Lake Tahoe

Beautiful Lake Tahoe

Though I came to Lake Tahoe for business, it felt more like pleasure. Tahoe is a remarkably lush respite high above the Nevada deserts, 30 miles southwest of Reno and 20 miles west of Carson City. Its trees are young, less than 150 years old, because the region was logged, during the mining years. But this history takes nothing away from the magnificence of the trees, most over 100 feet tall. As for the lakeshores, they’re filled with sun worshippers drawn towards the waters, crystal blue, inviting, with calming waves, and rocks big enough to lay out and nap on. All in all, Tahoe is incredibly beautiful. It’s a bit of an anomaly— abundant with wildlife, trout, bass, chipmunks, and squirrels— compared to the deserts which are only a short drive down the mountainside. It was here, high up in Tahoe, where I aspired to conquer its mountainous terrain.


Flume Trail

Mountain Biking: Man vs. Nature
I was dropped off up the mountain trail some 13 miles away, 7,000 feet above sea level, next to Spooner Lake (a smaller lake where signs warned “full of leaches”). Along for the ride was Jason, an experienced mountain biker, a local guy, and my personal sherpa-guide. We embarked onto Flume Trail, whose name derives from the gold rush days. Back then, the loggers built wooden flumes and rushed water through them so freshly cut timbers could slide effortlessly down to Carson City. The trail was still riddled with aged wood and square nails. Nowadays, the Flume trail is a biker's haven. It was supposed to be the easiest ride starting with a “small” incline 1,000 ft. up, followed by a downhill ride that traversed to a smaller lake (Marlette Lake), and then circled around to the easternmost side of the mountain overlooking Lake Tahoe in its totality.


Tahoe Meadow

We broke into the trailhead peddling hard across the rolling meadow…the scent of pine pervaded the air, sagebrush and wild flowers of lavender, yellow, and blue dotted the mountainside. I admired the blinding white bark of poplars reflecting the blazing sun, took in the blood red sequoias dripping down to the earth, and stared upwards into the spiny pine branches rising into the blue skies. Granite rocks ranging in size of small houses to large castles took their glorious places along the trail watching me during the ascent. I stopped to crush the leaves of fresh sagebrush in my hands for a fresh scent of the wild west. I have to admit, to an urban metro like me, the great outdoors of Tahoe were quite foreign. But I can see why people easily fall in love with this place. Even I was tempted to abandon my bike, find a quiet spot, hug a tree, and sing Kumbaya.

A Humble Ascent
I guess I was naïve to think that mountain biking in Tahoe would be easy. After all, I run 3 to 4 miles a day. I soon realized it all meant nothing when you're up in thin mountain air. Soon, my “hug a tree” visions turned into a nightmarish climb up Everest. I thought I packed everything - granola bars, water, Gatorade, helmet, gloves, camera, but I guess I forgot to pack a freakin’ Oxygen tank. To cope, I began a regiment that consisted of the following: peddle until you’re about to puke, stop & gasp for air, take a drink, walk 50 paces, stop & gasp, and repeat. The vicious cycle continued for an hour until I made it to the summit at 8,000 feet exhausted and defeated.

I’m sure it looked bad when two hikers effortlessly passed me by with mocking smiles, and also when a pack of hardcore bikers trekked along in syncopated rhythm…crank, crank, crank… I was pathetic! After awhile, all these mountain bikers started to look the same, especially when all I saw were their backs as they passed me. Even my sherpa guide got tired of waiting and charged ahead, but not without leaving a few words of wisdom, “Don’t feel too bad when the girls start to pass you.” Sure enough, not five minutes later, a mountain biking girl came barreling up the mountain behind me. Dude, she was more of a man than me. She punished the mountain with a Lance Armstrong like ferocity.


Sequoia Trees

Reaching the Summit
When I finally made it to the top, the trees opened up to the heavens and there stood my sherpa-guide Jason, and the mountain bike girl. In triumph they looked at the “You are here” map, sun-bleached, and framed in scratched plexi-glass. And so with a swallow of pride, I threw my bike down, limped towards them, and complimented them for a hard ride. After brief introductions, it wasn’t long before I noticed something peculiar about mountain bike girl… she had hairy armpits! And I’m not talking about just a little bit of fuzzy pit hair. These were hairy mothers… they were like shrubs, wild, Kramer-like hair extruding everywhere. In a word: distracting. I mean hard-to-carry-on-a-conversation distracting. Even sherpa-guide Jason thought the hair was a bit unusual.

