Our Sierra

The four inches of snow outside my window that I awoke to on September 29 didn’t particularly make me want to lace up my sneakers and run 13.1 miles. But as I rolled out bed that morning, I prepared to do just that. I downed some coffee, dressed (warmly) and got in the car with my fiancé, Jason, and my brother, David, who had flown in from Pennsylvania to run the marathon. We drove to Tahoe City, parked and they walked over to Commons Beach, the starting point of the full marathon, while I loaded a shuttle with other half marathon participants and we were bused to our stop, halfway between Tahoe City and Pope Beach, and dropped off in the cold. We had two hours till the start of our race. Hopping a little to stay warm, the busload of us started trudging up Glen Street, not really sure what to do for the next couple hours. It was freezing outside, and we picked our way up the street, avoiding patches of black ice. As we walked uphill, chilly and slightly disgruntled, a woman came running outside, waving to us. She and her sister were running the half marathon too, she explained. Why don’t we all come inside until the start?

Feeling warmer already, we filed in the house, one by one, at least 20 of us. The woman who brought us in told us that she, her sister and her mother had rented the house for the weekend. The mother, a sweet older woman still in her pajamas made us a fire in the big, open living room. They felt so bad for us, she explained, at the thought of us all standing out in the cold for hours. One sister offered coffee and tea. The other brought around plates of bananas and blueberry bagels. We stretched and talked and laughed and ate. The sisters invited even more people into the home and the mother passed around more food and drinks. A couple of us started playing Balderdash, a board game where everyone makes up ridiculous definitions to ridiculous words, like “scrumpox,” (which actually has a much more innocent meaning than what some of us came up with). The sun slowly came out from behind the clouds.

The time flew by. At 10:30 a.m., we left the house that we had entered two hours earlier, cold and as strangers, now warm and as friends. We crowded the starting line with a couple hundred other people. As the gun went off, I lost them all in the other runners, who were jammed so close together that we jogged only at a jerky trudge until we got down that first hill and away from the melting patches of ice. Throughout the race, up the “Hell Hill,” past Inspiration Point, down the switchbacks and around the historic estates, I’d pass or be passed by the people I had huddled by a fire and drank coffee with that morning. Thirteen miles later, I found Jason and David at the finish line. We got our medals and hobbled to the shuttle that would take us from the Pope Beach end back to the Tahoe City start, and I explained to them the possible definitions for the word “scrumpox.”

Packed snacks and loaded the boys—Max, Ben, Blackjack and Tom—into the car on a bluebird Tahoe fall day. Destination: The Kokannee Salmon Festival at Taylor Creek Visitor Center. Headed south via a now quiet West Shore, but by the time we got close to Emerald Bay, all were antsy. But what a fine place to make a pit stop! We tucked into the parking lot there and best of all, no fighting over parking spots at this time of year. I took Jack for a tail-wagging stroll while Tom followed the boys rock climbing. No falls or scrapes, and they had fun scrambling over “the mountains.”

After plenty of oohing and ahhing over the views, and a little planning of next summer’s hike up to Eagle Lake, we resumed our journey south, along Emerald Bay road, hanging on tightly as we crossed the terminal moraine land bridge between Cascade Lake and Lake Tahoe. A few tight hairpin turns off the ride and at last we were there (yet). Of course, with boys, that meant eating first. Lake Tahoe Wildcare was grilling salmon, so can’t exactly complain about the fare.

Once little tummies were full we met Sammy the Salmon. Jack growled and barked, transforming into mellow lab to defender against all things fish. Very amusing. Ben wasn’t too keen on the giant upright land-fish either. We plunged headfirst into collecting stamps at each of the stations set up to help the little guys learn about the life cycle of the Kokannee. Pretty informative for the adults too.

But the best part was walking along Taylor Creek and watching the bright red fish splash and wiggle their way through the shallows, looking for a safe spot to lay and fertilize their eggs, then the fight to defend territory from other male fish (the guys with the hooked jaw and hump back) and Mallard ducks looking for a little brunch. Blackjack was definitely straining at the leash to get in there too.

Cool views inside the stream profile chamber too, where you can get an underwater perspective on the salmon. Spent awhile inside the dark and cool room while the kids knocked on the window, vying for a Kokannee’s attention.

But by now, little legs were lagging, and of course, stomachs growling again, so while the boys went over to paint with dead fish—no kidding, it’s an ancient Japanese art form—I rounded up some mint chocolate cookie ice cream, which they devoured. After red and green scaly prints dried, we headed back to the car for the homeward journey. Stopped at Cave Rock boat launch and beach on the way home, and the warm day lured the boys into the water for a bit, while I chilled on the sand, soaking in the last, best days of Indian summer.

Tahoe bid farewell to one its beloved community members, Marvin the porcupine, this September. If you had never had the pleasure of meeting Marvin, the constant companion of BEAR League executive director Ann Bryant, he was a sight to behold. Though at first intimidating with his wide girth and formidable quills, Marvin was actually a quiet, amiable animal who loved to relax in his red wagon. Bryant carted him to dozens of community events each year, including Earth Day celebrations at Squaw Valley, fall festivals in Tahoe City and Lake Tahoe Wildlife Care open houses in South Lake Tahoe.

Marvin was rescued by Lake Tahoe Wildlife Care after he was hit by a car eight years ago. Unable to return to the wild, he was taken in by Bryant and has lived with her ever since. I first met Marvin on Commons Beach in Tahoe City three years ago. Though at first afraid to pet him, after witnessing his docile nature, I was enamored—and amazed that he never left his red wagon! A year and a half later, while in a volunteer training course for Lake Tahoe Wildlife Care, I bore witness to Marvin’s wild side. He moseyed slowly around the convention room, bumping into walls and tables.

His premature death—porcupines can live up to 20 years—is attributed to liver cancer, with which he fell ill about a month before passing. Plans are in the works to commemorate Marvin, perhaps with a bronze statue. Donations can be made to the BEAR League with the notation, “Marvin’s memorial fund.” For more information, visit www.savebears.org.