Thursday, June 10 2004

Pyramid

Reno is just minutes away from some of the most beautiful forestland in the country, and Lake Tahoe is a natural treasure. Summer is here, and my peers are arriving at work tan from time spent at the lake. Galena Forest Restaurant is at the base of the mountains, just above the tree line and only twenty minutes from the Tahoe shores. I want to make it abundantly clear that I love the crystal blue water, the winter snow, the many beautiful summit hikes, the mountain trout streams, and the vanilla smell from the bark of a Douglass fir tree. I smile when I see that fertile earth covered with decaying pine needles, black beetles, and manzanita.

That said, I prefer the desert. I love alkalai flats and dust storms more than evergreens and chipmunks. I love huge expanses with varying shades of gray and brown. When I have a day off and I’m looking for something to do, without hesitation, I’ll take scrub, sage, lizards, Mormon tea, and snakes over the flora and fauna of the Sierras. I am a child of the Great Basin. Hanging out in the Sierras is like watching a beautiful movie. Spending time in the middle of nowhere Nevada is being at home. I love being outside, and the best outside is under the big sky in the high desert.

When Ani and I lived in New Orleans, we took advantage of the Louisiana outdoors whenever we could. We rented canoes from a guy named Earl and paddled through the Jean Lafitte State Park: a deep and dark series of bayous, complete with nutria, gators, cottonmouths, cypress knees, huge spiders, and unimaginable overgrowth. Everything was alive out there, and its bounty assaulted me with strange alien life forms. Even though it was within twenty minutes of our house, I felt as far away from home as if I were on the third moon of Jupiter. I loved living down there, and I did come to feel at home in the city of New Orleans, maybe even more at home than I do in the town of Reno. I miss the nightclubs, coffee houses, bookstores, city parks, and restaurants, but I never felt like I belonged to the wilderness outside of the city. In the end, I've decided that the surrounding countryside defines my home much more than the city in which I live. Even if I’m not taking advantage of the desert, I need to know that it is there at my disposal.

The other day, we took Ruby to my favorite place in the world. Many people in this area dislike Pyramid Lake, especially in comparison with Lake Tahoe. I often hear people say things like, “why would you go there instead of Tahoe? It’s just a lake out in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing out there but sage and hills and sand, and then there’s a big lake.” That always amazes me. THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT THE COOLEST THING IN THE WORLD! The desert holds intense pockets of beauty in its huge expanse. The sparseness surrounding a desert bloom makes that flower more fragrant and colorful.

A lake in the middle of the desert is a miracle, not an aberration. Pyramid is no man made reservoir; it is the last remnant of a great inland sea. There are prehistoric fish there that exist nowhere else in the world! How could anyone fail to understand how cool that is?

I guess I am an intellectual descendent of Abbey. At the top of the list of things I love about Pyramid is that most people don’t find it as appealing as Tahoe, so it’s never crowded. It’s disappointing to see someone within a mile of you while at the Pyramid Lake beaches. At Tahoe, you would be lucky to find a spot with twenty yards of personal space. Ruby, Ani, and I weren’t disappointed by our day at the beach. There was some fairly intense wind, and we are still cleaning sand out of Ruby’s ears, but overall, it was just what we needed.

We can’t wait to get Ruby started with baby swimming classes. That scene in Amelie kills me.

I do have a personal history with the lake, and have always been mesmerized by it. It is the termination of the Truckee River, which fascinated me even as a young child. Some of my favorite times as a toddler were spent with my mom on the bank, looking for the tiny shells and other remnants of the great inland sea. When I was in high school, my friends and I had adventures in the rocks and waters of Pyramid that I can’t relate here. My parents and some of my friend’s parents read this blog, so there is no need to worry them so many years after the fact. Let’s just say that wild times were had by all, and everyone is still alive! Ruby, if I ever catch you doing things like that… Ahh that’s something to save for another post.

When Ani and I moved back from New Orleans, Pyramid was the first place I wanted to go, even though it was winter, I drove out alone and looked at the water.

My grandfather died at Pyramid Lake.
In my mind’s dictionary, next to the entry for “desert rat” there is a drawing of him. Every summer, he and my grandmother would take my cousin and me deep into the Nevada desolation to some ghost town or ancient mining camp dump, looking for arrowheads, cobalt glass, or petroglyphs. His skin always had the look of leather; he had spent much of his life out from under his roof. He had fished that lake for years. While talking to a friend, months before his death, he mentioned that he’d probably die out there. I’ll never know if it was coincidence, or if he had the power to stop his heart in one of the most amazing places on earth. Many of the rocks at Pyramid have names like Indian Head and Popcorn Rock. The rock near where my grandfather died is called Fisherman’s Passage in honor of him.

His ashes were spread on the other side of the lake, near the mouth of the Truckee. I was there the day my father threw them to the wind, and I remember my Aunt Val hiding M&Ms in the nearby desert for him to find at his leisure.

I may spend some time away from the desert before I’m done, but my heart won’t. I hope that Ruby shares my love of this place.