Early August up at Squaw Valley
Early August up at Squaw Valley. The base area still wears the Olympic rings from the 1960 Winter Games, and the big lift-status board by the ticket window lists every run even though it's the middle of summer — Red Dog, KT-22, Cornice II, all of it waiting for snow.
We rode the aerial tram up from Base Camp, about a mile and a half of cable from 6,200 feet to High Camp at 8,200. The village and the parking lots shrank fast under the car, and then it was all granite — rounded boulders, wind-twisted pines growing straight out of the rock, a dead snag or two. Looking back down the valley from the top, the ridges stacked up in haze with Lake Tahoe a pale flat shape behind them.
On the way back down the cables ran out ahead of us to a single tower planted on a rocky knob, and past that, nothing but the valley floor.