At last the lake burst upon us, a noble sheet of blue water . . . walled in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered aloft full 3,000 feet higher still. As it lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly photographed upon its still surface, I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.
So wrote Mark Twain about Lake Tahoe, a 22-mile-long scenic jewel 150 miles northeast of San Francisco, and so the lake remained until about a decade ago. But it lies athwart...
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