seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Belgium
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Portugal
seen from Türkiye
seen from Denmark
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
gotta go with tallac! He’s popular, surrounded by friends, very good at giving you intense looks across the room (lake). Particularly beautiful in winter and spring. Wikipedia doesn’t have his exact age but I’m pretty sure he’s over 50, hard to say with some mountains though
tallac
Smash
Pass
YOTTO, Tallac – Chemtrail Surfers [Odd One Out] — Melodic House & Techno 2026
Between two stumps. #tallac #tahoeclarity (at Fallen Leaf Lake) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-S4UruBWOK/?igshid=1dwr4latq60pi
Your Family Groceries, 14th Ave., Sacramento, California
2007, 2011, 2019
I do more timelapse stuff on my @12billionyear account. Going to be focusing more on @geocachingwithskeight got this #timelapse on top of Twin Peaks, while filming for #geocachingwithskeight #laketahoegeocaching #geocachinglaketahoe #geocachingtahoe #tahoe #southlaketahoe #tallac #mounttallac #mttallac #twinpeakstahoe #laketahoe #tensecondtimelapse (at South Lake Tahoe, California)
Have not been posting much on this account. Focused on @geocachingwithskeight this #timelapse on top of Twin Peaks, while filming for #geocachingwithskeight #laketahoegeocaching #geocachinglaketahoe #geocachingtahoe #tahoe #southlaketahoe #tallac #mounttallac #mttallac #twinpeakstahoe #laketahoe #tensecondtimelapse (at South Lake Tahoe, California)
Merci Pedro! @edbanger @boobaofficial #b2o #edbanger #tallac #records #electro #rap #french #touch #vinyl #marche #ou #crève #nofilter (à De Gudde Wëllen)
Tallac
7/20
At 2:30am, we gathered outside the Lodge, conversing in hushed voices and sipping nervously at our Camelbaks. At almost 3:00am, Morgan led us away from camp, up the Nature Trail, and on the start of our journey.
The group quickly split into three, with Tony, Kyle, and a couple other people booking it at the front, a bunch of us sort of spread out in the middle, and a smaller group of stragglers. The trail, for the most part, is fairly straightforward if rocky and challenging, but it does get lost in a few places. We were never off the trail for long though; a little scrambling over rocks always brought us back to where we needed to be.
Many people hiked and chatted quietly. I walked alone and with only my own thoughts. There is so little time for that here that I simply didn’t feel like being social. Something about being on the trail in the light of the full moon also made me pensive and quiet. I hate to break the hush of early morning when I could just be listening to my breathing and the sound of the rocks shifting under my feet.
Mid-Tallac, the trail by which we ascended, is very exposed, which makes it rather awful for a midday hike but stunning for a midnight one. The full moon illuminated the scree softly, enough to see clearly to walk through the jumbled lunar landscape but still dim enough to retain the sense of tantalizing mystery that moonlit nights always have. From Mid-Tallac you can see across to various lakes and the opposing Angora mountain, Keith’s Dome, Indian Rock, and a few other peaks. Washed with moonlight, their edges weren’t quite crisp but they stood austere and pale and somehow more alive than they seem during the day. As I hiked breathlessly across the exposed face and up steep switchbacks, unsure of how far we’d come and how far we had to go, I felt suspended in time. Only the slow movement of the moon, and eventually the paling of the sky over the ridge, belied the continued passage of time in a concrete way.
About halfway up Mid-Tallac, or perhaps two-thirds of the way, I caught up with the front of the middle group. Hunter, Matt, Grace G., Grace L., a guest and I caught our breath before continuing on as a single group. Hunter was hiking with little twinkle lights wrapped around his legs, and up until that point had appeared like a will-o-the-wisp in the distance, flickering and teasing far up the trail, an impossible goal to reach but equally impossible not to pursue.
The higher we climbed, the colder and windier it got. I was warm enough hiking, but my hands were soon freezing. We passed through a meadow that shuddered as the wind gusted over wildflowers that were colorless in the moonlight. I knew logically, but never fully appreciated, how completely colors disappear in the dark until I found myself physically unable to recognize the hues of the flowers there. Most were species I hadn’t encountered before and therefore had no preconceived knowledge of what colors to expect.
Finally, we crested the ridge. The sky to the east was beginning to fade to pale grey, and behind us to the west the moon hung low in an increasingly starless wash of dusty blue. The wind whipped at us and my fingers were so cold I struggled to work my camera, but I managed to take a few photos before we moved on. The anticipation was thick as we filed along the spine of the mountain. We scrambled over rocks and ducked between gnarled trees, and as the night slipped away the colors returned. Shy shades of pink and yellow and purple returned to flowers that had appeared grey and white and black. The sky at the horizon glowed a lurid orange, a deep fiery hue reminiscent of the volcanic luminosity of Mordor in Lord of the Rings. It was at once ominous and beautiful.
From the ridgeline it was just a short hike and scramble to the very top of the mountain. We arrived with near-perfect timing, about 20 minutes before the sun broke from the horizon. The fastest group had already been there for almost an hour, attempting to stay warm in the wind. Megan, always amazing, had carried up mousefurs, champagne and orange juice, and Morgan, equally incredible, had a backpack full of extra layers for people as well as a box of doughnuts.
I snapped photos with frigid fingers, marveling at the contrast between the dawn sky to the east and the Neapolitan-like layers of blue, pink, and grey cradling the setting full moon to the west. Tahoe and Fallen Leaf shimmered in the incipient light below; Aloha lay like a splash of quicksilver in the distance behind us. As I sat munching on pastries and huddled in a mousefur with Hunter and Maddie, I could hardly think of a more perfect way to experience the break of day.
As the sun slipped into view and the lakes below reflected its splendor in a billion blinding sparks, Morgan stood on a craggy rock and gave a triumphant rooster crow. I couldn’t help but follow with a piercing Red-tailed Hawk cry. Everyone applauded us both, laughing and grinning with full-hearted satisfaction and joy derived from cold noses, tired muscles, and a stunning sunrise.
We spent a while longer on the mountain, taking pictures, Facetiming family (how surreal to talk with someone in China while on the top of a mountain?!??!), and gazing at the view. Then it was time to head back for people’s morning shifts. We scuttled down the Cathedral Trail at a slightly uncomfortable pace, slipping on rocks and kicking up clouds of dust. We rolled into camp just after 9, and I had just enough time to snarf down a granola bar and find a cherry Coke in the slounge before my art shift with the Yahoos. Of all days for the Fountain to be out of Yerbas!!!
Even with only the slight dose of caffeine the Coke offered, I was weirdly not tired that day. I guess there’s something to be said for witnessing the sunrise, and the adrenaline high that comes with summiting a mountain with a group of people you love.
