Fall 2024 Mono Lake Newsletter now online

It has been a long, glorious fall season at Mono Lake this year. Warm, clear days have stretched on for weeks, lighting up the changing leaves in the canyons and enticing visitors to hike and camp long into October. Crisp nights have been enhanced by faintly visible pink auroras and a once-in-a-lifetime comet with its graceful tail, setting behind the Sierra Nevada.

On one of the few blustery days this season I ventured to South Tufa as storm clouds prepared to drop a dusting of snow on the Mono Craters. I huddled into my coat and hurried to the lakeshore to see small waves lapping at this summer’s high-tide level marked by windrows of alkali fly pupae casings. I followed the rerouted trail—moved uphill ahead of the rising lake—marveling at this new South Tufa reshaped by a higher lakeshore and brackish puddles.

But then I came around a corner with a view to the northeast and there it was—a dust storm stirred up by the wind racing across miles of exposed lakebed. Watching the shifting plumes of white dust, my elation at seeing Mono Lake’s highest level in 17 years faded.

I looked down at the waves nudging at my boots—the lake has come so far! I looked up at the dusty horizon—it’s not enough.

That’s the story this issue of the Mono Lake Newsletter tells. Mono Lake has come so far, and it’s not enough. We celebrate the decades of protection that have allowed the lake to rise, and we know we haven’t reached the goal yet. It’s both, at the same time—elation and frustration in the work for Mono Lake.

As you read about our work in the pages that follow, I hope you’ll reach the same conclusion I did at South Tufa on that stormy day: Let’s keep going.

Top photo by Elin Ljung, Newsletter cover photo courtesy of Robb Hirsch.