The month of July  snuck up on me this year. Already a couple of weeks in to summer vacation, we’ve done a lot but there is so much more fun to stealthy cram in to the next 6 weeks before school starts.  CMB and I couldn’t think of a more enjoyable way to kick off the month than the manner to which we’ve become accustomed (since last year at least) so we decided to dust off our mesh baseball caps, pack up the kids (and a bunch of other crap), and head to North Lake Tahoe for our second annual 4th of July extravaganza!
Since variety is the spice of life (and the house we rented last year was not available) we changed things up by staying in a different location, close to King’s Beach.

 

Apparently, the adorable Pine Cone Cottage earned its name due to its proximity to the lake- “a pine cone’s throw” away from the beach.  Now I’m not sure who was throwing this pine cone-whomever did must have been a professional baseball player, football star or first-class object hurler of some kind- but our walk to the beach was over a mile.  No problem.  We had been sitting in the car for hours and were eager to join in on the 3rd of July beachside festivities.  So along we trekked  in true tourist fashion, decked out  in  swimsuits and flip flops, dragging a load of towels and inflatable rafts for what seemed  like a hell of a lot more than a pine cone’s throw.  While I  wear flip flops most of the time, something about the combination of hauling stuff and walking further than from my car directly to a destination, did not agree so much with my feet.   I’ve run marathons for goodness sake! Whoever’s heard of getting shin splits from strolling in flip flops? (Psst- this is foreshadowing of coming events, so pay attention).  Anyway, we had a great time at the beach cooling off and observing the interesting fashion choices other visitor’s had made.  There was no shortage of patriotic attire for as far as the eye could see, one gal even sported an American flag thong which none of us could stop staring at for different reasons.  My 11-year-old daughter found the swimsuit both “disgusting and inappropriate,” my 14-year-old son-was at a loss for words for the lack of coverage but he is a 14 year old boy, CMB used the sighting as material for a series of brilliant comedic pontifications and the butt of many jokes, and I was just jealous that my assets are neither perfect nor nearly as perky.  Admitting all of this is somewhat embarrassing and very unPC.  I firmly believe that people should wear whatever they want and not be judged based on their clothing choices (unless they’re wearing mom jeans) but some fashion statements just beg to be the center of attention and focus of conversation, so there.  However, we did stop gawking long enough to take a few pictures,

 

eat some dinner, and eventually watch the fireworks.

The morning of the 4th we woke up early by vacation standards.  We had planned to rent a Stand Up Paddle Board  in Truckee and wanted to get there before all of the parade insanity began.  I briefly entertained the idea of squeezing in a run before our departure, but opted for sitting on my butt with a cup of coffee instead.  CMB selflessly went on ahead without me to explore the terrain, promising to  map out a good route (with minimal hills) for tomorrow.  Those readers who were with me last year at this time may recall how running in Tahoe is quite breathtaking, literally.  While her views are amazing, her altitude is a bitch.  Because I was marathon training then, completely bagging a run for no good reason was not an option.  But since this year I was vacationing with out 26.2 miles hanging over my head, I felt justified in exercising my right to be lazy.  After grabbing both the SUP and a quick breakfast, we decided to forgo the parade and head straight to the beach at Meek’s Bay.  

 

The kids and CMB had a blast paddle boarding, kayaking and swimming while I (fully committed to relaxing) remained on my lounge chair with a book for most of the day.  It was the perfect way to celebrate both our country’s independence, and my own hiatus from responsibility.

Saturday’s trip to Emerald Bay was much more strategically planned than last year’s.  We all knew what we were in for with the hike down to the beach, and conveniently managed to push all thoughts of the return trek to the back of our minds.  We wore appropriate hiking footwear and even previously purchased a rolling apparatus for the kayak and paddle board.  The only detail inefficiently addressed was the business of the cooler.  We own a cooler with wheels but for some reason decided to grab the stationary one when packing the car in Marin.  As CMB tackled the transport of the water sport paraphernalia, it fell upon yours truly to lug that thing down the trail.   We planned on spending most of the day at the beach, so this cooler containing hours worth of sustenance (including beer) was HEAVY.  No problem.  I have been known to work out my guns when I’m not running,  so I was totally up for the challenge.  I even hoisted that mofo over my head and performed some walking lunges on the way down to make up for skipping my morning run once again.  It was such a beautiful hike down that we almost forgot how much crap some of us were lugging.

