Only…24 hours from Tahoe

Lets make that more like 7.

We have just returned from an… interesting weekend in Tahoe. Having been frustrated with our plans to go up last weekend by the bad weather, we were pretty determined to try and get some skiing in this weekend. This was somewhat challenging, as this weekend is 3-day holiday weekend (Martin Luther King day is Monday), so most of the hotels were booked up. Nevertheless, we found a nice little cabin for rent on Friday and booked it right away. Nathan managed to get away from work at lunchtime on Friday and so we set off with plenty of time. The weather was lovely on Friday – warm and clear – and we got a fair way up the bay with only some stop-start traffic. Then it all slowed down for a while, and we crawled more or less from Berkeley to Sacramento, taking around 3 hours. After that it sped up again, and having left San Jose at about 2pm, we were at our cabin, in the snow, by 9pm.
And then we started feeling bad.
I had a headache, N started shivering so badly that he nearly shook all three covers and blankets off the bed. This was not good.
Saturday morning was blue skies, sunny and crisp. We, however, were not crisp. We were very soggy. We couldn’t even get ourselves up until lunchtime. Once we’d dragged ourselves out of bed, we took a little drive up to Heavenly, just about 3 miles from the cabin. The snow looked perfect, but neither of us were in any condition to ski. N was at least optimistic though. After lunch, we went and hired him boots and skis so that he could get on the slopes on Sunday, when he felt better. And then we went to the supermarket to buy drugs (don’t worry, nothing stronger than paracetamol) and went home again. There was some comepensation for this wasted day in the form of a private hot tub at the cabin. I definitely recommend a hot tub in the open air, in the snow as a cold remedy.
So Sunday morning, we were going to feel much better, and get some skiing in. But no. We still felt bad, if not worse. Weeping into our tissues, we returned the skis, unused, checked out and drove home.
So that is the tragic story of our weekend – 12 hours of driving, quite a lot of money on a cabin with a hot tub, thirty-odd dollars in ski hire (at least we didn’t buy ski passes in advance). And no skiing. Not a sausage.

It’ soooooo sad!

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louise-marston

I’m Louise, and I’m a compulsive baker, cookbook hoarder and a bit of a food geek. I learnt to cook at home, and later at Tante Marie’s cooking school in San Francisco. With a science degree and a background in IT analysis, I like to understand why a recipe works, not just how to do it. Why the rules are there and when they can be broken.

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