A bit of Aspen in California’s Sierra

TIME was, I’d think of this old pioneer town in the Sierra’s eastern shadow and remember a buddy from my university days named Clay. A nice guy, that Clay, and smart too. But he had a fatal flaw, a blemish open to Darwinist taunts.

He hailed from Truckee.

Wasn’t Truckee, friends would razz, the coldest spot in the lower 48? Didn’t the Donners party there?

It has been nearly three decades, and goodness knows where poor Clay landed. But his hometown, the mountain burg once dominated by a hard-knuckle sawmill, is today a veritable vacation suburb of Silicon Valley, a place of huge second homes, golf courses and a dolled-up downtown. Contemporary Truckee is a base for ski bums and Gucci gals. Paul McCartney, the ex-Beatle, flits into town many a March.

We arrived at the start of the fall shoulder season, between the summer spillover from nearby Lake Tahoe and the winter ski crowds. It was to be a weekend of discovery -- a hunt for history, fall color and a bit of fine dining. We would also discover whether our daughters, Charlotte, 11, and Grace, 9, were ready for the polite confines of a bed-and-breakfast.

So, during the drive up the mountain, we held “the talk.” No fights. No screaming. No big noises.

“No fun?” the elder wondered.

As we crested the Sierra summit, Donner Lake spread out before us like a sapphire pool. Off to the east, Martis Valley lay golden under the sun. A traffic circle festooned with flowers directed us onto Truckee’s main drag. Brick buildings, some dating to the 1870s, have undergone whole-hog restorations, and the shops reflect an evolving sophistication mixed with small-town charm.

Off the lobby of the venerable Truckee Hotel we found Moody’s Bistro, a dark-wood jazz pub and trendy restaurant. This is the place where Paul croons a tune or two while on vacation.

There were no erstwhile Beatle sightings as we headed to the patio, the yellow-and-white awning flapping overhead in the breeze. The Cobb salad proved solid, the fish and chips inviting. But star billing went to my “lobster roll,” a French bun filled with a delightful mix of crustacean and garden vegetables.

Just up the main street, we wandered into the turn-of-the-century train depot, which doubles as a tourism bureau. Inside we learned the common belief is that Truckee got its name from a Paiute Indian chief who befriended early pioneers. In pre-refrigeration days, townsfolk here profited handsomely by selling ice harvested from nearby lakes and ponds.

Truckee’s oldest building, an 1863 log cabin, now serves as a real estate office. Just around the corner, an antique stone building -- once the community’s carriage house and blacksmith shop -- holds a snowboard shop. The 1875 Truckee Jail, used for nearly a century but now a museum, was shut.

Downtown boasted patisseries, curio shops, antiques stores and full-fledged galleries. Aspen-style gentrification is in full bloom -- a sore point among locals who have seen commercial rents skyrocket. But hints of pioneer simplicity remain. Truckee Variety Co. is still filled with toys you can’t find at a big retail chain -- an ark of miniature animals, wonderful balsa-wood gliders.

As the sun tilted west, we wheeled uphill one block to the Richardson House Bed and Breakfast Inn, an eight-bedroom Victorian built in the 1880s for a prosperous lumber family. A high-ceilinged entry was dominated by carved stairway banisters and century-old leather wallpaper hand-tooled by Chinese immigrants. Rooms were cushy and decorated with antiques, a few with claw-foot tubs.

We settled into adjacent rooms sharing a bath. On a getaway for two, I would have grabbed the Writer’s Room, an airy space with a luxurious canopy bed and a multi-pane view of downtown Truckee.

Dinner at Pacific Crest started well, with a table overlooking the sidewalk bustle. The restaurant was lovely to look at, with soft lighting mixing with rich woods and contemporary style. But our food -- an oven-fired pizza for the girls, Jenifer’s risotto, my roasted pork -- proved less inspired than the ambience.

Though the town has charms aplenty, its real beauty comes from the surrounding terrain.

Granite abounds. Sugar pines and cedars blanket the hills. Fall produces spectacular color displays.

