Editor’s note: Club Tahoe Association’s hiring of Grand Pacific Resorts has been updated below.
Club Tahoe Resort, a nearly 50-year-old timeshare tucked away off Northwood Boulevard in Incline Village, is going through a cannibalization of sorts:
Two boards, neither of which recognizes the other; a legal complaint (submitted by resort owners against “old” board members) working its way through Washoe County’s Second Judicial District Court; a transition in management companies that ended with the previous company, Tricom Management, being ordered by a judge to relinquish control; and legal fees being paid for by those who are litigating in the first place.
As the infighting continues, many owners are worried a larger goal is at hand: the purposeful deterioration and ultimate sale of the resort, shades of which have recently happened to neighboring timeshare resorts.
“It seems to be the same trajectory in all these places,” said Mona Ogden, an owner at Club Tahoe and the mind behind a “Save Club Tahoe” effort. “They just stop doing maintenance and let it fall into such a state of disrepair that owners give up … We’ve tried everything, reports [and other ways of notifying various state and local agencies], and the resounding response is, not my department; you need to go hire a lawyer.
“In a timeshare model, how are you going to hire a lawyer? How are you going to coordinate thousands of people to pitch in money toward a one-week thing they own? They’ll just give up. They’re not going to invest money in it. We are unprecedented and highly unusual in getting as far as we’ve gotten.”
The kindling to that success stems from emotional as well as financial investments, according to those who spoke with Moonshine.
“I like to say it’s a home away from home,” said owner Dina Fitch, whose parents were original owners at Club Tahoe, purchasing a unit in 1978. “It’s a generational resort. My family’s on technically our third generation … When I had gone up as a teenager I had made friends with some people, and I am still friends with one of the guys. I met him when I was 16. He’s one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
Brian Arnold is another owner whose parents were original purchasers; he began visiting Club Tahoe when he was 8 or 9. “I’ve basically been going up there once a week for 50 years,” he said. “Ultimately, I feel I’m being screwed out of a financial asset that my family has owned. It’s not as much of [an asset] because, at the end of the day, it’s not a lot of money. But it’s just not being able to use it. If we don’t have this, if we don’t have Club Tahoe for my family, we likely won’t be going back up there because of the cost of other nearby units or hotels or anything else.”
Fitch and Arnold are both part of Club Tahoe’s recall board, president and treasurer, respectively. Meanwhile, the original board — the one the Save Club Tahoe group considers replaced — also remains active.
The dual existence of boards, which neither of them acknowledges, is causing a paralysis of Club Tahoe Resort operations. The current management company, Grand Pacific Resorts (GPR), stated in a Feb. 4 notice to all owners that it is committed to remaining neutral amid board confusion. Without a formal 2026 budget, GPR is utilizing the association’s 2025 operating budget numbers in the interim. Amid all the red tape, no clear answer exists as to what the next few months, let alone year and a half, will bring. A possible 50-year termination of the resort is outlined in the original bylaws.
Jason Gamel, president of the American Resort Development Association (or ARDA), called what’s happening with Club Tahoe an “unusual situation.”
“It’s rare to see an actual effort to recall the entire board and elect a new one or have another one in place,” he said. “It’s rare to see that.”
Timeshares still timely?
The concept has been around in the U.S. for 52 years, yet timeshares have not gone the way of the dodo bird.
The standard model allows the purchase and utilization of a recurring interval, usually a specific week each year, at a vacation resort. The average price in 2024 for a timeshare transaction was $23,160, per ARDA, with an average $1,260 in annual maintenance fees.
At Club Tahoe, the last interval sold (week 2 of each year) went for $3,367.80 in 2021. The 2026 annual maintenance fee (based on 2025 numbers) is $830, with the possibility of rising if/when this year’s budget is finalized.
In the U.S., timeshare occupancy returned to pre-pandemic levels for the first time in 2024; ARDA reported that sales volume saw $10.5 billion, with the average occupancy at 80%.
“We’ve had a lot going on in the industry,” said Gamel, who’s served in his position for six years now. ARDA, he told Moonshine, has been “involved in almost every law that’s been written on the books on timeshares. We’ve helped every state in one way, shape, or form along with some other regulatory agencies.”
