Hope for Mono
by Shelly Backlar
It was Restoration
Day weekend, the Committee’s 20th Anniversary
Celebration. We had some time before heading down to
paint signs for the Rehydration Ceremony so the boys and
I made our way to the boardwalk at County Park. Jeremy
and Joey, ages eight and three, raced across the grass,
clamoring their way toward the wooden path. Wild iris
grew out of the tall grass, a sight I hadn’t
remembered seeing here before.
We began our adventure by reading the plaques along the trail. "Mono Lake once reached this point," I told the boys. I continued to read the signs as we walked and admired the glorious wildflowers and listened to the sounds of birds from the marsh. The boys sped ahead, fighting about who would reach the end first. I followed slowly, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the area, and marveling at the resilience of nature.
We quickly reached the end of the line. A section of the boardwalk had separated from the path and the boys were eager to jump to the small, wooden island. My warnings did little to discourage their enthusiasm, and soon Jeremy’s foot sank deep into the mud. He began to cry. The tranquil moment vanished.
Assuring him not to worry, that we’d all go back and change into shorts and sandals, we started the trek back. As we reached the landmarks documenting the lake’s descent, I read the plaques again. Joey asked me, "That’s sad, isn’t it Mommy? Doesn’t that make you sad?"
We lingered there a moment and I thought about Joey’s questions. I wasn’t feeling sad. The lake’s rising waters inspired me. Explaining this to the boys, I asked them to imagine what the lake will look like as the water pushes forward. Much calmer now, Jeremy asked, "What about Owens Lake, Mom?" His question surprised me. The Department of Water and Power had made an agreement concerning Owens a few months prior, but I didn’t expect him to make the connection.
"Well, even though a little more water will reach Owens Lake, it will never be the same," I answered.
He looked out at Mono Lake, and then back at me. "At least there is hope for Mono," he replied. Tears welled in my eyes as I took in his words. "You’re right, Honey. At least there is hope for Mono."
Shelly Backlar is the Committee’s Development Director. She works down in Los Angeles and loves to come up to the lake with her family.
Return to Summer 1999 Newsletter
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