After four consecutive winters visiting Jordan in his snowy wonderland Lake Tahoe home, Beth and I finally had the opportunity to see the big, blue lake--and my big brother--in the summertime splendor.

The jewel of the West was every bit as beautiful in July as it was in February or March, but it had a substantially different vibe.

Skiers on the slopes were replaced by jet skiers on the surface of the lake, and the water was busy with all sorts of sports enthusiasts.

Rather than rent jet skis or our own motorboat by the hour, Jordan, Beth and I hopped aboard the Tahoe Queen, a historic paddlewheel ship for a tour of the lake. It would be the first time in many visits that I would actually go onto the lake herself.

Complete with a guide dressed impeccably as Mark Twain, the tour was great fun. Twain himself spoke from his own experience exploring the land in the 1860s. (The author also known as Samuel Clemmens wrote a book on his travels here, Roughing It.) With a cigar in his mouth and a drink in his hand, the tall, thin, mustachioed Twain reminded me of my friend Orf--in about 30 years.

At right, Jordan and I grin in Emerald Bay while I sip from my extremely strong emerald bay, a gift from an employee of the Tahoe Queen, one of many of Jordan's extended network of friends in the Tahoe area.

Later we watched the Tahoe July 4th fireworks up by Jordan's new condo. From about 9,000 feet we actually looked down on the colorful explosions going off above the lake. The fireworks seemed anticlimactic and small, especially compared to the displays Beth and I had seen in NYC, at Phish shows, and in Seattle, but we still enjoyed ourselves immensely. I used the pro-America opportunity to scream anti-Bush messages in the stateline of the swing state.

For those who care, Lake Tahoe is not only known for snow and water sports but also for the growing game of disc golf. Bumping into a friend in Fire Island a week before the honeymoon, I was told I had to go to Tahoe to play on their courses. Little did he know at the time that I already had it all mapped out--three epic courses encircle the lake, and we hit each one.

Our foray into the world of Tahoe disc golf began at the Zephyr Cove, on the Nevada side of the Lake. This was the course that was specifically recommended from nearly 3,000 miles away on an island in the Atlantic. Jordan's friend George met us by the first tee, with another buddy who was hiking the entire 2,650-mile Pacific Coast trail from Mexico to Canada.

The course itself was stunning and worthy of the recommendation; views of the crystal-blue lake followed us up and down the elevated course, and the terrain was awesome.

The four of us attacked the course, but the course attacked us back. The ground was covered with harsh vegetation that both hid our discs and scratched up our shins. (pdga.com warned us of the manzanitas, but we were ill-prepared for the intensity of the course in general.

The extreme elevation change caused many discs to float far away (I lost two discs), and the hiking was more challenging than we anticipated. We didn't bring enough water for the 18-hole course, and we left the course dehydrated, missing discs, and cut up by the manzanitas.

Kirkwood got creative with the pins. Pin 8 stood on top of a long, long, long, long, long, long, log. Pin 12 actually stood in the hollowed out stump of a tree.

But the ultimate had to be Tee 16. Most pins lay 300 feet from the tee. Maybe 400 feet, rarely more. This pin stood an insane 1,200 feet from the tee--almost a quarter mile!

The second half of the course led us up the mountain, but tee 16 was the turnaround. We faced downward and hoped for a long carry. Check out a video of George driving on this tee by clicking here. Me, I missed the opportunity to hit par. Next time, for sure.