My own private Tahoe

Ten minutes on a hot crowded sandy beach was all it took. We pack up and head to the car. Only to quickly return to rent a couple of kayaks. My daughter and I share one; my husband solos in another.

We are instantly cool and happy in our own private Tahoe. While we were told not to venture too far out where jet-skiers and motorboats are zipping across the lake, I don’t feel too limited. Just a few paddle strokes offshore and we had glided out of earshot of the beach.

This is the way to experience the lake.

There’s an amazing clarity to Tahoe’s lake, I’ve learned, because of the its granite rock bed. Apparently algae doesn’t grow much on granite so the murkiness found in other lakes doesn’t occur here. It twists my depth perception as I gaze down at what could be 20 or 50 feet below to the lake bottom.

Earlier in the day, we stopped by a visitor center and saw a diagram that showed the depth of the lake to be 1,600 feet deep. Deeper than the Empire State Building is tall, this is the second-deepest lake in the country and among the deepest in the world. So much water here that it is thought to be capable of 30-foot tsunamis if an earthquake occurs from one of the faults that run far beneath.

It is bowl-shaped, with a steep scoop so I know it gets deep quickly once offshore. My fear of heights is messing with my mind as I envision the emptiness below. This is a peaceful and powerful place.

I focus on all this for just a few minutes and then just enjoy the moment. We paddle here and there, and then glide a bit and chat. It’s a beautiful day.

Eagle Falls

Halfway up the granite steps, I stopped for a breather. More rock stairs carved into this mountain loomed ahead. Surely it would flatten out soon.

A hiker descended.

“You’re almost there,” she said. “It’s all straight up, but only about a half hour left.”

My soul wilted. A half hour’s climb? I looked at my companions. There was half-hearted eye contact. Nothing to do but move forward. We climbed.

Eagle Lake is worth the pain. Up above the popular Eagle Falls hike at Lake Tahoe’s Emerald Bay, Eagle Lake is serene, peaceful, beautiful. It’s this type of place that keeps me hiking these days.

High granite walls surround this small mountain lake. A duck glides across the smooth surface, creating a vee-shaped wake. We spy a boat of sorts on the far shore. Huh? Someone packed a boat up here?

Ok, so some websites call this an easy walk -- not the truth consider the climb, but for most people, really not too bad at all if you pace yourself. There are a few flat spots that give you a chance to catch your breath and look around.

On this midsummer’s late morning, the heat is rising but at 6,500 feet elevation, that means we’re just touching 80 degrees. A breeze cools us.

Voices and more voices. A trail of people snake toward our lake from below. Seems it’s rush hour here. Time to go.

I let gravity have its way and the descent is easier, if you’ll forgive the trembling that’s set in my legs. We stop partway down to admire the stunning view of Emerald Bay and Lake Tahoe far below. It’s a great location to view one of the most beautiful parts of the 22-mile long lake.

This hike gives far more than it takes.

Fairly fair

There comes a point where you go to the fair and those stomach-twisting rides and midway games don’t look so appealing anymore. I reached that point quite awhile back.

I still love the California State Fair. There is so much packed into this sprawling event – from art and technology exhibits to The Farm and Forestry areas to sales booths. There’s the wine tasting area and county-by-county agricultural exhibits.

Clearly, this is not your ordinary county fair. The State Fair an endurance test of epic proportions.

Let’s start with the food. I had heard of this year’s new item – a Jack Daniel’s soaked churro wrapped in bacon and served with maple syrup and whipped cream. Truly outrageous and a must-try. Right?

We were underwhelmed. The undersized churro was dried out, bacon flabby and not a hint of Jack Daniels flavor.

A simpler food item was a big hit with us. Cold grapes. That’s all.

Three decent-sized stems per serving were sold at The Farm area and they were the perfect food to eat as we strolled looking at the raised beds of watermelons, tomatoes, bellpeppers and much more.

It always impresses me how easy it is to garden in California and grow my own vegetables and fruit. The Farm is inspiring to home gardeners.

It can get pricey for a family of four to go to this big fair. 

