The sun hadn't peaked over the ridge of Sierra just yet. The moon was fading into the western skies. My tent inhaled the cool dawn air as I climbed out of the tangle of my sleeping bags and put on my pullover and stocking hat.
I had the same feeling that naturalist John Muir described best on a July day in his book My First Summer in the Sierra, "Exhilarated with the mountain air, I feel like shouting this morning with excess of wild animal joy."
Paddling Pleasant Lake |
Paddling along the granite shore of the lake |
Throughout the week, during morning and sunset paddles on the upper part of Pleasant Lake, we'd explore the narrow coves, bays, and polished granite formations. Paddling here, one can see the mountains' history, through the stories left behind in the rock.
When Padre Pedro Font named the Sierra Nevada Mountains in 1776, they had already been around for a long, long time. The ice- and snow-covered sharp saw-bladed peaks, the Spanish padre, saw had begun forming under the ocean about 100 million years ago. Beneath the surface of the earth, the granitic rocks formed from molten rock that gradually solidified. Powerful geological forces then gradually forced the landmass up under the waters of the Pacific Ocean and below an advancing North American continent. As a result, plumes of plutonic rock were pushed up towards the surface, and sheets of lava poured down the slopes of volcanic chimneys rising to the surface.
When Padre Pedro Font named the Sierra Nevada Mountains in 1776, they had already been around for a long, long time. The ice- and snow-covered sharp saw-bladed peaks, the Spanish padre, saw had begun forming under the ocean about 100 million years ago. Beneath the surface of the earth, the granitic rocks formed from molten rock that gradually solidified. Powerful geological forces then gradually forced the landmass up under the waters of the Pacific Ocean and below an advancing North American continent. As a result, plumes of plutonic rock were pushed up towards the surface, and sheets of lava poured down the slopes of volcanic chimneys rising to the surface.
Exploring the many coves of the lake |
As the world grew colder, beginning about 2 or 3 million years ago, the Sierra Nevada mountains were coated with an extensive thick mantle of ice. It covered much of the higher altitudes and sent massive ice-crawling glaciers down its valleys. The glacial ice quarried loosed and transported vast volumes of rubble along the way, scouring and transforming the landscape that we see today.
Paddling by the polish white granite boulders, it's easy to see the evidence of the path of the last glacier. Deep grooves are carved into the rock, and erratic and huge slabs of rock are left behind and out of place in a natural balancing act. To our delight, flat smooth polished boulders at the water's edge are perfect for sunbathing and drying off on a hot day after jumping into the cool lake.
At sunset the mountains of the Sierra glow red |
Only the bravest trees succeed in the summit crags along the lake, despite struggling against the wind and snow. We see the Sierra junipers growing on tops and ridges and in the splits between the glacier pavements of granite. Muir called them a sturdy highlander, "Seemingly content to live for more than a score of centuries on sunshine and snow...Surely the most enduring of all the tree mountaineers, it never seems to die a natural death."
Nestled in these trees and granite walls of the Sierra are these man-made reservoirs like Loon Lake and Pleasant Lake. After years of construction, they are part of the mountain landscape. These once meadows, canyons, and riverbeds are now glimmering lakes ready to explore and make part of a new history.
On our evening trek around the lake, we were able to paddle into a picturesque pond filled with blooming water lilies protected by steep walls on all three sides. It was only because the water level was still higher than normal this time of year that we were able to see the beautiful yellow flowers in all their glory in our kayaks.
A hidden coves reveals blooming water lilies |
Back at camp, we lay on our backs staring up at the star-filled sky just as Muir did over a century ago. "How hard to realize that every camp of men or beast has this glorious starry firmament for a roof! In such places standing alone on the mountain-top, it is easy to realize that whatever special nests we make leaves and moss-like the marmots and birds, or tents or piled stone," wrote Muir, " " We all dwell in a house of one room – the world with the firmament for its roof and are sailing the celestial spaces without leaving any track.”
At 6,378 feet, we had no trouble seeing the heavens. We were dazzled by the Starlink satellites, a moving train of bright dots traveling across the sky. Blown away by an amazing streaking meteor that burned across the sky, from horizon to horizon, and later overwhelmed by the full moon rising over the silhouetted mountain top. In my tent, I looked over the lake as moonbeams glimmered off the still water before pulling down the fly. In the distant coyotes howling at the moon, I'm sure, with pure wild animal joy.
This week in Outside Adventure to the Max, we return to Loon Lake and the Sierra Nevada Mountains in for part two of our annual trip to our favorite lake.
ReplyDeleteGood essay While the trip is about people we bring, the real story is the place we bring them too
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