so we stop off for a couple carafes of margaritas and a pile of nachos. They receive two ski poles up, the highest rating on Casey's prestigious nacho rating scale.
We spend the rest of the evening carousing about town, grabbing a couple pizzas, some beers, cocktails. At Lakanuki tiki bar I order a Penichillin', the only tiki drink I've ever seen with Scotch in it. It's definitely different but somehow works. Maybe more tiki drinks need Scotch in them.
Just as we're finishing our drinks my cousin Randy pulls into town. He drove up from Vegas to so we head back up to the condo to meet him. This is Randy's 6th trip up to Mammoth this season, taking his first trip after a big snow dump in October. I skied Lake Tahoe with cousin Randy last April and I'm excited to tear it up again with him. We chat for a while before hitting the sack, ready for another day on the hill.
Randy and I dart out first thing in the morning while the rest of the crew catches up on work. We head back up to Chair 23 for a few runs then a couple spins off the gondola. We meet up with the guys on the East side off the Cloud 9 lift. We head back up to the gondola since the best snow we've found was on Dave's Run.
We ski right through lunch and a little after 2 I decide to call it a day after 26,500 vertical feet. My legs are pumping from two days of hard charging and I'm ready to take these ski boots off. We head down to the lodge while Randy stays up on the mountain to continue the send. Down at the lodge I order an Anderson Valley Tropical Hazy Sour Ale while enjoying the sunshine on the patio. We talk logistics and agree to head out to some hot springs in the area. After tossing back our beers we take the village gondola back to town and throw on our trunks before piling in the car headed for the hot springs.
Geothermal Globetrotters
It's only about 15 minutes to the turnoff from the highway, where we drive another few minutes down a two lane road. The road to the first set of springs has about 3 feet of snow at the entrance that a 4x4 Jeep is unsuccessfully trying to climb. No thanks. We continue down the road to another entrance that looks much more navigable. It's snow covered but the tracks from other cars have tamped it down into a decent path. I have chains, a shovel, and a recovery strap in the event that we get stuck.
It's about a mile down the road to an area where a couple other cars are parked. After around a half mile of trudging down a snowy path we reach the springs. I can't think of any other way to describe it than a hot tub dug into the middle of a field. It's so nonsensical but it's magnificent. The hot springs are the result of sitting atop the 20 mile wide geothermal hot zone called the Long Valley Caldera. Hot water sprouts up out of the surface at various locations and people have built concrete tubs to accommodate hikers, campers, and skiers.
We pop our tarps and hop into the geothermal pool. It feels like we're in an episode of Letterkenny sitting in a hot tub in the middle of a field surrounded by snowy mountains. The relaxation is only surpassed by the surreality. I'm really glad Nick researched this or else we wouldn't be on this zany adventure. It gets a touch more adventurous when Nick somehow cuts his toe on a rock. I feel like this water is probably either extremely good or extremely bad for an open wound. Last I heard he hasn't lost the toe so we'll say it's the former.
We dry off and make our way back to the car. I breathe a minor sigh of relief when we get back to the paved road. On the way back to to town we decide on Shelter Distilling for supper, a small batch distillery & brewpub right in the town village. I order a Smokey the Pear, a cocktail with peated whiskey, pear, and bitters that perfectly blends the smokiness of the whiskey with a hint of sweetness. I also order a sweet potato taco and a pork belly taco that might be the best taco I've ever tasted.
There's a fella playing live music who makes the executive decision to only play 90's bangers. He's crushing it and everyone in the bar is 100% on board. For a couple different songs he allows drunk girl volunteers to sing with him. James buys a bottle of whiskey to take home but we break into it when he continues playing songs that make us stay. We "ok 1 more song"d about 5 times.
We finally sneak off and head back up to the condo. Everyone is pretty wiped so we hit the sack pretty soon. Our plan tomorrow is to leave first thing in the morning for Lake Tahoe.
Tahoe Time
Fortunately we have the extra cargo space provided by Randy's Ford Focus for the 180 mile drive North. Unfortunately we haphazardly huck everything in the back so while we're not as cramped as the first leg of the journey, nobody would consider it roomy.