With cost of admission, parking, ride tickets and food, the price tag is going to tip over the $100 mark.

This fair does offer a big value for this big price tag. For those with an entertainment budget, it’s one of those rites of summer that’s worth it.

Just wear your walking shoes.

My favorite child

I’ve passed the one-year mark since moving back to California.

Sometimes it feels longer, sometimes less. The sharp edges of my initial impressions of California – the homeless, traffic, impersonality – are wearing smooth as I find new friends and friendly roads to travel.

It would be easy to get lost here. Moving to a new place when kids are grown and the working world is behind me means I have to create an entirely new life from scratch. Make new contacts, develop new friends. There’s been a new house, new neighbors, new doctors, new roads to travel. I’ve learned the hard way to pay close attention to parking signs and the fine print that lists street cleaning days. Beware the $50 parking ticket!

Fortunately, I’ve found a couple of niches in writers, outdoor lovers and other women with similar interests. I’ve found a book club and attend museum events with others. Gone to plays and movies. It takes a little effort to restart a life but finding these groups has made all the difference in feeling a sense of belonging.

Being a bit of an introvert, I cherish my alone time too. Walking through my neighborhood, along paths and trails with my little dog as company, I feel recharged. I walk farmer’s markets and explore new cafes. I find new favorite haunts.

I’m frequently asked if I like California more than my previous home in Idaho. Like asking which is my favorite child, it’s the wrong question. They are both great places for different reasons.

I love my visits back to Boise, the relaxed highway driving, the rolling hills hugging the edge of the city, the friendliness of strangers. Those high mountain lakes, jagged peaks, first-of-the-season snowfalls, whitewater rivers, wilderness that seems to have no end. There’s a sense of the old West there which is kind of cool.

California has the beach and the weather, mountains and redwood forests. I like the vibrancy in California – there’s a buzzing undercurrent in the cities that is stimulating. This place feels fresh and new, not afraid to change, adapt, make mistakes, and change again.

One place is serenity, the other is electric.

Each place also has its own unique downsides. They’re incomparable and I like this too.

The truth is that a place means nothing unless you get out and experience it. I still have a long list of places to visit ahead of me. And I’m still having to work hard at finding my niche here. California is keeping me busy.

Coastal meanderings

The heat drives us west, where cool breezes skim off the cold Pacific water. I have the chills for the first time in months. It feels good.

Carmel is the first stop, where pricey shops and tablecloth-bedecked restaurants abound. My first view is a couple dining al fresco, a tiny white poodle sitting on each of their laps. This is Carmel all right.

Beautiful and expensive, Carmel is known for its cypress-lined streets, proximity to Pebble Beach and high-end real estate. Think 1,600 square feet for $2.4 million. We enjoy walking through the neighborhoods, along the beachfront and through the town. After a $60 lunch, we head to Point Lobos to watch the sea lions. For free.

Point Lobos abuts Carmel to the south and is a scenic spot that has been kept free of development. 

Thank you, California, for preserving large portions of your oceanfront. The views are irreplaceable.

Then we took the 10-minute trek north to the famous Monterey Bay Aquarium. There are no words that best describe this place. But the creatures it displays made me believe in legendary sea monsters.

Only advice here is to arrive early. Line up before the aquarium opens because it crowds up quickly and the noise level can be daunting.

Last stop for the extended weekend is Santa Cruz, about 45 miles farther north. If Carmel is the rich old lady (who’s had a little work done) and Monterey is her blowsy daughter, Santa Cruz is the hip, laid-back granddaughter who’s maybe a little high. There’s the boardwalk and rollercoaster, the beaches, and the college-oriented downtown.

Up in the hills, we find a meditation retreat that has something for everyone. I walk the prayer wheel, sound the peace gong and hike to a two-story golden Buddha.

In the past, we’ve visited Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, but our short visit didn’t allow us to return this time. The park features seven square miles of trails and is probably my favorite spot in this region for its pine needle lined paths and old growth redwoods.

It was one of those drive-by vacations where we barely scratched the surface. So much to see and do, we rush in and try to do it all. As usual, it just feels rushed.