Saving Mono Lake...

If you can recall the "Save Mono Lake" bumper stickers on VW camper vans, you are probably a baby boomer. I remember them.

Today, I had the pleasure of seeing the lake, getting the story and being thankful that this natural wonder didn't become another victim of the hubris of mankind. (Or should I say the Los Angeles Water and Power Department). 

In 1941, LA began diverting water from the Mono Lake basin to quench the thirst and water the golf courses of the growing city. 

The lake began to shrink by evaporation. Mono Lake is part of the Great Basin. There are no outlets, only a few humble inlets. The water is a briny 2.5 times saltier than the ocean. Yet, it's a haven for wildlife, especially migratory avian populations. It's also pretty to look at! 

History has shown the right person steps up to the plate at the right time.

Think: Lincoln, FDR and Churchill. In the case of saving Mono Lake, it was David Gaines, a reluctant warrior. He co-founded the Mono Lake Committee who fought the good fight and won a compromise with the all powerful LAWPD. The City of Angels could have some of the water destined for Mono Lake, but they couldn't have it all. 

This ancient lake did not become a dried up salt flat, like the former Owens Lake to the south. Here's an example of a flyweight taking on a heavyweight and muscling out a draw. I love stories with happy endings like this one. 

It's not all happy though. David Gaines died at the all-too-young age of 40 in a car accident. He left behind a wife, two kids and a legacy of goodness. 

If you want, you can donate to the Mono Lake Committee so they can keep on keeping on for the good of the planet (www.monolake.org) The new bumper stickers now read "Keep Saving Mono Lake." Barley the van is sporting one now.

BTW. I donated already.

RIP David Gaines and thanks for the save...

White Mountain Peak...

In the White Mountain Range of California. (How original)

There are all too many comparisons to the White Mountains resembling a lunar landscape. Nonsense. The Moon is closer to your Grandma's flower garden than the wildness and weirdness that is the White Mountains.

I'll try and paint the scene. 

To the east lies the Great Basin sinkhole punctuated by range after range of mountains silhouetted in the dusty morning haze. To the immediate west the maw of the Owens Valley looms 10,000 feet below. Canyons free fall east and west from the White Mountains. Just past the Owens Valley rises the Sierra Nevada whose peaks resemble shards of shattered glass. They are that angular. 

In other words, there's a lot happening in this geographic region, and it's all beautiful. 

I shared this 14,252' summit with a few chubby marmots, some shy pikas and one mouse who really wanted to get into my pack. It was all good after a 14 mile round trip hike.

Good night from Bishop, CA

I included a shot of Barley at our 11,500' campsite. He wasn't much into the 32 mile round trip drive on nasty roads to get there. But than again, neither was I.

White Mountains of California...

And the Ancient Bristlecone Pines Groves. 

With the passing of Prometheus (see Great Basin I post) another of Earth's old timers was found along the wind blown slopes of the White Mountains. 

His name is Methuselah, and he's around 4800 years young. A diaper dandy compared to the still growing Prometheus who weighed in at around 5200 years in 1964. 

The Forest Service employees won't divulge the exact location of where Methuselah has been hanging for almost five millennium. They'll just say, "He's out there along the 4.5 mile trail!" I was even willing to do a double secret handshake, and bribe them with IPAs if they spilled the beans. No go. These birds weren't singing.

So...I took an amble among these barely green senior citizens and made a few guesses on which one was Methuselah. When I knew no one was watching, I hugged a few of them. I can't speak for the pines, but it made me feel better.

Fun Factoid: the oldest Bristlecones pines live in the most marginal locations. They can be found where the winds shriek, the soils are thread bare and moisture is an after-thought. These tough guys have an almost "Is that the best shot you got?" attitude when dealing with the worst Mother Nature can throw at them. 

These trees inspire me.

I had to shoot the photo of the pine with barely enough needles to fill a gallon jug, yet he managed to produce one lonely cone. Now that's survival of the species!

Good night before I go "sappy" on you.

Jeff