Across the divide

One of my favorite day hikes follows the Pacific Crest Trail from Carson Pass up to Meiss Col and down into beautiful Meiss Meadow, from which you can proceed to lovely little Showers Lake and/or elsewhere. An interesting feature of Meiss Col, which had not occurred to me until this visit, is that it lies along the divide between the Pacific and the Great Basin watersheds. So at the point where the first picture below was taken, looking roughly southward toward Round Top, any rain or snow melt in front of me would run downhill into various creeks and eventually into the American River, the Sacramento River, and the Bay, before emptying into the Pacific; whereas behind me, the water drains into the Upper Truckee River (e.g. from the snowfield in the second picture), into Lake Tahoe and then out of it into the Truckee proper, which finally drains into Pyramid Lake, an endorheic lake within the Great Basin. Endorheic is a new word for me: water checks in but it doesn't check out. Well, evaporation notwithstanding. Two raindrops or snowflakes that fall quite near one another on Meiss Col could end up thousands of miles apart. Of course there may be some hapless little raindrop that falls at the very divide and languishes there, like Buridan's ass, unable to decide which great watershed to join. Such a drop may happily end up nourishing one of the many western blue flag irises that flourish in the col. (The map below thanks to Wikipedia... don't forget to send them money.)

Florida's springs

I suppose when most people think of Florida's natural beauty, the powdered-sugar Gulf coast beaches or palms swaying in the Keys are what come to mind. But the state's inland freshwater springs are a real contender. The State, in its wisdom (?!), has been acquiring many of these great gushers and commissioning them as state parks--in a number of cases buying out defunct tourist resorts that were driven under by Disney or just changing tastes. A great example is Silver Springs, in Ocala. This venerable tourist destination (indeed, Florida's first tourist attraction, according to Wikipedia) was the home to a well-known fleet of glass-bottom boats that plied the spring and the Silver River, which runs for just five miles from the spring before emptying into the lovely Ocklawaha. After the state bought the attraction, it continued to operate as a concessionaire with the boats and a small zoo, until just last year.

The glass bottom boats still run. When I visited last weekend with my parents, we elected not to take one of those rides, but walked around the tranquil, grassy grounds. The zoo is being dismantled, at the expense of the former owners, but it was a day off and the place was peaceful, just starting to fill with strolling families and a small stream of customers for the boat rides. The tourist center, set back from the boat dock and arranged in an arc that echoes the spring's pool, was designed by Victor Lundy in the 1950s; it is a wonderful piece of understated postwar modernism that fits its surroundings perfectly and won an AIA merit award. Here's a picture from the June 1959 issue of Florida Architect:

The water that flows from the spring is really clear. In fact, "clear" does not do it justice. Underwater photographers often staged whimsical scenes to give a better idea of the clarity. Here's one:

(Source: State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, http://floridamemory.com/items/show/8878)

I took some pictures with my phone, but I failed to capture the watery color and play of the light. I did get up close and personal to this fine leathery person. She or he has probably witnessed the changes at Silver Springs with general indifference. The fishing is good, and one enjoys pleasant fantasies of grabbing a tasty little Bichon Frisé, should one stray too far from its owner...