The drive is just as scenic as the trip to Mammoth, skirting the eastern foothills of Yosemite, watching the mountains glint off the calm waters of Mono Lake, wondering what tough sonofabitch they named the Stanislaus National Forest after.
I'm running low on fuel so we stop at the Valero in Bridgeport to fill up my steed's oat bag. On the way out of the gas station my car stalls out.
Hmmm that's peculiar...
I give it another go and same thing.
Well that ain't good... Maybe third time's a charm?
This time the fussy ol gal starts right up. Praise be! I do a couple laps around the parking lot and everything seems to be running fine. We decide to give it a go and try to limp to the Autozone in Gardnerville, where we can diagnose the problem.
She makes the trip just fine - runs great while driving, just idles a little funny. They run a diagnostic check and it shows a problem with the fuel injector sensor. Autozone John says it's a common issue they see from cars coming from altitude, where the car's computer takes a while to adjust to the change in elevation. He recommends some Chevron Techron fuel injector cleaner and filling up with premium the next few tanks. Good enough for me.
We thank him for his advice and pull out of town, just over an hour left to Palisades Tahoe, formerly known, and still commonly referred to by locals, as Squaw Valley. It's the largest ski area in the Lake Tahoe area and the most well known due to hosting the 1960 Winter Olympics. It's been the home mountain of innumerable world class skiers and daredevils, who affectionately refer to it as "Squallywood." I had a blast skiing here last April & this time we'll have much more snow so you could say I'm eager to hit the slopes.
We pull into the parking lot and strap on the gear. From here it's a short hike up to the funitel, a gondola-like conveyance with two cables instead of one. The two cables provide more stability than a standard gondola so it can be run on supremely windy days. It's the only funitel in the US and even with the two cables it's still swaying pretty mightily. We reach the top and are greeted by the disheartening sight of the Emigrant & Granite Chief chairs sitting idly. Both of these lifts access some great terrain at the top of the hill but the wind has them on hold. Bummer.
Thankfully, though, the Siberia Express chair is spinning so we take a few laps there. The snow is not great, not terrible so we decide to kick over to KT-22 and see how she's riding. This part of the mountain is famous in skiing communities the world over, considered by many to be the best lift in North America. It accesses 1,800 vertical feet of challenging terrain with iconic runs such as Eagle's Nest, Chute 75, and The Fingers. On a powder day locals line up at 5 AM for the 9 AM lift to get first tracks down the mountain.
We choose to eschew the most extreme terrain, riding down Red Dog ridge to the Womens Downhill run, so called because it was the site of that competition during the 1960 Olympics. It's a familiar run to me - Randy and I skied it quite a few times last April. It's challenging but manageable and we decide to give it another whirl. The next time down James, Casey, & Nick decide to call it a day and I make one more easy run down the Saddle with Randy.
Back at the bottom, I meet the fellas for some après on the patio at KT-22 Base Bar. I order a Numb Numb Juice Hazy IPA from Fall River Brewing and kick up my feet in the sun. Another solid day on the mountain.
After we finish our round we head over to Le Chamois, a favorite watering hole among locals that Nick recommends. It's littered with skiing memorabilia and old photos of legends of the mountain. The space above the bar is decorated with hundreds of old skis. We order a round of brewskis and a pizza to tide us over till dinner. Randy points out the tram chutes where certified adrenaline junkies attempt to cheat death. They aren't even labeled on the trail map as a skiable run. It looks insane.
We finish up at Le Chamois and hit another local tavern called the Slot Bar. We walk in and I immediately fall in love. It's a narrow hole-in-the wall joint where everyone sitting at the bar seems to know each other. A place where you can get a pint of Montucky Cold Snacks for \$3, a far cry from the \$11 beers on the mountain. So we do just that. One of the guys working notices the Bills toques that James and I are wearing and hits us with a Go Bills. He grew up in Buffalo and we discuss the upcoming playoff matchup with the Patriots. We chat for a while and dump down our beers before heading for the car.
Our accomodation is about 20 minutes away, just on the other side of Tahoe City. We get the cars unloaded and head straight for the hot tub. There's something magical about sitting in a hot tub on a snowy deck after a day of skiing. After the soak we get cleaned up and head to Jake's on the Lake for supper and call it an early night. It's been a big few days, one more day of skiing left.
