BEAUTY OF LAKE TAHOE

During my extended business trip to the United States, I decided to make my return memorable by embarking on an exciting journey with my cousins and friends who reside there. Given that most of my cousins and many close friends call the US their home, we collectively decided to reunite and explore various destinations across the country. One of our chosen destinations was the stunning Lake Tahoe, a decision made by my cousins residing in California. Our group consisted of three cousins, accompanied by my cousin's husband, their child, and myself, embarking on what promised to be an epic adventure.

One particular weekend, we hatched a plan to have a picnic and embark on a scenic road trip from San Francisco (SFO) to Lake Tahoe by car, undoubtedly the best way to experience the natural beauty of this region. The journey was nothing short of spectacular, with magnificent mountains resembling ice cream cones adorned with snowy peaks, adding an aura of mystique to the landscape. One of the highlights of our visit was taking a ski ride, which provided a breathtaking overview of the majestic mountains, leaving me completely mesmerized.

Our road trip took approximately 3.5 hours, and we found lodging near a lovely resort that offered panoramic views from every angle, a truly mesmerizing experience. The undisputed centerpiece of Lake Tahoe is its awe-inspiring mountains, which stand tall and serene, exuding a sense of peace and grandeur. Despite the presence of snow, the weather was surprisingly mild, allowing me to comfortably wear a light corduroy jacket with a top, jeans, and ordinary Nike sandals. The most exhilarating part of the trip was ascending the mountains and standing amidst the breathtaking vistas. While my cousins attempted skiing, I couldn't overcome my fear. Skiing equipment, especially for beginners, felt incredibly heavy, and maintaining balance on skis proved to be quite the challenge, as anyone who has tried it would understand.

Upon reaching the mountain's summit and watching my cousins' skiing attempts, my phobia got the best of me. Today was one of those days when I couldn't fathom descending the mountain. Even the sky escalator ride to the top was an adventure in itself, and merely sitting there was a considerable feat for me. This is probably something not many people know about me. I prefer not to draw attention to my fear or let it hinder my exploration of and enjoyment of the breathtaking natural beauty that surrounds us. However, when I'm certain that I won't be able to partake in an activity, I try to avoid it to prevent any inconvenience or disruption to others. Instead, we decided to build a snowman, or at least made an attempt, which I'll share more about in my next post. 😄🏔️❄️

Planning the Journey

My extended business trip to the United States had been a whirlwind of meetings, deadlines, and city hopping, but as it neared its end, I saw an opportunity to turn it into something more personal and memorable. With family and friends scattered across the country, the idea of a reunion trip felt like the perfect way to cap off my time here. My cousins in California, always up for an adventure, suggested Lake Tahoe as our destination—a place I’d heard of but never visited. The group came together naturally: three cousins, my cousin’s husband, their energetic toddler, and me, all eager to make the most of a rare weekend together.

The plan was simple yet exciting—a road trip from San Francisco to Lake Tahoe. We’d pack a picnic, pile into a car, and let the journey unfold. Lake Tahoe, stradling the California-Nevada border, is famed for its crystal-clear waters and towering mountains, and my cousins assured me it was a must-see. The thought of driving through such iconic scenery, with family by my side, filled me with anticipation. We set a date, gathered our supplies, and prepared for a day that promised both relaxation and adventure.

The Road Trip Begins

The drive from San Francisco to Lake Tahoe is about 3.5 hours, a distance that felt just right for a weekend getaway. We started early, the morning fog still clinging to the Bay Area as we loaded up the car. My cousin’s husband took the wheel, while the rest of us settled in—me with a coffee in hand, my cousins chatting excitedly, and their little one, strapped into a car seat, babbling away. The picnic basket, stuffed with sandwiches, fruit, and snacks, sat snugly in the trunk, a promise of a feast to come.

As we left the urban sprawl of San Francisco behind, the landscape began to shift. The flatlands gave way to rolling hills, then to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. The road twisted and climbed, offering glimpses of what lay ahead. About an hour in, the mountains came into full view—towering peaks dusted with snow, their shapes whimsical and inviting, like giant ice cream cones scooped from the earth. The sight was breathtaking, a natural spectacle that made the drive itself a highlight. We rolled down the windows, letting the crisp mountain air flood the car, and I couldn’t help but snap photos through the glass, capturing the mystique of the scenery as it unfolded.