While timeshares back in the early days were born on the wave of independent developers buying a resort or two and sustaining their own sales and marketing, the ’80s and ’90s are when major brands started joining the fray.
“Hilton, Disney Vacation Club [were] the early ’90s, for instance,” Gamel said. “You had Marriott, who entered the game in the ’90s, and when that happened, all of a sudden, they started acquiring resorts … As time has gone on, and the cost of real estate has gotten really expensive, which really started in the 2000s and maybe even the 2010s. If we look at what was happening then, people weren’t doing as much development of their own properties, but a lot more corporate acquisitions, then consolidate.”
Today’s landscape has only a handful of major “active sales” developers, including Marriott, Westgate Resorts, Disney Vacation Club, and Holiday Inn Club.
George De Laurentis is a licensed real estate agent with Coldwell Banker Select Real Estate. He’s lived in South Lake Tahoe since 1977 and has worked in real estate and timeshare sales for over two decades.
“I worked for every company in South Shore that has sold timeshares, from the Ritz Tahoe to the Stardust to the Americana to the Marriott properties, Wyndham properties,” he said. “That’s the nature of the game. When one resort opens, all the agents go to the new resort [until] they get low on inventory.”
Now, De Laurentis works in independent sales for Coldwell, with clients who want to resell their Marriott timeshares. “I rep people who’ve bought [their timeshare] from the developer or inherited it, or they were given to them. Those [last two groups] tend to not have paid anything for it and therefore they’re in a position to get rid of it … [and] price it cheaper than anyone.”
The younger generations have gained their own footing in the industry, helping maintain momentum since the initial heyday of timeshare growth (36% from 1974 to 1984; see the ARDA graph above). In 2022, ARDA reported that Gen Z and Millennials accounted for 57% of all timeshare owners, and 53% of new sale purchasers.
De Laurentis gave perspective on today’s timeshare pitches, describing an oft-used approach of the time and energy put into planning vacations. “It’s spring break — how far in advance did you make those reservations?” he asked. “A smart person who goes during prime time, you’ve got to make the reservation 8 to 12 months in advance … Once you can get someone to admit that’s something they do, then a timeshare works.
“Somebody wants to come to Tahoe this Fourth of July and they don’t have a reservation right now; there’s nothing for them. Yes, you can reserve timeshares spur-of-the-moment … if you can jump on a plane and pay high airline tickets and run up to the resort three weeks in advance, you can do that, but I wouldn’t plan a major vacation that way.”
The oldest timeshare resorts tend to be the smallest in size, have the lowest occupancy, and the lowest billed maintenance fees, per the ARDA’s State of the Vacation Timeshare Industry 2025 study.
“The industry is currently undergoing an accelerated phase of winding down older and dysfunctional timeshare resorts, which has caused the overall resort and unit counts to decrease by about 5% since 2020,” the report stated. “This may ultimately serve to improve the overall health of the timeshare ecosystem.”
The legacy of Club Tahoe
Club Tahoe Resort opened its doors in 1978, four years after the U.S. timeshare industry’s inception. The resort consists of 93 units (with 51 interval weeks per unit), tennis courts, a pool area, parking, and a main clubhouse. In the past, owners have enjoyed discounted passes to Diamond Peak and access to Burnt Cedar, a residents-only beach in Incline Village.
Club Tahoe is known as a legacy or independent resort, meaning it’s not owned or represented by a known hospitality brand (like Marriott or Disney, for example). Up until 2014, it was self-managed, with various operations stayed in-house — like rental revenue, association dues, and accounting.
Tera Taylor began her Club Tahoe connection as a staff member before becoming a member over a decade later. In 2008, she started working in the resort’s office as a satellite office manager for a different timeshare exchange company. After about a year, the then-general manager for Club Tahoe offered her the position of on-grounds clubhouse manager.
“I took on that role,” she said. “I worked there and then I moved my way up to general manager. I worked there for about 16 years, up until March of 2024.”
