After lunch I was invited on a trip to Pyramid Lake, about fifty miles north of the city. In a landscape of chalky, dusty colours there sat a beautiful body of water like a small sea – deep blue with proper waves – backed by the inevitable mountain range. Sagebrush had been uprooted by wind or wave and deposited on the nearside shore; pale, almost bone-white, the dead plants shone in the sun. The bright intensity of the lake contrasted with the surrounding powdery tones of stone and sand. A lone tree grew, with tender spring leaves and terracotta trunk. I loved the lake. I explored around it, went for a sundown supper, and made my way happily back to the motel to find that the party of senior citizens had gone completely and inexplicably rampant.

Pyramid Lake, Nevada

Copyright  Alice Starmore
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