S: We're going to take a leisurely drive home, and still get a decompression (and writing!) day Sunday. Driving out 190, as we crest the Panamint (Argus?) range, we see a weird winged bird flying sideways towards us; it takes a moment to resolve into a fighter jet coming out of a turn, straight at us, passing low overhead with a deafening roar following by a few milliseconds. Pretty sure they would have seen us, and might have even steered a bit to go directly over us, but they probably do follow the roads anyway... It's funny how, to us, this is as much a part of the magic as the pair of coyotes slowing down our wedding procession.
East Sierra Visitor Center is where 190 meets 395. It's a nice stop, with a great view of Mt. Whitney, several labeled examples of desert flora, and postcards, gifts, and info inside.
395 to Tahoe is not a bad drive, following the east flank of the Sierra. Water starts to enter the picture, with lakes and rivers appearing, and numerous signs for fishing and boating along with the camping and off-roading. There's still quite a bit of snow, especially along 89 as we climb to Lake Tahoe.
I have it in my mind to try and find the hotel where we stayed on a previous trip, with the jacuzzi in the room. Instead we find a honeymoon hotel that is pretty much of a dive, but it has this in its favor: a BIG heart-shaped tub with jacuzzi in the room. Middle-eastern owners send a bottle of champagne on ice. We fill the tub, pouring in some raspberry-flavored stuff which creates a large amount of bubbles. We sink our dusty, weary selves into a hot bath with raspberry bubbles piled high, and it's really pretty much perfect. The champagne, for all I know, has been re-chilled and is being sent now to some other couple in the same room or another. We go to Chevy's for dinner smelling like fruit.
T: It sort of looked like some kind of I-Love-Lucy episode, with the hot tub threatening to spill over the bubbles-that-invaded-Tahoe for a while there. Wonderful, and wonderful fun.
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