For Thursday, April 27, 2000 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 737 words


An Easter ordeal


   My wife and I walked 14 miles on Easter Sunday. We were not
backpacking. It was not a religious pilgrimage. We walked to
the casinos in Tahoe, from Camp Richardson. We were on holiday
alone for a change, away from family, looking for rest in peace.
   Readers unfamiliar with South Lake Tahoe will just have to
believe that these two points are far apart. Those familiar will
understand how far it is from Highway 89 below the Y in California
down that long stretch of Highway 50 to the Nevada state line.
   Those familiar should also be saying about now, "Yes, Steve,
that is a long way, but it's not 14 miles."
   True. However, after walking from one side of South Lake Tahoe
to the other, after sitting at Harvey's casino playing slots
and watching the first half of the Kings-Lakers basketball game,
after resting our tired feet, we walked back to Camp Richardson.

   Actually, I'm using Camp Richardson as a familiar landmark.
We have a cabin not far from there, and a vehicle with plenty
of gas parked in the driveway. Why didn't we drive?
   It was because we didn't know where we were going. We left
the cabin at 11 a.m. to take a casual Easter stroll through the
neighborhood. One of our favorite pastimes in Tahoe is to walk
the residential areas and admire houses.
   Tahoe real estate is unique. No two houses look alike. Some
are cabins and some are fulltime residences. Some are made of
logs and river rocks, others are clapboard mansions; some sit
right on the road with large backyards, others are set far back
with long driveways; some have tall fences surrounding them with
"Keep Out" signs posted on every other tree; others are wide
open with no boundary markers.
   We did our usual loops, and then ventured into a new neighborhood,
further east. We saw stunning architecture and proceeded. We
found ourselves on a bike path and followed it through a pasture.
We came out in a seedy neighborhood full of small rickety houses
with too many cars parked in front. Little girls in Easter dresses
played with sticks in an empty lot.
   We passed auto repair shops, chiropractors, electrical contractors,
and Houses of Hair saloons. We walked behind motels and gas stations.
Eventually we came onto Tahoe's permanent amusement park, closed
and vacant on this sacred holiday.
   "Wow," said Susan. "We're way down here." We stopped and looked
behind us. We fathomed the distance. This was quite a stroll.
Feeling strong, energetic, and hungry, we decided to walk to
Dennys for our Easter meal.
   Dennys was crowded with large families that had apparently
decided it wasn't fair for the few mothers in their groups to
have to cook for everybody. Instead they keep the waitresses
and short-order chefs humping. We had breakfast Slams as our
Easter faire. Outside, feeling stuffed, we decided to walk it
off by continuing, this time meandering through the neighborhoods
on the other side of Highway 50.
   Seeing the casinos eventually in the distance we agreed to
make that our final destination. We would take a bus back to
the house. Upon leaving the casinos, we discovered an obvious
fact. It was a holiday. The busses were not running. We considered
a taxi for a second, but it seemed too decadent. So, we walked.
   About three miles along, our bodies fell apart. I developed
huge blisters on my right foot and had to go barefoot. Susan's
ankles stiffened. Her neck developed a kink. My thighs began
to chaff. Our knees ached. Our hips creaked. Our lips cracked.
The sun was setting. We had miles to go.
   For the last mile, we didn't talk. We groaned. Sometimes we
laughed at our predicament. It was a weak, pathetic laugh. We
passed couples strolling the other way. We wanted to tell them
why we looked so miserable, to explain ourselves, but we hadn't
the strength.
   The last half-mile was the worst. Our joints no longer bent,
they bowed. We leaned on each other, and dragged our feet. Inside
the cabin door at last, we turned on the TV and collapsed into
the nearest chairs. The TV was way too loud, but we didn't have
the strength to get up and reduce the volume. We sat catatonic
for an hour, then split a can of soup and hobbled off to bed.
It was an Easter to remember.