Where is Truckee, I hear you ask. It's near Lake Tahoe on the California and Nevada border in the High Sierras. What am I doing here? That's a better question. I felt that I needed to get away from San Francisco to think things through. I want to find some free space and try to make some decisions about what I'm doing with my life.

It turns out that Joy, the diva lesbian from my office, has a share on a Lake Tahoe home for the Season, and she gave me the key last night. The only question in my mind this morning was whether I could find the back and rear-side windows for my jeep. I'd had them out ever since the end of last Winter and had thought they were in the garage. But they were missing. With thoughts that the guy who was evicted must have stolen them, I was beginning to think that I wouldn't be able to make the drive (Tahoe already has snow). But I thankfully found them in my closet. For those of you who've never owned a Jeep Wrangler, you don't know what a pain it is to get the windows in and out. That's why I only do it a couple of times a year. That strategy only works here in California where there is no rain from March to November (except this year!)

Once I knew the jeep would be fine for the drive, I hustled around getting my stuff together. With the family below making even more noise than usual, forcing me to wear my CD walkman to drown it all, I was particularly happy to be getting away.

By 11.30 I was underway. It's over three hours to Tahoe, at 80 mph, so I wanted to get going as early as possible, to get there before dark. I didn't expect traffic today of all days. But for the first two hours or more it was on and off hell - I guess everyone was going to visit the folks or something.

On the road

Past Sacramento, though, the roads started to clear up, and as I ascended into the foothills of the Sierra, the trees reddening in the low Sun, I could get up some speed. It was exciting to see my first glimpse of snow in the distance - the first snow I've seen with my own eyes in years.

Snow on the peaks

I got to Truckee by four-thirty, just as it was starting to get dark. When I got out of my car and felt the cool air and the still silence, it took me straight back to my childhood. In the Winter I used to go for long cross-country walks with my Dad and our dog Sheba, across the Cleadon Hills. The only noise you could here was the slippery thud as your boots pressed through the snow. It wasn't like that here, of course; the snow was thin on the ground. But the stillness and the nip to the air was enough to evoke the memory.

Joy had told me there'd likely be nobody here. But there were three gen-x San Francisco people watching TV, along with three dogs, when I got in. I think they were as surprised as I was. At first, I felt that things would be awkward - one guy didn't even tell me his name. Now, though, an hour later, we're getting on great. They've invited me to join them for the incredible Thanksgiving dinner they're knocking up. Of course, two of them work for Internet startups, so I've already emailed them my resume - this is Northern California after all :)