We rented bikes at the entry to Squaw Valley and headed down the blacktop trail along the Truckee River. It proved an easy ride, mostly flat. And flat-out gorgeous. We were too early for changing leaves, but the riparian growth was stunning. The river bobbed with the season’s last rafters.

At River Ranch, an old-guard lodge and restaurant on a bend of foamy rapids, we parked the bikes for lunch. During the fall and winter, business moves inside the semicircular bar and restaurant. On warm days, folks hover outside like vultures in a hunt for a table overlooking the river.

Downriver and a short jog west, Donner Lake sparkles cobalt blue. Steep ridgelines hug the lake. This is the portal to the rugged Sierra pass that proved to be the undoing of the Donner Party over the long and brutal winter of 1846-47, when the pass was blocked by snow.

The ill-fated band’s epic saga of starvation, survival and cannibalism is detailed at the Emigrant Trail Museum, near the lake’s east edge. Trapped by snow piled two stories high, nearly half of the 87 members of the pioneer band died of cold and hunger.

True seekers of Donner lore should travel up California Highway 89 three miles north of Truckee to the Alder Creek picnic area, part of Tahoe National Forest. The families of George and Jacob Donner, separated from the bulk of the group by a broken wagon axle, were trapped in this meadow for half a year.

Back in town, Gracie donned her first pair of high heels for dinner at Dragonfly. Billy McCullough, the personable chef and owner, has created a formidable outpost of Cal-Asian cuisine in his brick-walled, second-floor downtown eatery. Our warm and efficient waitress kept dishing up the hits -- a lovely unagi, or eel, grilled flank steak salad for Charlotte, halibut with fig chutney and avocado-wasabi cream, and a perfect duet of blue marlin and snapper.

The next morning we headed home, winding up Donner Pass Road, between granite walls polished by ancient glaciers, across an antique concrete highway bridge over a yawning chasm of bare rock. Amazing.

We glanced back at Truckee, a speck in the distance, and it hit me. So much had changed over the decades -- the cute downtown, the commendable restaurants, the upscale merchants. No more was Truckee a bad college joke.

Our old pal Clay, it turns out, got the last laugh.

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The pioneer town, lately

GETTING THERE:

Reno has the airport closest to Truckee, Calif. Alaska and American fly there nonstop from LAX and Long Beach. Aloha Airlines flies nonstop from Santa Ana. Restricted, round-trip fares begin at $186.

Driving from Reno, take U.S. 395 north about one mile to Interstate 80 west. Go 32 miles to Truckee. From Los Angeles, it’s about a 500-mile trip north on Interstate 5, then east on Interstate 80 for 100 miles.

WHERE TO STAY:

Richardson House Bed & Breakfast Inn, 10154 High St., Truckee; (888) 229-0365, www.richardsonhouse.com. Eight rooms in an 1880s Victorian. Doubles $100-$175.

Truckee Hotel, 10007 Bridge St.; (800) 659-6921, www.thetruckeehotel.com. Historic downtown hotel with 37 rooms, $69-$89 with a shared bath; $109-$119 for rooms with a private bath.

WHERE TO EAT:

Moody’s Bistro, 10007 Bridge St., Truckee; (530) 587-5911. Trendy jazz club featuring upscale California cuisine. Dinner entrees $21 and up.

Pacific Crest, 10042 Donner Pass Road, Truckee; (530) 587-2626. Bistro dining combining Mediterranean, French and Asian. Entrees $10-$29.

River Ranch, Highway 89 at Alpine Meadows Road; (530) 583-4264. Century-old lodge with solid New West menu. Lunch entrees from $6. Dinner $17-$33.

Dragonfly, 10118 Donner Pass Road; (530) 587-0557. Balcony dining downtown, dynamic California-Asian fusion. Dinner entrees $19-$26.

CONTACT:

Truckee Donner Chamber of Commerce, 10065 Donner Pass Road, Truckee, CA 96161; (866) 443-2027, visitors@truckee.com, www.truckee.com.

-- Eric Bailey