Taylor grew up watching her mom manage a timeshare resort in Kings Beach. Post-Club Tahoe, she still works in the business, though in Sacramento.
In 2014, Club Tahoe Resort Association’s board of directors hired timeshare management company Tricom Management, based in Anaheim, to take over operations. This move shifted some responsibilities for the on-site staff like Taylor — no more accounting department, no more handling rentals, or invoicing, though she says her job as a manager day-to-day stayed the same (checking people in, quality control inventory, and so on).
As a direct and proximate result of Counter-defendants’ intentional interference, the Association has suffered and continues to suffer damages, including operational paralysis, vendor confusion, exposure to contractual liability, reputational harm, and increased administrative and legal costs.”
~ Defendants’ answer to amended complaint
While the shift to a corporate, bottom-dollar-driven mindset was challenging, Taylor said the first years under Tricom went well. Then, Covid-19 happened.
“They laid off a bunch of employees at Tricom [across the country], and I felt like things started really circling the drain and we weren’t getting the attention that we needed at the property,” she explained. “I was working a million hours, and the board wanted things done and they were telling the management company, and they were telling me, and I was working above and beyond. When things didn’t get done, I felt like I was kind of the pawn in the middle that was left holding the bag.”
Owners also noticed the pandemic impacts, specifically a “decline and lack of repairs,” Arnold said. “As simple as the blinds; they have these vertical slats and one or two would break and fall off. People — me and other owners in that same unit — submitted a maintenance request. Then a year later you go back up and it’s still there.”
Various complaints have been collected: rodent infestations, broken appliances, crumbling stairs, flooding, the closure of amenities like the racquetball court and sauna.
This awareness has led to concern over the possibility of a timeshare trend: Independent timeshare resorts faced with rising maintenance costs and aging owner bases often opt for termination and sale.
“What appears to happen is the physical properties are allowed to deteriorate, and they’re not maintained until there’s a point to which owners can’t afford a special assessment,” Ogden said. “If you can’t afford the special assessment, what is there left to do? These properties, they’re all worth a lot of money. And Incline Village is the premier location in Tahoe itself.”
South Lake Tahoe’s Tahoe Summit Village timeshare owners faced a version of this situation. In October 2024, owners received letters from the board informing them that a special assessment of $56,236 per interval week was due by each association member. Such an assessment was intended to “cover anticipated carrying costs through Dec. 31, 2024,” per the letter. Alternatively, owners could relinquish their intervals without having to pay the special assessment. Ultimately, the timeshare resort closed.
Taylor and others interviewed assert that while old, Club Tahoe had healthy financial reserves up until Tricom entered the picture and the pandemic hit. “It’s almost like they were just holding us back,” she said.
During the years of the pandemic, Taylor added that delinquent units re-obtained by the Club Tahoe association via Tricom weren’t being resold. In reviewing Tricom’s contract, section 3.9 required the company “to find purchasers for no less than fifty (50) Intervals per year.” Failure to meet the quota meant a penalty charge of $500 per interval from Tricom to the association.
“We asked the [old] board multiple times to confirm whether Tricom reimbursed Club Tahoe for any quota shortfall, and [board member] Marc Pearl cited the lack of reimbursement (along with other reasons) as a basis for [eventually] terminating Tricom,” Arnold explained in an email. “If those payments were owed or received, they should be reflected in the association’s accounting records and financial statements, but I do not see any corresponding income in the 2023 or 2024 audited financials.”
According to county records currently available, Tricom did not sell any interval weeks after Oct. 21, 2021. The sole (partial) exception was two peak weeks (one summer, one winter), which original board member Marc Pearl acquired in summer 2023. According to owners, Pearl said he only paid transfer fees for the intervals. This move, as was explained by Pearl in a later owner call, was meant to be the impetus of a larger movement to transfer unused association weeks back to owners free of charge, to then turn them into dues-paying weeks. But per owners, such a policy has never been implemented.
In late 2024, Club Tahoe’s board terminated the Tricom contract, on the basis of poor performance. The company then turned around and sued the association for improper termination.
