ake Tahoe in
winter are boating and cruising, snow-shoeing and exploring, camping
for those whose souls are of sterner stuff, hunting, mountain
climbing, photography, and the enjoyment of winter landscape. Fishing
during the winter months is prohibited by law.

If one asks where to go, a bewildering group of trips and pleasures
appears. But there come forth speedily from out the number a few of
unsurpassed allurement. These are a _ski_ trip from Tallac to
Fallen Leaf Lake to see the breakers and the spray driven by a rising
gale against the rock-bound shore, and, when the lake has grown
quieter, a boat ride to Fallen Leaf Lodge beneath the frowning
parapets of Mount Tallac. Next a _ski_ trip up the Glen to the
buried hostelry at Glen Alpine, where one enters by way of a dormer
window but is received to a cheerful fire and with royal hospitality.

Then under the skillful guidance of the keeper, a day's climb up the
southern face of Mount Tallac for an unrivalled panoramic view from
its summit and a speedy but safe glissade back to the hostelry far,
far below.

And if the legs be not too stiff from the glissade, a climb over
the southern wall of the Glen to Desolation Valley and Pyramid Peak,
whence can be seen the long gorge of the Rubicon. The thousand lakes
that dot this region present no barrier to one's progress, for they
are frozen over and lie buried deep beneath the snow that falls here
in an abundance hardly exceeded elsewhere in the Tahoe region.

A close rival of these is the climb from Rubicon Park up the stately
range in its rear to visit the mountain hemlock, the graceful queen
of the high mountain, and to gaze across the chasm at the twin crags
beyond.

And peer of them all, though requiring but little exertion, is a trip
to Brockway to enjoy the unrivalled view of the "Land's End" of the
Lake and catch the colors of the pansies that are still in bloom in a
niche of the old sea wall. If one possess the artist's mood, he will
add thereto a boat ride round State Line Point in the lazy swell of
the evening sea beneath the silent pine-clad cliffs, while the moon,
as beautiful as any summer moon, rides overhead. Only the carpet of
snow and the film of ice that gathers from the spray upon the boat
keeps one alive to the reality that the season is winter.

Finally a rowing trip along the western shore of the Lake with stops
at pleasure _en route_. One can have weather to suit his taste,
for the waters on t