It was astonishing to come across a lake in the desert, even though I was expecting it. Even though it was my destination. I had held off on breakfast until reaching Pyramid Lake, and then it stretched before me, the mirage of a mirage: water in the desert.
I pulled down a dirt track and parked above the beach. The story of Pyramid Lake mirrors that of Mono Lake. Its one inlet was dammed and partially diverted in the early 1900s to irrigate crops in Fallon, fifty miles to the southeast. Instead of these changes affecting bird and invertebrate populations, it’s the native Lahontan trout, reliant on upstream spawning grounds that are threatened.
But there are other stories as well. This remnant of the ancient Lake Lahontan is much as it was when the great lake subsided after the last glaciation. It is much as it was when John Fremont passed through in 1844, and as it was when the Paiute Tribe approved their constitution in 1936. The shores hold only sagebrush, mustard and a few maintained dirt roads; there are no signs of development along the lake.
There is another story here too, the story of the Stone Mother who wept the lake into being when her husband sent her warring children away. Some stayed with her and they became the Paiute tribe who’s reservation still surrounds the lake. Others he sent west, and she cried for them until her tears formed a lake around her, cried so long she turned to stone, and there she sits today.
And, if you’re reading this from your iPad, you’re seeing yet another story. Pyramid Lake (at Night) a photograph taken by Richard Misrach is the background picture with which the iPad ships.
What other stories are cupped in this bowl of water, sand and sky?
I finish my breakfast and drive along the lake to its southern end and the mouth of the Trukee River. Coots gather here by the hundreds; a Great-blue Heron fishes along the shore. A cloud of white pelicans rests on the water. I turn away, following the irrigation pipes to Fallon and on across Nevada in search of the next story.
Now you've done it. I'm going to have to drive up there. One of my favorite places, with water, mirage, reflections, heat, the sponge of dry mud that one falls through walking along the shore, the huge white birds, the cottonwoods along the river...sorting out camping equipment right now. Lovely writing, all three posts. Love your reports from places I know. And places I don't. Thanks, Jeny. Ampie
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