Lake

No injuries reported after glacial lake burst, causing a flash flood and disrupting Bhutan’s Gasa Tshachu hot springs.

A flood caused by the Shintaphu glacial lake bursting its banks has washed away infrastructure at the Gasa Tshachu natural hot springs in the Himalayan ⁠kingdom of Bhutan.

According to state broadcaster BBS on Friday, no injuries or loss of life had been reported from Thursday night’s flash flood.

It added that the extent of the damage was unknown because of “darkness and the strong flow” of floodwaters.

Two Bailey bridges, which are bridges built in portable, prefabricated sections, may also have been washed away, BBS said.

According to Kuensel, Bhutan’s national newspaper, part of the road leading to the village of Laya, where the springs are located, had also been washed away, rendering it impassable. It added that the road has been closed to traffic indefinitely.

Kuensel said that as authorities assess the damage, concerns have emerged about a large artificial lake formed after the flood-affected river channels conjoined following the outburst.

Residents along the Mochhu and Punatsangchhu river valleys were also advised to remain vigilant and avoid riverbanks and flood-prone areas, the report added.

Moreover, in neighbouring India, flood warnings were issued in parts of West Bengal and Assam following the glacial lake outburst, India’s NDTV broadcaster reported.

The hot springs at Gasa Tshachu are a major tourist attraction in the northern part of Bhutan, nestled between India and China.

They were also hit by a flash flood in 2021 when the Mochhu River changed course and swept through the area.

In neighbouring Nepal, a mountainous area about 600km (380 miles) to the west, a flash flood on its border with China in August killed more than 1,500 people and left more than 5,000 missing.

This road trip continues a series exploring California’s overlooked scenic highways, inspired in part by artist Earl Thollander’s 1971“Back Roads of California,” whose sketches and travel notes celebrated a slower way of traveling. After tracing Highway 127 along the edge of Death Valley and State Route 78 through the badlands of Anza Borrego, the journey now shifts to the north.

If you’ve ever found yourself driving along Highway 395, chances are good you’ve been craning your head west toward the Range of Light, staring at the formidable granite peaks of the Sierra Nevada.

I wouldn’t blame you.

The escarpment rises precipitously from the sagebrush-covered valley floor, climbing through pinyon and juniper woodlands into thick pine forests. Deep, twisted canyons cut into the mountainsides, their channels lined with aspen, before the forests give way to the exposed granite slopes and summits rising above 14,000 feet.

While I’ve spent countless days wandering that high country, camping in its meadows and watching shooting stars rip across the sky, I’ve spent the last decade driving up the 395 with my eyes fixed to the east. Here, the Sierra Nevada gives way to the sand-colored mountains and salty lakes of the Basin and Range, the arid region writer Mary Austin called the “country of lost borders.”

Much of this vast landscape is public land managed by the Bureau of Land Management, some of the least understood and most threatened public lands in the West. These are places I’ve traversed, documented and obsessed over for years, culminating in my book “The Enduring Wild.”

A view of Adobe Valley on River Spring Road off of Highway 120.

(Josh Jackson)

There are many routes that can take you east from the 395 and deep into the parched heart of these landscapes, but there is one route that stands above the rest. It’s what locals call Mono Mills Road and what road warriors nicknamed the “roller coaster highway” for its stomach-lifting undulations.

Welcome to State Route 120 East.

With the highway typically closing for the winter in December, there’s still time to experience this remarkable stretch of road before the snow arrives. The 45-mile route begins a few miles south of Lee Vining, where big sagebrush and rubber rabbitbrush paint the early miles in olive green and mustard yellow, a rich palette against the muted gravelly slopes of the Mono-Inyo Craters, a 25-mile-long volcanic chain of young rhyolite lava domes.

Soon, the highway cuts through miles of gray and white volcanic pumice and ash, creating a lunar-like landscape that manages to confuse the visual senses. Almost nothing grows here except the resilient Jeffrey pine, with its deep taproot and remarkably low metabolic demand. Each tree stands alone, as if carefully placed on the landscape. You can’t help but pull over and wander through the scratch-and-sniff trees, their bark releasing the scent of vanilla and butterscotch.

