Mono Basin Journal
A roundup of less-political events at Mono Lake
by Geoffrey McQuilkin
Mono's waters are covering old ground.
With an occasional burst of bubbles, frequently fringed with a spray of vegetation, old shoreline paths can be seen beneath the waves. Grasses that once bent in the wind now twist in the currents as brine shrimp drift by, and land which lay beneath the lake for thousands of years is wet again.
Monsoons from the Gulf of Mexico visited the Mono Basin this summer. After several years of absence, the building clouds, towering thunderstorms, and nearby lightening displays once again enlivened the summer days.
One evening Paoha was backed by sheets of rain, topped by thousands of feet of white and gray cloud. As evening breezes brought the scent of wet sage to town, flashes of lightening made the clouds glow from within while jagged daggers of energy flew from sky to island.
Forest fires were a feature of the summer, and the Sierra blazes frequently reminded us of their distant presence. Great masses of smoke slid over the Sierran granite and down the canyons into the basin. One day, at sunset, Negit Island was barely visible through the pall; the strong oranges and reds of sunset had to force their way through the sky, and the air smelled of woodsmoke, just like winter, now on the way.
Return to Fall 96 Newsletter
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|