Solus
again reigns supreme. And then! ah, then is the time to see Lake Tahoe
and its surrounding country. The placid summer views are exquisite
and soul-stirring, but what of Tahoe now? The days and nights are free
from wind and frost, the sun tempers the cold and every hour is an
exhilaration. The American people have not yet learned, as have the
Europeans in the Alps, the marvelous delights and stimulations of the
winter in such a place as Lake Tahoe. But they will learn in time, and
though a prophet is generally without honor in his own country, I will
assume a role not altogether foreign, and venture the assertion that
I shall live to see the day when winter visitors to Lake Tahoe will
number more than those who will visit it throughout the whole of the
year (1914) in which I write. One of the surprises often expressed
by those I have met here who have wintered in the Alps is that no
provision is made for hotel accommodation during the winter at Lake
Tahoe.

To return, however, to the charms of Tahoe that are already known to
many thousands. Within the last two or three decades it has become the
increasingly popular Mecca of the hunter, sportsman, and fisherman;
the natural haunt of the thoughtful and studious lover of God's great
and varied out-of-doors, and, since fashionable hotels were built, the
chosen resort of many thousands of the wealthy, pleasure-loving and
luxurious. What wonder that there should be a growing desire on
the part of the citizens of the United States--and especially of
California and Nevada--together with well-informed travelers from all
parts of the world, for larger knowledge and fuller information about
Lake Tahoe than has hitherto been available.

To meet this laudable desire has been my chief incitement in the
preparation of the following pages, but I should be untrue to my own
devotion to Lake Tahoe, which has extended over a period of more than
thirty years, were I to ignore the influence the Lake's beauty has had
over me, and the urge it has placed within me. Realizing and feeling
these emotions I have constantly asked with Edward Rowland Sill:

What can I for such a world give back again?

And my only answer has been, and is, this:

Could I only hint the beauty--
Some least shadow of the beauty,
Unto men!

In looking over the files of more of less ephemeral literature, as
well as the records of the explorations of early days, I have been
astonished at the rich treasu