Whiteout At Lake Tahoe

Friday's headline news should have tipped us off for what lay ahead

Photo: Chronica Domus

Our continuing adventures in hot pursuit of some snow fun had us finally arriving in South Lake Tahoe this past Friday.  You may recall reading about our fruitless attempt to venture there several weeks ago, and the disastrous mudslides that closed the main highways into the Sierra Nevada mountains, along with the ensuing mayhem suffered by thousands of fellow car-bound snow seekers. We gladly put those shenanigans behind us - or so we thought - in hopes of witnessing one of the deepest snowpacks in recent memory. Astonishingly, the pack is at 186% of normal which is expected to see skiers on the slopes until July's Independence Day holiday.  What a winter this has turned out to be!

On Saturday morning, after tucking into a filling breakfast at our hotel, so conveniently situated at the base of Heavenly Mountain Ski Resort, we headed outdoors to catch a ride up the mountain.

Nope, we won't be catching sight of Heavenly Mountain's summit today!

Photo: Chronica Domus

As luck would have it, today was not the day to be darkening the doors of the gondola which we had expected to take us on a scenic 2.4 mile ride up the side of the spectacular mountain. Despite the sunny conditions, a severe winter storm warning with high winds was in effect which meant only skiers were permitted on the mountain.  As not everyone in our little party would be skiing, we were advised to try our luck the following day. Ah well, it was time to implement Plan B.

Not ones to miss an opportunity for exploration, we hopped into the Volvo and away we drove in search of adventure.  Across the California-Nevada border and over mountainous terrain we went in the direction of Carson City, Nevada's capital city.  As you can see below, the desert area stands in stark contrast to Lake Tahoe's forested snow-covered landscape.  It was also a balmy forty degrees warmer.

The sight of this hunk of ice along the desert road was quite a curiosity, apparently having fallen from the roof of a passing car

Photo: Chronica Domus

After lunch, we meandered across the mountains and back towards Lake Tahoe, stopping to take in the majestic views of the lake.

Photo: Chronica Domus

 Photo: Chronica Domus

Your eyes do not deceive, this is indeed a beach of snow

Photo: Chronica Domus

By now, we could feel the beginnings of the winter storm brewing.  The howling winds were barrelling down the mountains and the sun's weakened rays had given way to gloomy skies.  The mercury had also plunged notably, and rapidly.

There was one silver lining to lessen the disappointment of not having access to the other snow activities high up on Heavenly Mountain. Our daughter Patience was overjoyed to have her up-for-anything parents join her in a spot of snow saucering.  For those of you that have no idea what this entails, all I can say is that you should A) be prepared to take your life into your own hands, B) steady yourself to look very "uncool" in the eyes of everyone but a teenager, and C) be prepared to belly laugh like a deranged lunatic all the way down a slippery snowy slope, at great speed, while sat atop a plastic saucer more often than not travelling backwards.  I must tell you, it was a very liberating experience to say nothing of the fact that my daughter's estimation of her over-the-hill parents just went up several notches.  Although photographic evidence of this gentle author whizzing down the mountain on said saucer does exist, I am opting to keep that part of our adventure private. One does, after all, have a certain image to maintain.

On Saturday evening, the first flakes of snow began to fall.

The decorative iron street grates looked enchanting with a light dusting of snow

Photo: Chronica Domus 

By Sunday morning, our motor car was buried in two feet of snow, just in time for our journey home.

Our Volvo is under there somewhere

Photo: Chronica Domus

Our timing was impeccable; the drive home was a whiteout.  It took us four hours to crawl along seven miles of connecting road because of an ominous sounding "avalanche control" exercise taking place further into the mountains, temporarily closing the highway.  Listening to the distant booming sound of explosives shattering the silence as snow continued falling was surreal.

Once the road opened, we continued our grind home at a steady ten miles per hour in twenty degree temperatures.

