Christmas in Markleeville

2:06 p.m, December 20th, 2009. I sat with Rai in my arms on a bench in Placerville probably the largest of all gateway towns to the central Sierra Nevada. Excited, I sat playing with you, Rai.
I was excited not only by the prospect of more than a week at the cabin but also knowing that from here on, the final hour and a half leg of the drive would be brilliant.
After Placerville, Highway 50 winds its way through ever-thickening forests of pine before making a final pass along granite cliffs to the Lake Tahoe basin. With plenty of snow in the mountains, this drive was even more breath-taking than usual. Two hours of this kind of commuting is heaven compared to two hours through the Central Valley. The best part of our journey to the cabin is that when the alpine forests just begin to thin out and give way to the homes and development of South Lake Tahoe, we turn off on Highway 89, heading for the incredibly beautiful Hope Valley.
On this day, as we made Luther Pass, we had the distinct feeling that this wasn't just another drive through the Sierra, to the cabin, but that we were embarking on a real journey, a real trip. The snow-capped peaks, the deep green of the giant pines against the white of the snow made us feel like we had traveled much further from home than we actually had.
A half hour later, when we pulled into Markleeville, this feeling was amplified. The tiny village, blanketed in snow, with holiday wreaths and bows on every tree and signpost made us feel as though we were arriving in some town in the Alps. The entire scene was like that perfect fairy tale village that is captured in many a winter snowglobe. We couldn't feel further from home.
Three miles beyond town, up the Hotsprings Road, we reached the Shay Creek, the historic tract of summer cottages in which our cabin sits. Spotting those rustic cabins hidden in the trees, we knew we had truly arrived in another world. And so, our first Christmas in Markleeville, at the new cabin, began...