The hourglass-shaped peg measure was sitting in the corner of the bar, its chrome dulled from disuse. The bartender, displaying enviable dexterity spinning spirit bottles and rattling ice-cubes with vigour as he enthusiastically mixed merry margaritas, hadn’t bothered with the peg measure for ages. He was an old hand at this and his approximations were spot on and reflected as such in the superb cocktails he slammed down on the bar.
I can attest this because at Gomez’s, an absolutely hopping Mexican restaurant in Mammoth Lakes, California, I had some my best margaritas ever, not to mention fantastic chicken wings.
As we sat, guffaws bouncing off the walls, you’d hardly believe that we’d started off as strangers on a bus five days ago in San Francisco. But pretty places and lovely locales act as blitzkrieg bonding agents and turn strangers into friends.
Of the fact that Lake Tahoe and Mammoth Lakes are pristinely beautiful places there is no doubt. Look at the pictures and you’ll know that.
Our first stop had been Squaw Valley, 194 miles east of San Francisco, close to Lake Tahoe. Even though it was almost the beginning of June, the ski season was yet in full flow. In fact this year, the skiing season went on right till the 4th of July. We spent our morning at High Camp in Squaw Valley indulging in some skiing and hot-tubbing. The latter means skiing down a slope, stripping down to your bathers or bikinis and jumping into pools within which the water is a comfortable 39 degrees C. It is a fantastic experience to lounge within them sipping mimosas (sparkling wine and orange juice) and take in the snowy slopes and lofty white peaks all around.
Squaw Valley is near the north shores of Lake Tahoe and our next night’s halt was at South Lake Tahoe about 40 miles away. That evening we played hopscotch with the border: we stayed at Lake Tahoe Embassy suites just across the border in California, but walked across to Nevada for dinner at MontBleu Resort Casino and Spa. In Nevada gambling is legal and if you’re a Frank Sinatra fan, then his swinging hit ‘Luck be a Lady with me’ will ring in your ears the moment you set foot into the casino.
But honestly you don’t go to South Lake Tahoe to pull at slot machine handles; there are better and more enjoyable ways to tempt fate. The Heavenly Gondola at the Heavenly Ski Resort takes visitors up the mountain where there are fantastic views of Lake Tahoe and lovely trails to ski and snowboard during winter and hike and mountain bike during summer.
But the highlight or the ‘item number’ so to speak, as I playback those five days in the multiplex of my mind has to be Mammoth Lake and Mammoth Mountain. Situated 137 miles south of Lake Tahoe, this is California’s hidden gem. When in California you’d probably rush to Yosemite to get your dose of adventure, but take my advice and continue on California State Highway number 108 that joins US highway 395 from Lake Tahoe to Mammoth Lakes just before another small lake called Mono Lake and carry on to Mammoth Lakes.
But before that stop at the Whoa Nellie Deli at Mono Lake, if the mention of a rack of ribs smothered with barbeque sauce or a big juicy steak makes you go weak in the knees, then you’d better be sitting down here when your order is served. Two words – simply divine!
Mammoth Lakes is where you come to ski or snowboard in winter (and this goes on till the 4th of July) or cycle, walk, hike, raft, fish, kayak or camp in the summer. While we were there the weather kept swinging from snow blizzards to sublime sunshine, so one moment we were driving blind in a Sno-Cat up the mountain and the next were having champagne and sandwiches knee deep in snow but topped by a brilliant blue sky. Some others were zipping down the slopes on skis or snowboards and whooping at the sheer thrill of it.
Later that evening, to wind down from the adrenaline buzz there’s the Hyde Lounge night club in the centre of town (right next to Gomez’s) where all of us descended that snowy night. It started off quite sober but I vaguely remember it ending with most of us trying to tap dance on the tables.
It was the next day, just before our flight back to LA, that we sat at Gomez’s laughing and back-slapping like old buddies. The buoyant mood carried on right through the holding area of the small Yosemite – Mammoth Airport and onto our small plane to Los Angeles, so much so that the pilot peeked out from behind the cockpit door to see what all the commotion was about.
His face lit up in a knowing smile – he’d seen it often – Lakes Tahoe and Mammoth send people back happy and content!