Troubs
I wake up the next morning with a nervous excitement. Tickets for the Turnpike Troubadours reunion shows at Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa go on sale today. The Troubs broke up in the spring of 2019 when lead singer and professional wildman Evan Felker really went off the rails. Since then he has gotten his life together and seems to be in a good place. This will be the first time they'll be playing at the corner of Easton & Main in over 3 years. Cain's has a capacity of 1,800 and the entire state of Oklahoma will be trying to get tickets. Suffice to say it will be a hot ticket.
I log in to my computer and get the eTix website loaded & ready for the 8 AM opening of ticket sales. The clock strikes 8 aaaaaaand the website promptly crashes. I receive similar reports from my brothers & friends who are also trying to snag some tickets. I know the site is probably seeing a big surge in demand but they had to know it was coming. Your one job is selling tickets, how do you fail so completely at this one task. eTix, you are the absolute worst.
I keep trying for the next hour reloading, refreshing, cursing. Eventually the site says the events are sold out. Sunofabitch. I don't know what the best method for allotting so few tickets to so many people but this certainly ain't it. I suggest giving folks with all the Troubs albums on vinyl the first crack at it but thats just me. So Friday is definitely starting off poorly. At least we still have skiing.
Back to the Hill
We get geared up and stop at the Dam Cafe, a cozy breakfast spot right next to the Lake Tahoe Dam. I order a breakfast sando and coffee from the excessively nice woman behind the counter and wander over to the dam while they whip it up.
I learn that the dam was built in the early 1900's to help control water levels for irrigation. It outflows to the Truckee River, the sole outlet of Lake Tahoe. The river, and the nearby town of Truckee, are named after a Paiute chief who guided an emigrant party up the river in 1844. The settlers were so thankful for his services that they named the river after him.
After scarfing down breakfast we make our way to the mountain. We decide to hit up Alpine Meadows first, the sister mountain to Squaw. We make our way up and over to the backside to the Sherwood area of the mountain. This side gets the most direct sun exposure so should be our best chance at soft snow. We head down Sherwood Run, a nice easy groomer with decent snow. Next run we head over to the South Face, a wide open snowfield that looks like it would rip in good conditions. It's still a bit icy but we make it down before hitting a few more groomers.
From here it's back to the South Face, which has softened up a bit. We lap it a few times before deciding to head back over to Squaw. The snow is a touch better over here than it was at Squaw but we see that the Tram is running & we want to take a ride up that while we're here. Back down to the village where we load up the gear for the short drive to Squaw.
From the parking lot we can see Red Dog Ridge, the traverse we rode yesterday off KT-22. Just to the left runs a line of chair lift towers down the mountain through the parking lot we're standing in. These towers will form the Squaw Valley - Alpine Meadows base to base gondola, which will transport skiers between the two resorts in about 15 minutes. It sounds like a sweet deal at face value, but once you talk to the locals you realize that it's more of a marketing gimmick than anything. For the amount of money the resort is spending building this gondola, most skiers would prefer upgrading the Granite Chief and Red Dog chairs to high speed lifts.
Seeing as the gondola has yet to be completed, we hop in the car for the 15 minute drive over to Squaw. We hoof it up to the tram loading building and just miss the outbound tram. It's about a 20 minute wait for the next tram, where we pile into the massive car, only reaching about half of its 120 person capacity. On our way up the 2,000 vertical feet of elevation we ogle the tram chutes that we saw yesterday from Le Chamois. Somehow they look even more insane from this angle.
We arrive at High Camp, a mountaintop installation that was built for the 1960 Olympics to woo the International Olympic Committee. At the time of its construction, it boasted a swimming pool, ice rink, tennis courts, roller disco, and restaurants, all at 8,200' elevation. Some of the facilities (see: roller disco) have not survived, but the pool still draws guests during the summer months.
We snap a few photos before clicking in. Emigrant, Siberia, & Granite Chief are all down due to a wind hold so our best bet on this side of the mountain is the Headwall chair. We ride it up and Randy, Nick, and I decide to hit the Sun Bowl - it's been in the sun all day (hence the name) and should be nice & soft for us. James & Casey head around the other side to the Chicken Bowl. Our party of three quickly learn that "should be nice & soft" and "are nice & soft" are two very, very different things. It's hard. It's chunky. It's icy. It's easily the worst run we've had all trip. I feel bad for Nick because as bad as this is on skis it's certainly worse on a snowboard. To add insult to injury I ski over a few rocks along the way, surely putting a gash in my brand new Völkls. Big oof.
