Lakes

Some of my favorite things to see in the Sierra region are the lakes. Two in particular blew my socks off, as did Muir’s. The first that both he and I saw heading Eastward, him on July 26, 1869, and I on September 4, 2011, was Lake Tenaya:

“The largest of the many glacier lakes in sight, and the one with the finest shore scenery, is Tenaya, about a mile long, with an imposing mountain dipping its feet into it on the south side, Cathedral Peak a few miles above its head, many smooth swelling rock-waves and domes on the north, and in the distance southward a multitude of snowy peaks, the fountain-heads of rivers…”

And on July 27: “Up and away to Lake Tenaya—another big day, enough for a lifetime. The rocks, the air, everything speaking with audible voice or silent; joyful, wonderful, enchanting, banishing weariness and sense of time…

The lake was named for one of the chiefs of the Yosemite tribe. Old Tenaya is said to have been a good Indian to his tribe. When a company of soldiers followed his band into Yosemite to punish them for cattle-stealing and other crimes, they fled to this lake by a trail that leads out of the upper end of the valley, early in the spring, while the snow was still deep; but being pursued, they lost heart and surrendered. A fine monument the old man has in this bright lake, and likely to last a long time, though lakes die as well as Indians, being gradually filled with detritus carried in by the feeding streams, and to some extent also by snow avalanches and rain and wind. A considerable portion of the Tenaya basin is already changed into a forested flat and meadow at the upper end, where the main tributary enters from Cathedral Peak. Two other tributaries come from the Hoffman Range. The outlet flows westward through Tenaya Cañon to join the Merced River in Yosemite. Scare a handful of loose soil is to be seen on the north shore. All is bare, shining granite, suggesting the Indian name of the lake, Pywiack, meaning shining rock. The basin seems to have been slowly excavated by the sands of years. On the south side an imposing mountain rises from the water’s edge to a height of three thousand feet or more, feathered with hemlock and pine, and huge shining domes on the east, over the tops of which the grinding, wasting, molding glacier must have swept as the wind does today.”

August 8: “The view of the lake from the top is, I think, the best of all. Made sketch of the lake, and sauntered back to camp, my iron-shod shoes clanking on the pavements disturbing the chipmunks and birds. After dark went out to the shore—not a breath of air astir; the lake a perfect mirror reflecting the sky and mountains with their stars and trees and wonderful sculpture, all their grandeur refind and doubled--- a marvelously impressive picture, that seemed to belong more to heaven than earth.”

Another lake Muir enjoyed was Mono Lake, at the end of his travels in the summer of ’69. There he witnessed a native community:

August 21: “Down on the shore of Mono Lake I saw a number of their flimsy huts [insert: I went to Mono Lake and learned that what Muir saw were the temporary summer huts, while the year-round wooden cabins built farther from the lake were much more sturdy] on the banks of streams that dash swiftly into that dead sea, --- mere brush tents where they lie and eat at their ease. Some of the men were feasting on buffalo berries, lying beneath the tall bushes now red with fruit. The berries are rather insipid, but they must be wholesome, since for days and weeks the Indians, it is said, eat nothing else. In the season they in like manner depend chiefly on the fat larvae of a fly that breeds in the salt water of the alke, or on the bit fat corrugated caterpillars of a species of silkworm that feeds on the leaves of the yellow pine. Occasionally a grand rabbit-drive is organized and hundreds are slain with clubs on the alke shore, chased and frightened into a dense crowd by dogs, boys, girls, men and women, and rings of sage brush fire when of course they are quickly killed. The skins are made into blankets. In the autumn the more enterprising of the hunters bring in a good many deer, and rarely a wild sheep from the high peaks. Antelopes used to be abundant on the desert at the base of the interior mountain ranges. Sage hens, grouse, and squirrels help to vary their wild diet of worms, pine nuts, and good bread and good mush are all made from acorns and wild rye. Strange to say, they seem to like the lake larvae best of all."

See all that black lining the shores? Those are the flies whose larvae the Paiute people ate, and which the seagulls currently eat.

"The desert around the lake is surprisingly flowery...."

"Opposite the mouth of the cañon a range of volcanic cones extends southward from the lake, rising abruptly out of the desert like a chain of mountains. The largest of the cones are well-formed crater, and all of them are evidently comparatively recent additions ot the landscape. At a distance of a few miles they look like heaps of loose ashes that have never been blest by either rain or snow, but for a’ that and a’ that, yellow pines are climbing their gray slopes, trying to clothe them and give beauty for ashes. A country of wonderful contrasts. Hot deserts bounded by snow-laden mountains--- cinders and ashes scattered on glacier-polished pavements--- frost and fire working together in the making of beauty. In the lake are several volcanic islands, which show that the waters were once mingled with fire.”

The volcanic mountains South of and just beyond the lake:

The volcanic islands:

I don’t think Mr. Muir ever fancied living in the arid turf east of the Sierra, though he clearly appreciated, enjoyed, and learned from it. I prefer the green as well, but there is something about Mono Lake that makes it a peculiar medium between dry and forested. Here, in the desert, is a gigantic body of water, teeming with life, with verdant creek basins where the snow runs off into the lake, and with the loden, pine-laden, ivory-topped Sierra Nevada as a backdrop.

Mono Lake is also exceptional in that it is the second oldest lake in the country, it’s 2.5 times saltier than the ocean (which forms tufa, the incredible calcium deposit structures you see emerging from the lake), and it’s a high traffic area for various breeding and resting birds. And as Muir said, the flowering brush is plentiful and brilliant. Fortunately, after the damage the city of Los Angeles did to its water supply, it is being restored and shows no signs of being anything short of wild, beautiful, and unusual.