An ode to sundecks, Tahoe's most underappreciated attraction

For those of us feeling the weight of the pandemic, Tahoe’s most underappreciated attraction might help. Vitamin D is no cure for depression, but sitting in the sun makes me feel better every time. This is one of the perks about being in Tahoe. If it’s not snowing, it’s sunny. One of the best ways to experience those 300 days of sunshine a year is on a sundeck perched high above the ski slopes, with lounge chairs lined up in a row.

With the pandemic, sundecks are taking on new meaning and ski resorts are experiencing a renaissance of tailgate culture. On a Sunday afternoon, the parking lot at Alpine Meadows could easily be mistaken for a camper van reunion. Sprinter vans were lined up one next to the other, with the back doors wide open and crews of people hanging out in camp chairs, grabbing beverages from a cooler. Other groups of people were literally camped out, with tents and all, on a flat bank of snow that’s been dubbed “Subway Beach.” And the name is appropriate. People were laying out and baking in the sun. It’s a vibrant, heartening scene as we near the end of the pandemic, a trend that I hope stays well into the After Times when we finally make it out of the pandemic. But please, wear sunscreen with a high SPF. The sun is much stronger at high altitude and that rosy glow you’re feeling will quickly turn into a mean red.

Skiing has a long, lovely history of harnessing the healing power of warm, sunny days in the middle of winter.

It starts with a Swiss hotelier named Johannes Badrutt, who ran a guesthouse in St. Moritz in the mid-19th century. St. Moritz was a popular summertime destination for city tourists, but they’d all pack up and leave for London as soon as the weather turned. As the story goes, Badrutt tried to convince some of his guests to come back in December, selling them on idyllic winter afternoons. If they didn’t enjoy their time, Badrutt said he’d reimburse their travel expenses. Four Englishmen took him up on the offer. They came back to St. Moritz in December and wound up staying for the whole winter. Some say this is how winter recreation was born. And the tradition carries on today. The Alps continue to set the bar for sunbathing at high altitude.

The mid-19th century was also a time when epidemics, especially tuberculosis, were rampant. As Lyra Kilston writes in her book "Sun Seekers: The Cure of California," some doctors instructed sick patients to flee polluted cities and head to environments with fresh air, where they could take in the sun. To meet the demand, large spa hotels were built with balconies and sundecks to serve their ailing visitors who craved sunlight. Outdoor spaces were built before this trend, but Kilston credits these spa hotels, or sanitariums, for building decks and porches specifically for sunbathing. California, especially, was known as the “Sanitarium of the World.”

Now, Californians hardly need any excuse to lay out in the sun. But it can still feel a bit strange to go sunbathing in the middle of winter, surrounded by snow.

In a lot of ways, a good sundeck is like the beach. It’s drenched in sunlight and located on the edge of a great body of (frozen) water. Sundecks were built for people to sprawl out and soak in the warmth.

There are a few key elements that define a good sundeck. The first, and probably the most important, is the aspect. Is it facing the optimal direction to catch the most amount of sunlight?  Usually this means that it’s oriented to the south or the southwest, but it also needs to be out in the open, like on a bluff. Nothing ruins a good sundeck like a cluster of pine trees blocking out the mid-afternoon light. And the moment the sun dips behind the mountains, the experience is over. Even on the warmest days of winter, as soon as the sun goes, temperatures drop dramatically.

Another factor to consider is the ambiance. Which one you should go to really depends on your mood. Missing the beach? High Camp at Squaw Valley is your answer, with a hot tub, an umbrella bar and lawn chairs lined up in front of a dazzling view of the ski slopes. For panoramic lakeviews, pull up an Adirondack chair at Homewood’s Big Blue View Bar or try Heavenly’s Tamarack Lodge. Feeling nostalgic? Sitting down at the Chalet at Alpine Meadows can transport you to a Bavarian hut in the Alps.

There are days when all I want to do is bliss out for a moment of solace. On those days, I go skiing not for the sport, but because it’s a means of transport to get to the mid-mountain lodge. And like I did the other day, I find a sunny, empty spot to melt in. I wholeheartedly embrace the term “fair-weather skier.” I am, after all, in California. There’s no shame in saying that I’m here purely for the sunshine.

And then there are days when I’m feeling more social. In Tahoe, sun decks are often equated with après ski, the time-honored tradition of partying after skiing. (Is there any other sport with a word for the party that happens afterward?) Le Chamois at the bottom of Squaw Valley is perhaps Tahoe’s most famous après ski bar. A Saturday afternoon here is packed with people and pups. At the Chammy, as it’s called, many of the dogs are just as social as the humans, and that’s part of its charm.

“[Après] is the single greatest part of skiing,” said Mike Rogge, an Alpine Meadows skier and the publisher of Mountain Gazette, a magazine that has chronicled mountain culture since the 1960s. “Sure it’s fun on the hill, but off hill is where memories are made and the biggest tales in skiing and riding are told.”

It’s important to note that you don’t have to go skiing to experience Tahoe’s sundecks. Many decks and patios are attached to restaurants around the basin — having lunch at a lakefront deck is the definition of a perfect afternoon.

You also don’t really need a deck, at all. I mean, the bare essentials are some camp chairs, or maybe just a tarp, and a patch of snow. Bring some water, definitely some sunscreen. Sit back, relax and let the sun work its magic.