Judge Scott Freeman of the Second Judicial Court of the State of Nevada denied Tricom’s motion and dismissed its complaint in August 2025. Shortly after, Grand Pacific Resorts (GPR), which had been hired in February 2025, began actively managing Club Tahoe’s operations.
As recently as January 2026, one Club Tahoe owner was told by GPR staff at the front desk that Tricom’s relinquishment of the association included leaving bills unpaid.
Team ‘Save Club Tahoe’
Save Club Tahoe is a movement of 600 to 800 of the roughly 4,600 possible owners.
Ogden lit the proverbial match after she experienced a series of frustrations: an application to become a board member that she was told “must’ve been lost,” aggressive actions toward a Club Tahoe staff member, the association’s hiring of unlicensed contractors who caused a sewage leak, and board members unwilling to rectify or address various situations.
There was also talk of the then-board, made up of the original board minus three, using their positions for special favors — such as Pearl’s obtaining peak weeks in July 2023.
After a particularly contentious April 2024 meeting with two board members, Ogden said, “I went home and just started calling and emailing every owner I could think of and launched this group.”
The first true organized attempt to “save” Club Tahoe took place in April 2025, when, Ogden says, there was “enough critical mass to decide that we were going to come again to Club Tahoe for this annual meeting, and we were going to do an in-person recall, because the bylaws stated that if we had a certain amount of participation there, we would prevail.”
To formally recall board members, the bylaws require a “duly convened regular or special meeting” and “the affirmative vote of the voting members casting no less than two-thirds (2/3rds) of each class of votes present at said meeting, and a successor may then and there be elected to fill the vacancy thus created.” This first recall effort failed because it was procedurally invalid and violated the resort’s governing documents and Nevada state law.
At the same time, the Tricom litigation was taking place. The management company would normally assist with general election notification, hosting, and oversight, but that did not happen. The original board is claiming by way of counsel that “any alleged procedural irregularity in that election” would have occurred because of Tricom’s undermining of the association’s ability to hold the election.
This was part of the reason the board chose to change voting from in-person to online. Others, as claimed in a June 2025 email from the board to Club Tahoe owners, were for safety in light of violent threats, and better accessibility for voter engagement.
From the election emerged the following board members, expanded from four to seven: Keith Wilson (incumbent), Gloria DeAlba (incumbent), Donald Wall (incumbent), Robert Vermeltfoort, Marc Pearl (incumbent), Keith Ogden (married to Mona Ogden), and Christine Becker. Vermeltfoort resigned from his position in October 2025.
It is against these board members, and the Club Tahoe Resort Owners Association itself, that Club Tahoe owners Lawrence Garvey and Robert Payton (a member of the October 2025 recall board) filed a complaint. They include claims of breaches of governing documents, of duty of good faith and fair dealing, of fiduciary duties, the improper transfer of reserve funds, and more. As of press deadline, there is no specific timeline for the case.
The most critical claims in the Garvey and Payton complaint center around how the April 2025 election happened, which includes reference to a timeshare association’s voting power. For Club Tahoe, when it comes to electing a board member, as an example, there is one vote per interval week owned. If an owner has two interval weeks, they get two votes.
The rub comes when an interval week is returned back to the association for whatever reason (delinquency, deed-back, etc.). They become association-owned weeks. In some timeshare associations, such weeks can be used at the discretion of the board to establish a quorum or for voting purposes. In this practice, it is possible for boards to obtain substantial voting control.
Garvey and Payton allege that, based on freely accessible Simply Voting records (the electronic system used), “the Former Board used [two] voter IDs to cast 1,790 weighted votes, or 24% of the total 7,506 total votes cast in the 2025 Annual Election, in favor of the Former Board-recommended candidates. These two voter IDs were later acknowledged by the Former Board to represent Association-owned, non-dues paying weeks.”
The referenced acknowledgement is from the June 2025 email, which stated that using association-owned weeks is not an anomaly and has been done before, and “there is no provision of NRS 119A or the governing documents that requires an exclusion of association-owned units … Consistent with industry practice, the association-owned units were used for quorum and voting purposes and did not violate any known state statutes.”
