Ahwahnee Hotel

This was scarcely Lake Tahoe as I had known it before--white-on-white winter days and getting up at dawn to ski the milk run. Below the vast stone deck of our Squaw Valley hotel on this early summer evening, a new golf course was greening under the lazy spit-spitting of rainbirds. Across the snug little valley, the mountains seemed so close you still could distinguish the branches of pine trees even as the sky was darkening.