I was in Lake Tahoe earlier this year, although my holiday is not really what I want to talk about. (For the record, the holiday was excellent; the snow was perfect; the food was fresh and healthy – except for up the mountain, which was a terrible franchise operation, resulting in minimal choice and overpriced greasy crap; they could certainly take a leaf out of the Italian resorts’ books, with small family-run restaurants, quality and choice; and everyone was friendly. I had a great time, even though I did not – somehow – win a fortune on the slot machines in the Nevada casinos.)
No, what interested me (not the only thing, of course; but for the purposes of this diatribe) was a poster that I saw in the fresh-juice shop (oh, how metrosexual of me). As far as I can recall – and I apologise if I get the details wrong, but I wasn’t there to involve myself in local politics – the local council (or equivalent) was beginning (by which I mean, in 2007) a consultancy to look into why the famous clarity of the lake was diminishing. If you are unaware (and there is no reason why you shouldn’t be, if you’ll excuse my double negatives), Lake Tahoe is renowned for its clarity; apparently you can see down 70 feet, so pure is the water. But, and here is the crux, it is not as clear as it used to be. And it’s getting worse.
South Lake Tahoe is approximately a four-hour drive from San Francisco. I know this because I drove it. When I got to the rental desk, and the check-in robot had refused to countenance the fact that I might need to use snow chains, despite the fact that snow had closed the roads for two days just the previous week, she offered me a 4x4 SUV. For only $100 more. Well, I was feeling flush, and didn’t fancy driving through icy roads in a matchbox car, so I took it. Thank God. The feeling of power in a big car was incredible. So much so that, thinking I was invincible (or being shattered after an 11-hour flight and severely misjudging the width: your choice), I attacked the pillar of the multi-storey car park that the rental office was in. Needless to say, the wing mirror lost. Still, that’s another story. Until I got the highway, I still thought I was king of the road. However, although the SUV I was in would dwarf anything but the largest Range Rover over here, it was a mid-size by comparison. The trucks (which are sold as personal vehicles, much like you or I would buy a Focus or, if you wanted something a little larger, a Volvo) were huge. And plentiful: very plentiful. Six lanes of gas-guzzling monsters. Each with only one person in.
At the resort, I couldn’t walk to the Safeway 200 yards from my hotel room because the pavements (or sidewalks: when in Rome…) weren’t cleared of snow (unlike the roads). And I didn’t fancy being arrested for jaywalking on a five-lane through road. No, I had to get into the car and drive there. Literally: out of the hotel car park; drive 100 yards up the road; into the car park. When I asked at the hotel reception if I could get to the slopes without driving, they looked at me as if I was mad (to be fair, there was a free shuttle bus all day, and cheap casino buses in the evening. I guess not many people fancied this option). To ensure that everyone can get on the slopes, huge car parks are provided.
Spot the difference
And yet the Lake Tahoe authority need a discussion about why the lake is losing a foot a year of visible depth. The answer, to anyone that doesn’t see their car as an essential appendage, is to remove the traffic. It’ll never happen of course. I wonder if anyone will even suggest it…
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