Wow Place #286: Lake Tahoe Flume Trail. CA
“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
– T.S Eliot
I am not, by nature, a thrill seeker. I’ve never rappelled off a cliff face. I’ve never sky-dived. I will never bungee. Although I’m fine going to “risky” exotic lands and eating “dangerous” exotic foods, I’m just not crazy about heights. Given that, I have to ask myself, “What the heck was I thinking, riding the Flume Trail?!!”
It’s all my buddy Tim E.’s fault! 😊 We don’t get together very often; he divides his time between Japan, Nepal and Australia, while I’m primarily a California guy. But when our paths do occasionally cross, we like to get out and be active in nature. It is quite normal, then, that on a jaunt to beautiful Lake Tahoe, CA, in the Sierra mountains 4 hours east of San Francisco, we would decide to go mountain biking. Tahoe boasts some of the best trails in the state, and none better than the spectacular Flume Trail!
The trail’s history begins with a common California theme – water—or lack thereof. During the Comstock Lode days in the late 19th century, when the state was gifted with one of the largest silver strikes the world has every known, the West’s shortage of available water came into stark view. To bring in more water flow, engineers built a dam to divert water from the nearby Hobart Creek/Washoe Lake, constructing a combination box flume/pressure pipeline to channel water 2,000 feet down from the Carson Range to the Washoe Valley. In 1887, more pipelines and flumes were built to tap into Hobart Creek and Marlette Lake. The Tahoe Flume Trail roughly traces the path of the old pipeline.
To say the ride is “vigorous” is an understatement. The first section is an 1,100 foot climb that tops out at the lovely Marlette Lake, 8,157’. Although I’ve done a fair bit of mountain biking at this point in my life, I’m not quite ready for the thin air and the sandy track. Yes, I’ll admit it, I get off my bike and push it for most of the ascent. The effort is all worth it, however, as we arrive at Marlette Lake — pretty much everything you want in a secluded, high-altitude lake – clear blue water, vibrant-green pine trees, the assorted scenic boulder. It’s like Spielberg has designed this place as a scenic movie set for his next alpine action movie.
That’s when things get “exciting.” With a swing to the left, the trail shifts from bucolic to hair raising. What was just a moment ago a languid pedal around a quiet, mountain lake has now become a narrow spine-tingling, single-track path hugging a cliff – with a 2,000-foot drop off to the left, straight down towards Lake Tahoe.
“Are we supposed to ride this, Tim?”
“There’s no choice, Dave. Only one road forward!”
This is one of those moments when I wish I was a horse wearing blinders. All I can do to stem my terror is focus on the 3-foot-wide trail below me and the rock face to my right. To be sure, the view is GLORIOUS. Lake Tahoe is a remarkably beautiful, expansive lake, and I’m sure I’ll appreciate it fully when we’re back down on ground level, sitting in a café, drinking hot chocolate! For the moment, however, the only place for my eyes is straight down or immediately to the right, hoping and praying that other bikers don’t approach us from the opposite direction.
Thankfully, we survive the tricky stretch (praise to all divinities) and proceed to the final stage of the trail – a wide, exhilarating, 7-mile downhill path taking us all the way to the lake. It’s a delicious reward after several miles of white-knuckling it on the exposed-cliffside.
“We did it, Tim!”
“Yeah! Let’s do it again!”
“Thanks but … no thanks. ‘Room with a View’ – great book! ‘Flume with a View’ – Not so much.
(Memory is an interesting thing, isn’t it? When you’re in the moment, gritting your way through something that feels risky and dangerous, all you’re thinking about is how to get past it as quickly as possible. Later, your mind reframes things. “What an amazing experience! We were living on the edge! Now that’s living!” I’m sure there’s an evolutionary reason for this. Otherwise we’d never do anything scary or painful again – like a mom having more kids after a rough pregnancy. We humans are great at compartmentalizing, at retelling, at reframing and respinning. The next time you survive a scary encounter, try writing down your feelings immediately. Then, when you find yourself editing the story in later recounting, at least you’ll have a record of what you were actually feeling. That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun elaborating – I mean, why not? But a little self-humility is always a good thing.)
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