Mono Basin Journal
A roundup of less political events at Mono Lake
by Geoff McQuilkin
Even though a snowstorm is
currently obscuring Negit Island, it is clear that the
warmer months have returned. Earlier than last year, as
it turns out, which feels like a luxury after the past
few above-average winters of extended cold and snow.
Around town, daffodils are pushing up, occasionally
contending with snowfall. Soon the summer thunderstorms
will rule the weather patterns over the lake.
Deer are following their migration paths back to the mountains, browsing for new green grasses along the way. Not long ago, six wove slow paths between the bushes, sampling the plants, eying the snowy clouds still hanging on the mountain peaks. A curious noise gathered their attention, making a moment of quiet focus. Then they all bounded off, hopping over sagebrush so that they were momentarily visible, then hidden, then visible again, then gone into the Mono Basin’s open spaces.
Down at the lake, all kinds of things are happening as the water rises onto dry ground. Out at County Park, one of Mono’s more unique phenomena has been visible for a while—if you spread the willows apart and take a close look. Near the boardwalk, the lakewater has been moving up the freshwater course of DeChambeau Creek. Where the two waters meet, loose tufa encrustations have been building around the willow roots and stalks, odd billowing formations visible just below the freshwater surface of the stream. They formed quickly and will grow only briefly, for soon a rising lake will put them even further underwater, remnant reminders of past days when the lake was far too low.
Return to Summer 1999
Newsletter
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