By October 2025, tensions were running even higher, and plans to hold a formal recall had been set in motion. After back-and-forth notifications between the various owners, the board, and the association’s legal counsel, a special meeting was held by the Save Club Tahoe group on Saturday, Oct. 25.
“At the Special Meeting,” the legal complaint states, “a quorum was established, and a unanimous recall of the Former Board by 641 Member votes of the Association was certified. There were no votes in favor of keeping the Former Board of Directors in place.”
Brian Arnold, Dusk Bennett, Daniel Doss-Grinstead, Dina Fitch, Keith Ogden, Robert Payton, and Tera Taylor were elected to the recall board.
Taylor, who left her position as general manager a year and a half prior, became an owner in exchange (she purchased her interval from another owner rather than through Tricom, which still wasn’t selling any). “I became an owner so that I could continue the good fight to help all of my owners and my previous staff,” she said.
A Nov. 3, 2025, letter emailed out to owners from the association’s general counsel, the LKG law firm, cited the special member meeting as unlawful because of semantics: the action taken was done under what the recall group called a “special member meeting,” but proceeded with under the rules of a “special board meeting,” which are not the same.
“Because the requirements of the Bylaws were not met, however, the special member meeting for an Oct. 25 recall election was unlawful, and any and all action taken at said meeting invalid,” the letter stated in part.
The original board members engaged in litigation did not respond to Moonshine Ink’s requests for comment.
Sands of time
What’s happening at a neighboring time share, Tahoe Sands Resort (TSR) in Tahoe Vista, serves as what multiple Club Tahoe owners see as a possibility should their efforts to save Club Tahoe fail. Especially since TSR is also managed by Grand Pacific Resorts.
TSR is actively dissolving after financial challenges, particularly a high percentage (55%) of defaulting owners, which equates to about 1,500 timeshare segment owners not paying maintenance fees each year. By the end of 2024, TSR accumulated negative retained earnings of $537,956.
“While the financial situation has been a challenge, we also have the burden of an aging facility,” noted an early 2025 letter from the board of directors to TSR owners. “The reserve fund simply cannot keep up with the amount of capital work needed to maintain a thriving resort. The fund currently has $200,000 in savings and we forecast needed capital improvements in the amount of $1,220,000 over the next three years.”
Owners were given two options: to pay an annual assessment of approximately $3,000 to $5,000 to help continue the resort’s operation indefinitely, or to dissolve, selling the resort and possibly receiving between $15,000 and $20,000 based on market factors. The clear preference, according to survey results, was for the sale of the property.
Kerri Countess has been an owner at Tahoe Sands since 2017. She’s a full-time resident in Spanish Springs (the northern portion of Sparks), Nevada, and fondly refers to Tahoe Sands as a “blue-collar beach club.”
She says the presentation of options was disingenuous.
“[We can either] triple your dues … fee [to] $4,500 a year and that would not allow us to do any upgrades to the property … Or, we could sell the property, and you could net anywhere from $10,000 to $30,000. What do you think people voted for?”
Similar to Club Tahoe’s voting methods, TSR’s bylaws state, “The Association Board shall cast votes which arise from suspended Memberships or for Memberships deemed held by the Association.”
Countess pointed out that under such a rule, what the owners want might be moot if the board has enough votes to make a majority.
She told Moonshine she wishes there had been more of an effort to salvage the resort through piecemeal efforts. “At no time was our property ever very active on hotels.com … We have eight buoys on that property. We could’ve [rented out] those eight buoys alone … They didn’t say, ‘We own five parcels, we could potentially investigate selling off one parcel.’ Each one of those parcels has five to seven units on it.”
The Tahoe Sands Resort board did not respond to Moonshine’s request for comment.
As of press deadline, TSR remains for sale; it was listed in April 2025 for $30 million. Owners were able to use their weeks through 2025, but no longer can as of Jan. 1, 2026, though they’re required to pay the annual maintenance fee at half-cost ($485.17 for a studio, $597.33 for a one-bedroom, and $687.05 for a two-bedroom).
“As owners,” proclaimed an April 2025 president’s address to TSR owners, “we are all sellers in this process.”
