Kim Le and I took a short vacation to North Lake Tahoe over the new year to rest, refuel, snowboard, and celebrate our friend’s birthday. On our last night, after a full day of snowboarding followed by an excessive carb loaded dinner and four hours of king’s cup (favorite rule: must do jazz hands before drawing), I decided it was the best time to take some photos of the stars.
I put on my snowboarding clothes (yes, thermal underwear and all), got my gear and set out to the lake, only to arrive at a pitch black beach with no one around except for the sound of my pants swishing through the sand.
So I turned around, went back to the cabin and told the last two drunk friends still awake that I needed someone to wield a sharp object while I take photos of the epic sky. They happily (unwillingly) agreed, put on their thermals and accompanied me back to the black pit of sandy doom.
What resulted was an hour in 36 degree cold (felt like 14), lots of suspicious walking, and a series of photos, this being one of my favorites. Isn’t it amazing what our eyes can’t see?