Tahoe

Tahoe is a mirage. A bubble for the rich and famous to holiday. A local ski town, akin to Wanaka. Coated in dense pine and foreign accents. Its beauty lies in its people and the Granite Sierras Mountains that encompass its crystal clear blue lake. A body of water so deep that Don Corleone used it as a personal body disposal unit.  Interestingly enough, geographically the cartographer made an error when he drew the state lines of Nevada and California. He drew the line directly down the middle of the lake from North-South, splitting Lake Tahoe in two. Due to Tahoe's own genuine nature, it's embracing both borders as it's own.

"It was really just a fluke from wanting to go somewhere on my own. The dream of living in California. SO I went anyway."

I arrived in Tahoe from Dunedin at the start of winter. Taking the greyhound bus up the Sierras from San Francisco into the high elevation. You can sense the altitude in the air. Its not cold like our winter. The air is light. The snow had come and gone in November and only piles on the side of the road and under trees show any signs. Little did I know that California was in a 7 year-long drought and Tahoe hadn't received significant snow in the corresponding years. Frankly people are in a panic but are still frothy, the Cali chill trumps any pessimism. "We'll take anything." So in rocks this Kiwi dude who has no idea what the mountains are like, I really didn't know anything about the place. Had no idea that they had been in a drought for all these years or else I may not have even listened to recommendations and not even gone. It was really just a fluke from wanting to go somewhere on my own. The dream of living in California. SO I went anyway.

"We wake up one morning to find a fresh metre of snow has fallen.  Yes please."

Come the New Year 2017, the heavens open. Snow. Seriously dumping. Bulky, damp, California concrete for three months straight. By the end of mid January locals are caught off guard. Needless to say no ones ready. Infrastructure is a mess, plows are working overtime, power is going out in the outer settlements for 4-8 days straight. Living in one of these settlements at the time called Tahoma, or 'Stay-Homa' as its commonly referred to by locals. We wake up one morning to find a fresh metre of snow has fallen. Yes please. A couple of hours go by before we even get the car exhumed. An exhausting effort, but necessary if we are gonna shred that day. However, the plow never arrives. Issues from living off the beaten track i suppose. Movie and book days became the norm around this time. First world inconveniences right? We're just here to ski?

...You would think. The problem with so much snow is that the Sierras Mountains have vast variable terrain, and the granite underneath means high avalanche danger. People die out here. The fast accumulation of snow has ski professionals on a knifes edge. Ski patrollers work there asses off up in freezing, heavy and frankly life risking conditions for the safety of staff and guests, day in and day out. Blue bird powder days go untouched. but not for long...

"Adopting a surfy element to your craft, while at the same time stomping as hard as you can off a 30 foot rock."

Skiing a pow day in Tahoe especially Squaw Valley, is like Treble Cone on cocaine. You have to completely change the way you ski. Adopting a surfy element to your craft, while at the same time stomping as hard as you can off a 30 foot rock. The trees become my passion. Being introduced early doors to local ski fields such as Homewood, opened up fresh aspect to challenge myself. Making split second decisions at ridiculous speeds. The hand in mouth moments are rewarded with pockets of powder that drop whenever a light gust catches the canopy above. Adrenaline, sleek and skill. I'm hooked.

"Locals only!" replaced with "You gunna send it dude?"

The Tahoe ski culture is a shock of electrified stoke that shoots through a crowd of die hard ski bums like a buzz. "Locals only!" replaced with "You gonna send it dude?" A far more vocal vibe than what I've found in New Zealand. Early lines on a pow day are accompanied by a box of PBR. I found it refreshing to experience the warmth of a traditionally crisp individual sport. Comparing Tahoe to Wanaka, to begin with so similar.  In no way are the mountains as dramatic, but the skiing is just as steep and the snow far more plentiful. When it comes down to it, I'll miss the people the most. To me they're the true Tahoe.