I lived at Lake Tahoe one year (1980), and after several days of snowstorms that dropped a few feet of powder, I sensed the weather was changing; I left my cabin and drove to the area above Incline Village and set out for the summit on cross-country skis while it was still completely overcast and snowing lightly. After a few hours, the wind lightened, the clouds began to part, and I approached the summit, passing small snow-and-ice encrusted trees along the way. Just as I came to the summit, the sun broke through, low in the western horizon. It was a spectacular moment. Placing the camera on a icy branch, I set the self-timer and skied out for this self-portrait.
Reluctantly, I had to leave as the sun set, since I had no headlamp and skiing down steep fresh powder in the twilight, with no shadows to give depth perception, was going to be tricky --- especially for a non-skier like me on those skinny skis with 3-pin bindings. On one of the first steep parts, I took a header, a ski caught something, and ripped the binding-connectors off of one boot. Repair attempts were fruitless, and it was several hours of floundering down in the powder, with the essentially useless ski miserably tied on with extra shoelaces and tape, under the starlit moonless night, before I reached my car. I was a day-night trip to remember.
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