Prayer, miracles and wonders

It never snows but it pours. All of last week we were wondering when the snow would finally reach Lake Tahoe. In the end, with our departure due the next day, we travelled up to the ski slopes on Friday to take our chances on the man-made snow, since the natural variety just wasn’t showing up. No sooner had we got there, though, than the real kind started to fall, so we had our day’s skiing under grey skies and with tiny, wet snowflakes stinging our faces as we struggled through the wind. 

We were even told, in the café on the slopes where we stopped for lunch, that we’d ‘timed that pretty damn’ well’, as they were going to shut immediately after our orders, having just been told that the ski-lift was closing down. One of the ski patrol people did tell us, with a charming smile (the friendliness and warmth of everyone we met was in stark contrast to the bitterness of the weather), ‘sure, you’ve got the time to eat your sandwiches, but don’t hang around, and if you look like being the last out, make a move for the door’.

By then the blizzard had got well under way, and all we could do was leap on the lift just before it shut and ski back down to the main station. It was a great day all the same, but truncated. Which made me think with wry amusement of the sign, we’d seen in the café where we had our lunch: ‘pray for snow’.

Faith invoked to overcome the drought

By next morning, the prayer had been miraculously answered, and the place was under a good blanket of snow, right down to the lakeside. We even had to fit chains to be able to drive away. Of course, for us, a day earlier would have been no bad thing. Timing is so important, isn’t it? A day’s skiing on fresh snow would have been a delight; instead we got to drive through it, which is much less fun.

Even so, I’m not complaining. We had a great time, however difficult the conditions and however short the day. And it was a relief to see some snow whenever it came, after so long when it looked like there’d be none. I even have to admit that, despite the lousy performance of most weather forecasters, who just kept pushing their prediction of snow back by a day each day, making me feel justified in thinking that one might just as well flip a coin, the local crowd did really well: right from the beginning of the week they said the snow would come on Friday, and they were bang on. They at least got the riming right. And showed me up for maligning them so mercilessly as I usually do (and no doubt will again).

An answer to a prayer - and vindication for a forecaster

Postscript. I loved the sign in the ski station, at the stop for the shuttle back to town: ‘Shuttle Bus to Gondola’.

A miraculous metamorphosis that would have been a wonder to behold

Now that’s a transformation I’d have loved to have seen. Would the driver have turned into an Italian with a fine tenor voice? Would his wooly hat have turned into a straw boater? Would his fleece-lined coat have turned into a stripy shirt? He might have been horribly cold, in the conditions.

But I never found out. We were in a hurry to get away. Timing again, you see. I had to be satisfied with miracle of snow falling in answer to a prayer. The even more miraculous conversion of a bus into a gondola was a wonder I would simply be denied.

Post-postscript. When we got back to the San Francisco Bay Area, I was struck by a pair of road signs: to the left ‘Ex’pression College’, with that apostrophe, for which I can think of absolutely no meaning; to the right, the ‘National Holistic Institute’. 

‘Yes’, I thought, ‘we’re back in the San Francisco area.’ All it would have needed to complete the picture was a few chanting monks in saffron robes. 

That evening Danielle and I went out to Japantown, which we'd never previously visited, travelling as we have on every occasion in this visit, by cable car. At our age, behaving like complete tourists no longer embarrasses us, so we can just let ourselves go and enjoy the pleasure. As well as a pleasant Korean meal in Japantown (yes, yes, I know, we thought it was Japanese until we were inside), we were delighted by the many people we met on the way back, who were all heading for an Edwardian evening.

Wonders of the San Francisco streets

A wondrous sight, and just what one might hope for from that great city, it provided a good way of wrapping up Danielle's visit here. I stay on for another six days.

Strange emeralds and ill-advised signs

Our stay in the Lake Tahoe region continues to provide constantly renewed pleasures. Some of my satisfaction comes in the form of mild irony, but hey, there are few things I appreciate as much - why would I complain?

For instance, the justification for being here at all is to get on with some work. That was supposed to reach its end early this morning, a time marked by splendid sunshine, warming us as we stepped outside, sparkling on the lake below us. But we overran and because, really, genuinely, we’re not hear on holiday (sorry, vacation: this is the US after all), we conscientiously ploughed on until we’d finished our agenda. By which time the clouds had come up, the temperature had fallen, a bitter wind had begun to blow and, before we got to the local beauty spot of Emerald Bay, the snow had started to fall.

Snow. All week we’d been hoping for snow so that we might get a little skiing in before heading back to the big city on Saturday, and not a single snowflake had fallen. It chose instead to start coming down once we’d decided on a hike.

Emerald Bay remained gorgeous place, but it had some trouble living up to its name. Unless of course there is a breed of emerald that is a fine slate grey trending towards jet black (do emeralds have breeds? Not that it matters - I’m sure they don’t have this one.)

Lovely spot. But emerald?

As it happens I nearly didn’t make it down to the lakeside. As we started out on the hike (or gentle country stroll to use the term we prefer in England) I came across a warning sign.

A whole mile? Bad news for health conditions apparently - whatever the condition.
In any case, aren't they lying? We surely are being advised. By this very sign.

Do I have a health condition? Well, of course I do. The condition of my health is, mercifully, pretty good. But it’s certainly a condition.

Should I have stayed in the car park (sorry, parking lot)? Perhaps in the van itself, with the heater on? It would have protected me from the cold and the snow, certainly, but can you imagine? I would have missed the unique experience of seeing grey emerald waters.

In the end I decided that I couldn’t deprive myself of that pleasure and headed down the path. But not without gratitude to the Park authorities for showing such solicitude for my wellbeing.

Thanks, guys.

A place of beauty and a game of chance

There are places which, at every first sight, immediately strike you as belonging to the world's great sitees of natural beauty. Danielle and I are at Lake Tahoe, and it's right up there with what's  most outstanding. A mountain lake stretching into the misty distance, with snow-covered peaks gazing down on all sides, the slopes covered with age-old woods extending as far as the eye can see.

Well, when I say ‘snow-covered’, they ought to be at this time of year, but today all they show is some pretty impressive rocks with odd patches of ice. The snow is only striking for its absence. Bad news for the villages clustered around the lake and which depend on the winter sports: they’re having a bad time of it.

As for us, we’re having to resign ourselves to not skiing, but it hasn't been hard. We're here because a group of my colleagues invited us along so I could join them for some discussions on product strategy, and they've been invaluable. Those colleaguese are also excellent company. So Danielle and I are enjoying spendign time with them, there’s plenty to eat and drink, and the setting is glorious.

Besides, as well as being beautiful, the setting has features than can conjure up a smile.

We happen to be in Nevada. We got here from California. And how did we know that we’d crossed the State Line? Just before we turned off the main road, we came across the infallible sign that we had moved into Nevada: a casino.

The landmark for our arrival in Nevada: the Heavenly Village Casino
But we lost the bet on snow

It’s in the same village, but a different state. On the California side, you can live in virtue with no contact with the corrupting influence of gambling. But if you’re tempted – well, just a few minutes walk will take you into the hands of the fiend and you can gamble your heart away.

Give me virtue. But only when I don’t feel like sinning. As a commandment it may seem a litte pragmatic, a true game of chance dependent on where the line between two States was drawn. That won't satisfy someone who believes that morality should be, well, a little more absolute than that. But at least a rule that flexible seems to take human nature more fully into account.

And it's probably a lot easier to apply to life.