Arrival at Lake Tahoe

We reached Lake Tahoe by mid-morning, pulling into a resort area near the lake’s edge. The lodging we’d booked was modest but perfectly positioned, with wide windows offering panoramic views of the water and mountains. Stepping out of the car, I was struck by the serenity of the place. The lake shimmered under the sun, its deep blue surface framed by snow-capped peaks that stood tall and silent, exuding a quiet grandeur. It was a scene that felt almost otherworldly, a blend of calm and majesty that instantly justified the trip.

The weather was a pleasant surprise—mild despite the snow on the ground. I’d packed a light corduroy jacket, expecting a chill, but paired with a simple top, jeans, and my trusty Nike sandals, it was more than enough. The air was cool but not biting, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of pine and water. We unpacked our picnic and set up near the resort, spreading a blanket on a grassy patch with a view of the lake. The food tasted better outdoors, surrounded by nature—simple sandwiches and fruit transformed into a feast by the setting. My cousin’s child toddled around, giggling as we fed him bites, his joy adding a layer of warmth to the moment.

The Mountain Adventure

After lunch, we decided to explore the mountains more closely. Lake Tahoe is a haven for outdoor enthusiasts, and one of its biggest draws is the ski resorts that dot the area. My cousins were keen to try skiing, and they’d booked us a ride on the sky escalator—a gondola that would take us up to the slopes. The ascent was an adventure in itself. As the gondola lifted off, the ground dropped away, revealing a sweeping view of the lake and peaks. The mountains stretched out below, their snowy tops glistening in the sunlight, and I felt a mix of awe and nervous excitement.

At the summit, the air was crisper, the snow crunching underfoot. My cousins eagerly rented skiing gear, their enthusiasm infectious. I’d never skied before, so I joined them at the rental shop, curious to give it a try. But as I strapped on the heavy boots and hefted the skis, a wave of unease hit me. The equipment felt unwieldy, and the thought of sliding down a steep slope—however gentle the beginner’s run—sent my heart racing. Balance has never been my strong suit, and the idea of controlling my descent on those narrow planks seemed daunting.

Facing My Fears

Watching my cousins take to the slopes didn’t help. They wobbled and laughed, falling more than once but getting back up with grins. My cousin’s husband guided their child down a tiny hill, the little one squealing with delight. It was a picture of family fun, but my phobia of heights and falling held me back. I’d made it up the mountain—a feat in itself, given the gondola ride—but descending on skis felt like a bridge too far. I stood at the edge of the slope, skis in hand, and admitted defeat. Today wasn’t the day I’d conquer that fear.

This aversion isn’t something I talk about often. I love adventure and exploring new places, and I hate letting fear dictate my experiences. Usually, I push through, masking my nerves with a smile, but skiing was different. The physical challenge, combined with the height, was too much. I didn’t want to draw attention to it or dampen the group’s fun, so I quietly stepped back, content to watch from the summit. The views were reward enough—panoramas of snow-dusted peaks and the lake below, a vista that felt like a gift for simply being there.

A Snowy Alternative

Instead of skiing, we pivoted to a lighter activity—building a snowman. My cousins, ever adaptable, joined me in the effort, piling snow into lumpy shapes while their child clapped and giggled. It wasn’t a masterpiece—our snowman leaned precariously, and we couldn’t find sticks for arms—but the process was pure joy. We laughed at our clumsy attempts, the snow sticking to our gloves and jeans, and I snapped photos of the wonky creation with the mountains as a backdrop. It was a simple, silly moment, but it felt like the heart of the trip—a shared experience that didn’t require bravery, just togetherness.

Reflecting on the Day

As the afternoon waned, we rode the gondola back down, the descent smoother than I’d expected. The resort glowed in the late light, and we lingered by the lake, soaking in the last of the day’s beauty. Lake Tahoe had delivered on its promise—a stunning escape that blended nature’s grandeur with family connection. My cousins teased me gently about skipping the skiing, but there was no judgment, just understanding. They’d had their thrill, and I’d had mine in my own way.

This trip was a reminder that adventure doesn’t always mean pushing past every fear. Sometimes, it’s about knowing your limits and finding joy within them. The mountains, the lake, the road trip—they were enough to make the weekend unforgettable. And with more time left in the US, I knew this was just one chapter of a broader journey with my loved ones. Stay tuned for the snowman saga and more tales from our travels—I can’t wait to share what’s next!