By Charlie Pankey | Sierra Rec Magazine
I live less than an hour from Lake Tahoe, yet like many locals, I tend to avoid the busy summer beaches. Still, every now and then, a special occasion calls for leaning into the very thing we usually steer clear of—playing tourist in our own backyard.
This past week, my family made our annual pilgrimage up Kingsbury Grade to Zephyr Cove. The occasion? A string of summer birthdays and one beautiful excuse to gather four generations together on the shore of the Jewel of the Sierra. It was one of those perfect July days—blue skies, light breeze, and water so clear it shimmered like glass.
We arrived around 11 a.m., paid our $12 to park, and headed down toward the sand with paddleboards, chairs, coolers, and our newest little explorer—our 8-week-old grandson. What surprised us immediately was how much of the beach had disappeared. With the lake sitting full from this past winter’s generous snowpack, only 4 to 6 feet of beach remained between the tree line and the water. It forced people to pack in shoulder-to-shoulder, towels barely a foot apart. And we quickly remembered why we usually prefer quieter Sierra lakes like Silver or Caples.
Still, the day had magic.
It was my first time paddleboarding on Lake Tahoe—a long-overdue moment considering we bought our Outdoor Master 10.5-foot board last year. We brought two boards, and our family took turns paddling along the shore while others swam, waded, or simply lounged. As i stretched out on the paddleboard 50 yards from shore I thought quickly of my conversation with Lisa Michelle and her story of circling Lake Tahoe on Paddleboard. I just don’t think it is possible for me, but I can see the allure.
The highlight? Watching our grandson dip his toes in Lake Tahoe for the very first time. The kind of moment that turns into a family legend, captured in photos of four generations enjoying a timeless Sierra tradition.
Zephyr Cove was alive with activity. We watched the iconic paddle wheeler head out across the lake, while a steady stream of visitors rented kayaks and paddleboards from the shoreline booths. The buzz of summer was everywhere—kids squealing in the shallows, dogs fetching tennis balls from the surf, the smell of sunscreen and grilled food drifting on the breeze. In many ways, it was a picture-perfect Tahoe day.
Until about 3 p.m.
That’s when the crowds surged. People began setting up right next to us—literally within inches of our towels and gear. At one point, someone’s chair leg was nearly on my blanket. Gone was any sense of personal space. You couldn’t leave your spot without stepping over strangers or wading out into the lake to go around. It felt less like a relaxing beach day and more like a packed concert lawn with nowhere to breathe.
So we did what any sane local would do—we packed up, wrangled our sun-soaked crew, and made our retreat down the hill. Back in Minden, we capped the day with a family dinner at Cook’d, full of laughter, stories, and that lingering joy of shared experience.
In the end, was it a perfect day? Not quite. But was it worth it? Absolutely.
There’s something about Tahoe that always delivers, even amid the chaos. Maybe it’s the clarity of the water, the scale of the mountains, or simply the weight of memory layered on every visit. Yes, I’ll still head to quieter waters when I can. But this was a day I’ll remember—not because it was easy, but because it was real, shared, and full of love.
And that, in the Sierra, is always enough.