Hairy armpit girl must be from out west, I thought. She fit the stereotype. Ironically, I found out she's from Cincinnati. How whacked out is that? Turns out she's a biologist studying a certain species of chipmunk that only lives up in the Lake Tahoe region. To think she actually made a living as a tree hugger. I kind of wondered if she ate a steady diet of nuts & wild berries too. Hairy armpit girl was a seriously crunchy granola tree hugger. I totally respect that. As for me, I suddenly realized that I am just a wanna-be tree hugger. Oh well, maybe I can find myself a little bumper sticker that says, “Have you hugged a tree today?”

-Marvin A

New York City - Times Square

Marvin's Misadventures
With little anticipation and even less expectation, I present you with the first installmant of my blogs: "Marvin's Misadventures". My intent in becoming a blogger is not to bore you with meaningless minutiae and frivolous banter about the places I travel or people I meet. Instead I'll focus on one experience or two in each blog, capture the moment, and peel the onion just a little bit to see what lies beneath waiting. It's in these experiences I hope to give you a taste of life, at least my life, whether I'm sitting in a musty wine celler converted into Jazz club in downtown Prague or simply eating a pannini sandwich from the corner store at 7th & 42nd Streets in Manhattan. Wherever it is I hope you can savor the experience with me.

The Bus Ride
Well, this being my inaugural blog, it only seems fitting that it's set in one of the greatest cities in the world: New York City. It was Saturday, July 3, and my two cousins Lori & Leslie, along with my brother Mike & I were riding the bus from New Jersey into the city. It cost $6.75 from Lake Hiawatha, a rather sleepy suburb where my other cousin Louie lives. The day was beautiful, sunny, with a translucent blueness in the sky. I stared at the city as it arose in the distance in an array of odd shapes, block buildings, and jutting points reaching upwards. It grew impendingly large as the shapes began to fill the landscape. I made a conscious effort to turn away from time to time, because I learned when I was young not to stare out the window too much in fear of getting nauseated from motion sickness.

We arrived at the Port Authority on 42nd & 8th streets at 4:30 p.m., and having drank plenty of water I had to go, if you know what I mean. As I walked into the men's room, there stood a tall gangly guy with stringy hair, kind of hunched over, standing awkwardly in the middle of the restroom. He looked like he was in pain when he suddenly knocked impatiently on a stall door shouting, "Are you almost done in there?" I held my laughter as the look of urgent distress came over his face (I guess he had to really go). Then suddenly, he got on all fours to look under the stall to see if anybody was actually in there. I walked away with a remote nod of my head, whispering to myself, "Only in New York. Classic."


Times Square

New York City - Times Square
We walked out onto 42nd street and into the moving wall of people that amassed outside the station. We stopped at Starbucks (where else) for a frappucino and trekked a block up to Times Square. Time Square has this chaotic brilliance about it. I think it's the way the street erupts as people wrestle their way along sidewalks, navigating corners, avoiding street vendors selling "I love NY" t-shirts, and street urchins playing the drums on buckets as they collect pennies and nickels. Meanwhile countless videoscreens feature Diet Coke, Samsung, Cadillac, Discover, Toys R Us, all hypnotizing as you wait to cross the street. It's a Chinese buffet-like feast for the eyes and a cacophonous symphony for the ears. Yet somehow it all comes together in a wierd harmonious way like an urban fractal. Times Square is the butterly that flaps its wings setting chaos into motion forming something utterly breathtaking.

Virgins
Traveling with my brother and cousins to NYC was a treat. My boisterous cousin Leslie was in sheer delight, begging me to take her picture at each corner. She giggled like a little girl as she proudly announced, "I'm a virgin to New York City." My brother Mike in his own quiet way was awestruck, head looking upwards as the sounds of horns honked, smoke filled the sidewalks, and the pungent smell of humans pervaded our nostrils. He too was a virgin. My ever stylish cousin Lori sauntered along with calm coolness, as if the streets of NY had no effect on her. You could tell she was not a virgin. As for me, this was only my second time in NYC, and there was still a pulsating rush in my veins. I guess you could say I am a bit of a virgin too (if that's possible).


Lori, Mike, & Leslie (All as Bubba Gump)

Final Thoughts
I vaguely remember the first time I was in NYC even though it was only a couple of months ago. I was by myself then, but this time I was with family. The cool thing about being with them was that they put NYC into context. I'm the type of person that tends to remember the moment more vividly when others are around. The colors seem brighter, the smells are stronger, and the pictures are more meaningful. It's all about having someone to share with, laugh at (or with), and take your photo without the fear of your camera being stolen. Mike, Lori, & Leslie were all that for me!

- Marvin A