Great Ski Race - 2007

We headed to the Sierras this weekend again. It was the same old stuff.

There were views spilling so much beauty that you couldn't be certain they weren't imagined - like the full moon over Lake Tahoe (a photo cannot capture the surreal, it can only serve as a reminder of the apparition):



Of course, there was skiing. The conditions were as we've come to expect them to be in California, perfect:



There was the sound of snow. Do you hear that? That sound with it's crunching and swishing is the tune of joy unleashed:



There was also a meal in a restaurant like no other. I mean the restaurant, not the food, was like no other. I'd say it's decor invoked the feeling of a failed yard sale, and the cook, well, she probably hadn't set foot under a stream of running water since her gray mullet was brown. Yup. This joint was one rat turd shy of being condemned. Scary!



To top off the weekend, there was a ski race, The Great Ski Race. The 30 kilometers (18+ miles) of pain and thrills on cross-country skis from the Tahoe Basin to Truckee was the primary reason for our trip, and our racer didn't disappoint. I think he was thoroughly pained and thrilled. He made us proud: