As I mentioned earlier this week I grew up in Lake Tahoe. It's difficult to describe what an amazing place it is, and it's even more difficult to articulate why my heart skips a few beats with excitement when I think of it. It's incredibly beautiful, like no place on earth, but I think my love for Tahoe, and it's beauty, goes much deeper. For examle: the snow covered mountains. And, not to mention, one of my favorite winter pastimes, snowboarding. I am always overcome by a deep longing to hit the slopes this time of year, and there are a million little reasons why, but mainly because this is what the mountains are like on an average winter day in Tahoe:
There is nothing quite like the warm sun, cold snow, and the rush of riding the mountain. There's also nothing quite like the feeling of doing this:
And even though I never competed, I could pull some decent moves on the jumps and in the half pipe (that is until a professional snowboarder came down the pipe behind me and schooled my mediocre moves, which was likely because they were everywhere in Tahoe. Professionsals, that is.) But, really, at the end of the day, what makes my heart skip a few beats is the fact that Lake Tahoe is mine, and not a lot of people can say that. Once the High Sierra's have claimed you, there's no going back.
