We woke up right outside Tioga Pass, on the Eastern border of Yosemite. James took Krieger on a run and was met with this view as he turned around:
The eastern Sierras. We packed up DWABBT for the day's journey, which would include lunch on Lake Tahoe. Part of our daily ritual includes reconstructing Krieger's elaborate pillow throne in the backseat. #itshardouthereforaprince
He seems to enjoy it, though he does spend half the day on MJ's clawed-up lap.
Lunch in Tahoe was amazing. We grabbed burritos at a little cash-only joint called "T's Mesquite," and it was really the best kind of food that we could have hoped for in that moment. But Tahoe itself was pure chaos--a beautiful Saturday afternoon and everyone packing into their cars to enjoy the pristine, HUGE blue lake. James wanted to get a picture of the lake to share with everyone. Unfortunately, his singleminded enthusiasm resulted in us getting pulled over by a local CHP officer. We escaped, scot-free, after the officer made fun of James for the way he pronounced "Neh-VAH-dah" (for those of you out there, it is "Neh-VA-dah"). James insists that it was his "polite charm" that did the trick.
After leaving Tahoe, we decided to make a pit stop in Reno in order to ship a couple of straggling packages (rejected wedding shoes and what seemed like 10,000 tea candles) which had become the bane of James's existence. We couldn't help trying to take a series of pictures of the little Cricket next to this "cricket" sign, but he was more interested in rubbing his belly all long the cool patch of grass than starring in yet another photo op.
We ultimately decided that Reno was not for us. Maybe it has seen better days...but knowing anything about the Old West, it's probably essentially the same as it was in 1870.
We drove up to Rye Patch State Rec Area after DWABs had a close encounter with a tumbleweed. No joke--this is the photographic proof:
James and I settled in for the night and watched a lightning storm in the high desert as an evening show. It was incredible to see the valley laid out in front of us, mountains on either side, as lightning played on the edge of the horizon.
At night we had a Batdog sighting at the campground. With no chipmunks, squirrels, or cats to chase, the dark canine avenger looked forlornly over his terrain. Bids for the position as his sidekick or a archvillain are now being accepted, for any interested parties with Paypal accounts.
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