Waters of Mono
Splash! An Eared Grebe dives under the surface of the water, searching for its meal, whether it comes in the form of brine shrimp or alkali flies. It rockets out of the water, acknowledging those in the canoe, staring intently at us. Mono Lake is an extraordinary body of water that is essential to the survival of many migratory species of birds, but also to the people of the Mono Basin.
While the canoe is thrust into Mono Lake, I’m immediately blinded by the powerful reflection of the sun upon the calm waves. I’m surrounded by the raw beauty of nature, tufa towers staring at me and the birds swimming away, attempting to flee from those they believe stole their water. As we canoe further into the lake, the sounds of the industrial world are faint, while the sounds of the paddles making contact with the water take over and our guide from the Mono Lake Committee retells the tragic story between Mono Lake and the City of Los Angeles.
Eared Grebes and Wilson’s Phalaropes float above the surface of the ancient lake, waiting for an opportunity to catch brine shrimp.
My classmates and teacher all take videos and photos not only to remember this moment, but to also share our time with other students in Argentina, who are learning about our sister lake, Laguna Mar Chiquita, and our Mono Lake. However, many times I find myself forgetting to take videos, only observing the wildlife that stares intently back at me. The tufa structures stand as a reminder of the ancient water levels, levels that I may never see, but hope cannot be lost forever. But they only stare intently at me and the rest of my classmates as we continue to paddle throughout the lake. It’s always a relief to remember that Mono Lake was not completely lost, still here to take my problems and silence them until my departure.
Excitingly, cups are distributed among us, giving us the opportunity to catch brine shrimp and take a closer look at them and appreciate them. Catching brineship over and over, like a memory, it never gets old.
A small aircraft flies loudly above, roaring. However it’s nothing concerning, simply a scientist flying overhead, taking pictures of the number of birds currently residing in the lake. It reminds me of always being confused as a child seeing a small plane fly over Mono Lake, now that age long question has been resolved.
Yet now, the saddest part of the event, the ending. It’s time to return to the shores of Mono Lake, to depart from this beauty given to us by nature. On the outside, I want to leave, sitting for a long period of time is uncomfortable, but deep down I do not want to leave. The teal colored waves tell me to stay, and I wish I could. The birds fly away, satisfied with their time in the lake as well. Getting closer towards the shore, however, there are springs within the lake, creating bubbles which reach the surface of the lake, disrupting the waves. They are the final checkpoint before we reach the shore, pull the canoe onto it, and slowly get off of the canoe.
Staring back at the lake, the intense sunlight blinds me once again. I haul the canoe away from the lake, ready to load it back on the truck that brought it here.
Protecting this lake is a necessity, it is the lake of the people, but most importantly, the wildlife. The beauty of Mono Lake needs to be preserved for generations to come. But also for those that have not visited the lake, like a group of friends from Argentina who plan to visit our lake next year. While I am lucky to experience this beauty of nature, others should have the right to appreciate it as much as I have, for the good of the environment.
(I am Diego Murguia and I’m a senior from Lee Vining High School. I’ve lived in Lee Vining ever since I can remember. My family is all Latino immigrants coming from Mexico. I love riding my bike all over Lee Vining and studying history.)