Others of us who carried a single raft were more than happy to stop and pose for pictures- but hey, that’s part of being a mom and why I get paid the big bucks.  Once at the bottom, we staked our claim on a plot of beach and set up camp.  For the next 5 hours we blissfully sunned, ate, drank and made merry on the lake.  When we could no longer delay the inevitable, up we packed and began our ascent to the car.  I can’t complain too much since we decimated all of our provisions making the cooler much more tolerable on the way up.  But CMB’s job was infinitely more difficult.  He independently pushed the apparatus carrying the kayak and paddle board up the entire incline, heart pounding, without a single complaint.  I tried to help by taking a turn which lasted all of 5 seconds and sent the paddle board sliding off the top of the kayak.  CMB patiently remedied my blunder, without so much as a stink eye in my direction, and onward we pressed. I know,  I definitely married up.

After a restful night’s sleep, we were all ready to take it on the road, and trail, once again.  Hidden Beach, on the Nevada side of North Lake Tahoe, was our next destination.  Much like Emerald Bay, Hidden Beach is not a parking lot to beach experience.  One basically parks on the side of the road, avoiding resident only parking sections, and walks along the side of the road (in flip flops) for as long as is necessary to reach a specified  dirt trail.  You then simply follow this narrow and windy trail until you reach some crude and crumbling steps which descend to a beautiful and not overly populated beach.  Oh yeah- and you do all this while carrying lots of crap- chairs, towels, rafts, coolers and bags of stuff you probably don’t need.  Since there aren’t any arms available to carry kayaks and paddle boards, and the wheeling apparatus won’t work so well on dirt, you’ll also need a loving husband and selfless father who will trek back to the car solo.  From there he will need to be able to cut through someone’s backyard, launch the paddle board in to the lake, and paddle back to his appreciative family relaxing on the beach.  However, keep in mind that on the paddle board ride over said superman might just get pulled over by the Water Police since he might be traveling on a water vessel without a life vest aboard.  (Yes, a paddle board is considered a water vessel on Lake Tahoe.  Who knew?)  Luckily though,  your heroic husband will get away with a mere slap on the wrists and a borrowed bright orange life vest which he’ll need to drop at the fire station on the way out of town.  Phew!

On the morning of our 5th day, I finally came to terms with the fact that my running clothes would remain unused and neatly folded in my suitcase.   I rolled out of bed half-planning to finally make use of them, until my feet hit the floor.

Ow! Shin splints!

Huh? Shin splints?

But all I did was walk several miles in flip flops carrying tons of beach equipment…

Oh. Right.  Shin splints.

It seems that my devil may care attitude regarding footwear finally caught up with me.  I hobbled down the stairs for my coffee and to report my status to the family.  It turned out that I was not the only one afflicted.  CMB was also suffering from the side effects of improper tootsie support.  Luckily, the kids escaped unscathed because we never would have heard the end of it.

“Hey Mom and Dad! Remember that time you made us hike to the beach in flip flops? That was the worst day ever!  You guys are so mean!!!  ”  blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc….

Despite our damaged state, we managed to pack it up and move it out pretty early that morning.  The idea was to have our son at Northstar by 9:30am where he would spend the morning mountain biking.  We arrived in plenty of time, enough to even craft a plan for a hike and lunch time meeting with our son and  the mountain biking instructor.  Rather than taking the gondola (because that’s for wimps wearing flip flops), we decided to hike up the mountain (in our sneakers) to mid- mountain where the 5 of us would rendezvous.   From there, they would continue on the trails while CMB, our daughter and I would hike back down and do some window shopping.  The mountain bike guy (who happened to be all of 23 years old) gave us an estimation of how long the climb would take.  However, he failed to factor our special circumstances  in to the equation.  A couple of 40+ year-olds who live at sea level and a waify 11-year-old take just a little bit longer than an altitude adjusted whippersnapper to make the ascent.  Although late, we made it to our destination, without too much whining and complaining from any one of us, where we enjoyed an incredibly expensive, mediocre lunch with fabulous views.

When it came time to head back down the mountain, our exhausted little girl did not need to twist either of our arms very far to take the gondola.

Our son finished up a couple of hours later-  sweaty, banged-up and elated.  From Northstar we headed to Donner Lake (with a quick pit stop at Dairy Queen) to soak all of our various sore parts in the frigid water.   Hanging on the dock was the perfect way to spend our last night of vacation, mostly because we didn’t have to walk very far to access the water.  While we packed the car the next morning, I mentally took stock of all the adventures (planned and otherwise) we shared.  I was heading home with a rockin’ tan, a few less clothes to launder than I had anticipated, some hilarious stories and a lot of precious memories- my shins were definitely a sacrifice worth making.

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