I just missed snapping the thermometer as it dipped to twenty degrees Fahrenheit resulting in the windshield wipers freezing up with blocks of ice

Photo: Chronica Domus

Here is the view from the front passenger seat just before the windshield wipers froze:

At this point, conditions were actually getting quite unnerving, having already slid off the road and into a ditch once, and now having to brace the bone-chilling cold to chip away frozen ice from the windshield wipers every few miles
Photo: Chronica Domus

I question our judgment when I look at this insanely beautiful but hazardous mountainous road we safely negotiated, to much relief, with the help of our ever-trusty AWD Volvo wagon  

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was several more hours before we were out of the eye of the storm.  I counted our lucky stars upon making it safely through.  It was all so worth it for the views that awaited us were dazzling.  Surely, we had entered the Land of Narnia.

 Photo: Chronica Domus

 Photo: Chronica Domus

  Photo: Chronica Domus

  I was half expecting Mr Tumnus to appear from beyond the trees

Photo: Chronica Domus

 The serenity of a snowy winter landscape is unmatched in its beauty

Photo: Chronica Domus

After viewing the world through a monochromatic lens for the entirety of our journey, it was with welcome relief that we spotted a jolt of early spring color during a brief pit stop at the small gold mining town of Placerville.

Spring meets winter with the last remnants of snow at the feet of cheery yellow daffodils

Photo: Chronica Domus

Arriving home late on Sunday evening, we were glad for the adventure we had shared.  Our long weekend was not exactly how we had imagined it to be, faffing about in the powder on top of the mountain, but on reflection, I don't think I would have changed an action-packed minute of it. I am, however, suddenly hankering for a stint on a warm tropical beach.


Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

Dashed Plans For A Weekend In The Snow

Last Friday my family and I set off for a long weekend in the snow.  It has been several years since we last faffed about in the powdery stuff because, frankly, the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada mountains has been dismal.  Not so this year!  The unrelenting series of rainstorms we've endured in the San Francisco Bay Area have buried the mountains north of us in much snow to the delight of west coast skiers everywhere.  It's turned into an epic winter thus far.

The following is the sort of image I had hoped to include in my post about our wintry escapades above Lake Tahoe.

I snapped this on our previous snowy car journey to Lake Tahoe

Photo: Chronica Domus

Unfortunately, this is more representative of our "weekend in the snow":

February's full moon, aptly named the 'Snow Moon', looked pretty enough but that bumper-to-bumper traffic headed into the mountains did not

Photo: Chronica Domus

I don't think we could have picked a worst time to head for the snow.  Escaping the city early on Friday afternoon was straightforward enough.  It was further upstream that things went downhill rapidly, and literally, in this case.

You see all that wonderful rain, to which I made reference in my last post, was beginning to take its toll on the soil.  The heavily saturated mountains approaching Lake Tahoe had finally given way to a mudslide.  So severe was the damage that Highway 50, upon which we happened to be traveling, was closed in both directions while we were underway.  Our long weekend getaway was dashed.

What would have ordinarily been a three hour drive to the snow turned into a nine hour fruitless slog. Subsequent mudslides had also shut down the lesser routes to Lake Tahoe ensuing in much chaos and thousands of vehicles going nowhere fast. Thus, our several attempts at alternate routes were also met with disappointment and a sea of break lights.

Cutting our losses, we crawled our way back south, and past a chain of "no vacancy" signs to secure a bed for the evening.  As you can imagine, we were not alone in our pursuit.  We finally managed to lay our heads down around 1 a.m., exhausted but extremely grateful to have escaped the madness.

As I write this post sat at my kitchen table on a cold but sunny Sunday afternoon, I wonder what would have happened had we made it to our destination in the snow before the mudslides.  Would we have been able to return home on time?  The answer, most assuredly, is no.  I have just checked the current highway conditions to discover that "due to multiple active mudslides" roads remain closed.

I am so glad to be home.