The lake is sapphire blue and flat out until the forever of the snow sprinkled mountains stop the water’s reach. A few young people visit on the driftwood beach and in the clear teal of the shallow water, their happy dogs alongside. Occasional boats speed across, but the silent rhythmic sight of couples kayaking is the most enjoyable to take in.
Trees suspend against a perfect blue sky as if wind never existed. I’d like to go on a sail boat, to find a new appreciate for the wind and feel what it truly means when they compare the water to glass.
The stillness of a summer ended invites the quiet parts of you to sit.
A paddle boarder passes. It feels Native American to me. It’s quiet, solitary, and presence demanding, quite an authoritative way of transportation across the lake.
Dogs could swim forever. Could we? Children can play on the beach for days. How long could adults stay content?
This blue bodied lake has provided serenity and swimming for humans since before we knew we were so.
I point across the lake to Mount Tallac—which presides over Desolation Wilderness, in the great state of California.
“I’ve climbed that.” I can say.
Upon arriving to Hidden Beach I sought out the easily recalled structure made of driftwood, like a bony camel all different shades of beige.
The log cabin we had our cheerleader sleep over in, a wood plank pier I jumped off after midnight, 16 and a half years old, dizzy with drunkenness. No wonder we love it, this lake holds our memories, dreams, and young secrets in its pine tree bottom profundity, its Ice Age rocks, and the long alligator snout looking islet that sticks out into the water.
Pack a cooler but don’t bring a radio.
Swim, lay out,
and hope for a beer induced nap.
Stop at T’s on the way home,
roll down the windows as you drive.
And Keep Tahoe Blue.
Mantenga Tahoe Azul.