So this is what faults can turn into
This spring, take a look at the natural fault that becomes a lake.
Hi, everyone-
There’s a place I know that has the best name ever:
Hanging Lake.
The first time I heard this, I thought someone must’ve just really loved ancient wonders of the world. And decided to use the clever name for an off-brand copycat of the ‘hanging gardens of Babylon’. But no, Hanging Lake is a real place in America. With a real name. And a real body of water.
Here’s its official description:
“Hanging Lake, a National Natural Landmark, was formed by a geologic fault which caused the lake bed to drop away from the valley floor above.
So a geologic fault caused the lake bed to *drop* from the valley floor—above?
If you harness some childlike curiosity to ponder—and I mean, really ponder—about what that means, you might see why I’m in awe of the existence of hanging lakes.
I’m no geologist or scientist, and these may be silly: but so many questions immediately popped up.
How come the water didn’t just find other ways downstream and emptying the lake?
How come the bed doesn’t cave in, swallowing the lake water entirely?
Does the 900-feet steep elevation gain ‘hold’ the lake up as it hangs mid-mountain?
Whatever it is, this lake changes the real meaning of having faults.
I’ve always known there are good reasons for faults, flaws, failure—(and as I am writing this sentence: seemingly anything with an “f”).
But I didn’t know that faults are just vaults for myths.
It’s where something that isn’t becomes something that is.
It’s where coal catches fire after ages of dormancy.
It’s where unseen spaces shed light by way of contrast.
And it’s where final saves come from the least likely.
So—maybe it’s time to rethink our position on what faults really mean?
Try going to the Hanging Lake this spring. And see what you think. If you can’t go there, find something similar nearby.
It’ll be good.
Beyond just something to do, it’s a rare chance to see in the flesh: how one of nature’s biggest faults—aren’t really faults after all.
If you do choose to go this Spring to places like this:
Bring the snacks. Bring the pets. The kids and grandkids. Bring the phone, even. Whatever modern necessities you think you need. And when you get there, you might just go:
Why did I bring any of this? Everything I needed to know is right in front of me.
For me at least, that’s what happened.
I hope this helps reset our faith in myth-making abilities, regardless of how outlandish and bygone it may have sounded at first.
-Thalia
PS:
Shakespeare might’ve had a point when he talked about Spring.
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight
Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.-Sonnet 98, by William Shakespeare
Is there a go-to place for you in the spring?
Who knows, I might love to cover it in my upcoming posts. Tell me in the comments section below.
PSS:
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I appreciate you.
-Thalia
I love “fox hole” so much.
Wow! It looks beautiful!