It struck me as the sort of place where on would say “out-of-doors”. The weather didn’t really let us spend much time outside but it did feel out of doors. Maybe “outdoorsy”, but anyone who reads Outside Magazine, or climbs mountains, or kayaks great distances, or wears Gore-Tex, would probably not call it outdoors.
There was little to no dirt involved. In this instance I was happy about that.
Lake Arrowhead is tucked up in the mountains near Big Bear and also near about a bazillion people down in L.A. It is also at the top of some incredibly winding roads that are propped up against cliffs by stilts which encourages most of those bazillion people to stay home.
Their loss.
We only stayed a couple nights. It was cold outside. It rained. It was wonderful.
The wood paneled boats of yesteryear’s luxury movie shoots were all tucked somewhere else waiting for the summer. The tourists were doing the same. But the chef, the filet, and the stuffed portabello mushrooms with balsamic glaze were there. Until I got there and now those things are happily gone.
Happy for me at least.
The surrounding shops smack of 1950’s kitsch, complete with cartoon bears wearing suspenders. I’m not sure why, but here, I didn’t mind. It worked. I hate that stuff, but, it worked. Weird.
Its called the Lake Arrowhead Resort and Spa. It is also called gorgeous.
Brohammas 