We eventually make it back to Headwall, vowing to never speak the name Sun Bowl ever again. On the way up I check my phone and see that James texted the group that he & Casey are going to hit Sun Bowl.
I text them to avoid it like the plague but my missive arrives too late. They experience the knee shattering and rock grinding misery as the rest of us. Well at least we all have a shared traumatic experience.
Once we reach the top we ride around the Cornice II ridge to Horse Trails, which has so much good snow we end up doing it again. From here we take a few rides down the Saddle off KT-22 before I call it a day. Randy decides to hit a few more runs & will meet us later.
Lake Tahoe Friday Nights
Just the same as yesterday, I grab a Numb Numb Juice and kick back on the deck. The beer goes down smooth and we unanimously decide to head back to our old friend Slot Bar. We are warmly greeted by Bills guy when we arrive and Nick orders a round of Mickeys. The caps have little riddles on them and as we're decoding the hieroglyphs a local named Nicole informs us that should we solve one correctly the bartender will fill our cap with a shot of fernet.
How fun!!
After a few minutes of deciphering I present my solution to the bartender and he fills my cap. I can't recall ever having fernet and after shooting it I can confirm I have never guzzled this bitter, herbal, aromatic swill. It's pungent, that's for certain, and apparently San Francisco accounts for 25% of all US consumption, where it is typically served with a ginger ale chaser. Who knew.
We stay for a few more rounds of Mickeys and Nicole invites us to Gar Woods Grill & Pier, a restaurant/bar that will be hosting a big party of locals tonight. I'll take that deal, damn good deal. We settle up at the Slot and make our way back to the house for a quick soak.
After tubbin we get cleaned up and head over to Gar Woods. There are a couple older fellas playing music and the entire place has a party vibe. We spot Nicole at the bar with some friends about to do a shot-ski. She insists that we get a round of Wet Woodys, the signature drink of Gar Woods. We oblige and I order a round from Michael, the nicest bartender I think I've ever met.
One round turns into two, turns into three, turns into four, beers, cocktails, shot skis. An order of coconut shrimp, a couple quesadillas. Another round. More shrimp. A round of espresso martinis. And another. The decision to order multiple rounds of espresso martinis cannot be described as anything other than reckless. That's a Lake Tahoe Friday night for ya.
Each drink we order earns us a raffle ticket for a series of drawings throughout the night for various tchotchkes - tshirts, gift cards, sunglasses, I think they gave away a snowboard? The first few drawings we checked our tickets with a hawklike intensity; by the end of the night we, along with the rest of the bar, reach a level of apathy where the prize master just starts handing shit out to folks. This is fun. And the band is killing it.
At some point Nick gathers a group of revelers to jump in the lake with him. I decline the invitation but when he comes back and regales the tale another group overhears him and wants to do it. So Nick goes back out there again. Heroic.
I'm not really sure how it happens but peel ourselves away from the bar and pile in the car. Thankfully Randy isn't drinking so he's able to safely shepherd us back to the domicile. While some of us are enjoying a late night soak we hear a commotion from inside the house. It seems Casey & Nick got themselves into a little tussle. As it tends to happen on an LTFN they started wrestling, lightheartedly at first, but slowly escalating into a full-fledged eruption of alcohol and testosterone. Luckily nobody is seriously injured, just some bumps, bruises, and scrapes. And we're all a happy family again not too long afterwards.
Let's Hit the Sleds
Since it's a holiday weekend, our ski passes are blacked out on Saturday. The mountain will probably be too crowded to enjoy anyways so Casey booked us a snowmobile tour. They told us to meet at 9 AM, which means that we'll have to leave the house at 8:30.
Well...
After thorough scientific research, we determine that Lake Tahoe Friday Nights create a condition where leaving the house at 8:30 is an insurmountable task. I don't even wake up until 8:30 unpacked, unshowered, and unable to fire more than one neuron at a time. I sluggishly, shamefully, get my shit together and we're out the door by 9:15. We stop at the Dam Cafe again for pastries and coffee because we might have perished if we didn't. James calls the snowmobiling outfit and they let us know that our tour isn't scheduled for 10 AM anyways so we're good on time. Thank god. Is it possible for karma to shine on the debaucherous?