The San Diego Country Estates in Ramona, California, (also managed by GPR) recently underwent a similarly laid-out vote and is actively undergoing dissolution. After such financial hardships as delinquency (59%) and deferred maintenance, the timeshare association’s board of directors held a survey on owner preferences for how to proceed with the future of the resort. The results, according to an email sent to owners in March 2025, “showed that 84.5% of owner responses, representing 85.5% of the total owned intervals, chose … to dissolve the association and sell all the resort property.”
Just like Tahoe Sands, San Diego Country Estates association incurred new costs to implement the dissolution, “reducing the eventual payout for all participating owners. As a result, owners who wish to fully participate in the final payout will be expected to continue paying their quarterly maintenance fees.”
According to the association website dissolution FAQs (which are almost identical to Tahoe Sands’ dissolution FAQs), owners in good standing could receive between $5,000 and $10,000 per interval once the resort is sold.
Fifty years and counting
As of press deadline, the two boards of Club Tahoe continue to function — though the original board claims operational paralysis and has not moved to finalize the association’s 2026 annual budget, which is required through bylaws to be sent to owners “not less than 60 days before the beginning of the fiscal year,” which started Jan. 1.
“As a direct and proximate result of Counter-defendants’ intentional interference,” posits the defendants’ answer to the complaint, “the Association has suffered and continues to suffer damages, including operational paralysis, vendor confusion, exposure to contractual liability, reputational harm, and increased administrative and legal costs.”
Without clear guidance, owners are paying their annual assessment based on the 2025 amount of $830. Some owners of summertime intervals have been contacted directly by GPR’s financial arm, Advanced Financial, asking for maintenance fee payments. Owners of shares during earlier months, including those who have already visited, were not contacted.
The recall board has held two meetings over Zoom since its creation, with directors openly acknowledging their lack of access to the association’s finances, full owner roster, and other information. They are planning for the annual meeting on April 25, at which new board directors will be elected.
GPR is operating in its own type of silo with Club Tahoe. Whether the company will facilitate any upcoming elections is unknown. Jeff Brock, regional vice president of resort operations for GPR, told Moonshine in an email that his company is not “in a position to comment or participate in an interview.”
To date, Club Tahoe is not selling interval weeks to new timeshare owners. Rather, short-term renting options are available.
The recall board members and supporters remain wary of GPR’s recent history of dissolving timeshares.
Keith Ogden, a Club Tahoe owner in a particularly interesting spot, as he’s currently functioning as a member on both boards, claims that before he was “shut out” of the original board for aligning with the recall one, he viewed the GPR contract with Club Tahoe (which the recall board has not been able to access).
“They [GPR] are completely in control of finances, and they can starve the resort by mismanaging it,” he said. “And once they starve the resort, it goes bankrupt, then they get 25% of the sales proceeds gross — gross, not net sales — proceeds for being there and running it into the ground.”
Say the “Save Club Tahoe” group does manage to meet its goal of regaining control of the association — there’s still the bylaw-sanctioned possible termination of the resort after 50 years. On Aug. 24, 2028, a meeting will be held with all interval owners and board members. Unless 75% or more of those gathered vote for termination, Club Tahoe Resort’s declaration will continue another 10 years and again 10 years thereafter until termination is agreed upon.
“If we even get that far,” Mona Ogden said. “I honestly don’t think we will. I think they’re actively bankrupting us at the moment, and that will force a sale before we even get to ’28. But in a perfect world, the ’28 vote would’ve been a fair and ethical situation where owners did indeed vote and association-owned weeks were not voted by these people who had hidden them and stockpiled them for years in order to control the place. It all comes down to an ethical board. If you have an ethical board, ’28 shouldn’t be anything to be concerned about because you would feel good about it.”
The original board members, meanwhile, most recently responded to the legal complaint by requesting a preliminary injunction — essentially a pause button on any action for the resort — through the court.
But until there’s an official order that comes down, Save Club Tahoe continues to operate. “We have a lot of intelligent, a lot of competent people,” Fitch said. “People who have different skills, different strengths, and so you draw upon all of that in order to achieve this goal.”
