Last week, I was driving on a country road through a sun-dried valley where the high desert climbs into the mountains. This is the so-calledย Lost Sierra, the swath of mountains, rivers and forest north of Truckee and Lake Tahoe, and true to its name, when the sagebrush turned into pine, I felt far away from everywhere.ย
But then the trees cleared, and suddenly a golf course appeared, impossibly green, like a manicured mirage in the middle of the mountains.ย
Iโd arrived in Graeagle, a small town thatโs little more than a cluster of quaint red cabins and white trim and might possibly be the happiest place in the Lost Sierra. Those cabins have been here, looking exactly as they do today โ minus the fresh coat of paint โ for a century.
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