We pull into the snowmobiling area and meet our guide - a burly, gregarious fella who gives us his name but we all forget because he tells us to just call him "Coach." You got it Coach. After a short safety briefing about our 600 cc Ski-Doo sleds we fire 'em up and hit the trails. We rip up & down some trails, coming to a clearing at the top of a ridge where Coach pulls off and lets us take some photos. We have a view of a mountain peak called Tinker Knob that Coach is jazzed to tell us about.
Back on the machines and some more zipping through the trees. We get to another clearing where Coach enthusiastically tells us that we're looking out over Leland Stanford's old timber operation. He says this forest is the reason Stanford University has a tree for their mascot and their logo. He says this but it's simply not true. It's no matter though, because factual information is not the reason you want to sled with Coach. You want to sled with Coach because he'll show you the raddest gnar to bomb, rip, and shred. And tell you about bombing, ripping, and shredding the raddest gnar in the most epic un-ironic ski bum intonation you could imagine. Coach is pretty sick.
A few more trails and photo ops before we make it back to base camp. It was a 2 hour tour that absolutely flew by. Such a perfect idea to occupy our morning before heading to Sacramento.
Sac Town
That really got the juices flowing, everyone seems to be in a peppier mood than this morning. We load up and stop for a quick bite in Truckee before heading West towards Sacramento.
James, Casey, & Nick all have flights out of Sacramento tomorrow back to the East Coast and the "Real World." Randy is already well on his way back to Vegas - he left early this morning while the rest of us hooligans were fast aslep so he could make it back for the Bills game. Which reminds me, I booked a hotel within walking distance of the Sacramento Bills Backers bar. Because of course I did.
For whatever reason almost all the hotels in Sacramento were booked so I had to settle for the Quality Inn, which is an absolute dump. Now, I'm planning on spending many nights in the back of my car on this trip so I am in no place to judge any accomodation. What really grinds my gears is the rate they charged. It should be illegal. Thankfully I had some credit card travel points that I used to help lessen the blow a bit.
Whatever. It's gameday. Or night. Well it's still daytime here. But it's night in Buffalo. Who's to say.
Anyways, we get cleaned up and walk down to the University of Beer. We're about a block away when we hear a raucous cheer. Are the Bills fans already getting after it a half hour before kick? We turn the corner and find that it's also a Raiders bar. Bills fans are crazy in a cheeky & fun kind of way, Raiders fans are cruel and tragic. We can't even get in because the place is nuts to butts with supporters of the Silver & Black. We put our name on the list and watch from the street as Derek Carr blows the comeback with a 4th down INT as the clock winds down. If I've said it once I've said it 1,000 times, never bet against Joey Burrah.
We give the Raiders fans an extra wide berth as they depart seeing as they've now evolved into their most familiar form: Angry Raiders Fan. We make our way in and mingle with a Bills crowd that's substantially smaller than the Raiders contingent. But we don't mind, we're Bills fans, we pick each other up.
We find a table just before kick and strap in for the fireworks. And my word what a display of fireworks.
First drive big Josh marches down and scores a TD.
Next drive, another TD.
Third drive. TD.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
7 drives for Josh Allen and the Bills, 7 touchdowns. No punts. No FGs. No turnovers. A perfect game. Josh Allen is equal parts monster and maestro. We don't deserve Josh Allen.
The final whistle blows and I'm running on adrenaline and light beer, in desperate need of sleep. Just before the game the other fellas got an email that their flights for tomorrow were cancelled due to an impending snow storm on the East Coast. The irony is not lost on us that the first fresh snow we get all week cancels their flights. They were all able to get booked on the redeye tonight so they grab their bags from the Quality Inn before hopping in an Uber to the airport.
Hell of a ride boys. 4 ski days, 1 snowmobile day, 3 mountains, 1 hot spring, 600 road miles, beers, tequila, Scotch, espresso martinis. Those damn espresso martinis. Can't wait to do it again.
Next stop: San Francisco