Ever present to the south, Mono Lake dominates the view from the highway. Its waters are part of the ancestral homeland of the Kootzaduka’a, whose name, meaning “brine fly eaters,” reflects their longstanding relationship with the lake and its ecology. My favorite time to visit is in late summer and fall, when migratory birds converge on the lake to feast on its abundant brine shrimp and alkali flies. For Wilson’s phalaropes, Mono Lake is often their last chance to fatten up before flying nonstop to South America.

Sagehen Summit offered spectacular views of fall foliage.

(Josh Jackson)

Wild horses roam.

(Josh Jackson)

In “Roughing It,” Mark Twain describes his visit to the lake, where he found “nothing but solitude, ashes, and heartbreaking silence.” For him, the area was “little graced with the picturesque.” You will still find solitude, but I doubt you’ll share Twain’s myopic opinion of beauty.

Twain wasn’t the last to overlook the value of Mono Lake. In 1941, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power began diverting water from streams that feed the lake, sending it to the City of Angels via its controversial aqueduct. After just four decades, the lake had dropped nearly 50 feet, doubled in salinity and shrunk to half its original volume.

Without the formation of the Mono Lake Committee in 1978 by a group of upstart citizens, the lake might well have suffered the fate of Owens Lake, which had been drained decades earlier by the same Los Angeles aqueduct, leaving behind an eerily dry and dusty salt flat. A landmark 1994 decision curtailed LADWP water diversions, but three decades later, the lake remains roughly 10 feet below its state-established target elevation.

“We saved the lake from destruction,” Bartshé Miller, policy director for the Mono Lake Committee, told me by phone. “But we haven’t gotten the patient out of the hospital yet.” For those who want to help protect the lake, Miller suggests signing up for the committee’s newsletter to learn more about ongoing conservation efforts and ways to get involved.

Back on the highway, the road climbs steadily, surpassing 8,000 feet near mile 15. This is where Sagehen Meadows Road, a well-maintained gravel route, turns south. The 4-mile detour toward Sagehen Summit is worth your effort. In late September, the aspens covering the summit turn from green to amber gold, transforming the mountainside into an astonishing display of autumn color.

The sun kisses the mountains beyond in Adobe Valley.

(Josh Jackson)

Near the halfway point of the journey, another short dirt road leads to the BLM-managed Granite Mountain Wilderness, dominated by an 8,920-foot peak that resembles a stack of boulders glued together in the shape of a pyramid. With no trails on the mountain, reaching the top requires 1,800 feet of climbing. One sweltering July morning, two friends and I made the trek. We switchbacked up steep sandy pitches, scrambled over sections of class 3 granite, and reached the peak in the early afternoon. The summit register revealed roughly 40 names scribbled over the past decade, or what amounts to three or four people annually. Unbelievably, someone had already been there earlier that day, like a ghost we had neither seen nor heard nor felt. One of my companions added his name to the register and then wrote “sage for days.”

A few miles later, the highway earns its nickname as it quickly rises and falls over a succession of short hills that run through Adobe Valley. Between the crimson mesas rising above the flats, hidden lakes and springs, and the pronghorn and wild horses that roam the open country, this is my favorite place to venture off the highway and set up a camp chair. I would trade you a hundred Yosemite Valleys for the solitude and subtle beauty offered here at dusk, as the sun sets over the Glass Mountains and the sky turns mauve.

Forty-five miles after it began, the journey through volcanoes, salt lakes, pine forests, aspens and a valley that stretches across the horizon comes to an end at a lonely intersection with U.S. Route 6, which, improbably, runs all the way to Provincetown, Mass. I’ve made this drive a dozen times, and it’s the quiet and open spaces that always bring me back. The Sierra will always rightly command attention. But there’s an entire world waiting for those willing to turn east.

The route: State Route 120 East, between Highway 395 to U.S. Route 6

Distance: 45 miles (one way)

Drive time: 1.5 hours straight through; allow a full day for stops

Best time to go: With an average elevation of roughly 7,000 feet, the road is usually closed from December until late spring, when snowmobiles are the only way in (in 2023, the road didn’t open until July 1). You can find up to date Highway 120 closures on Caltrans website.

Fuel:

• Lee Vining (Mile 0)
• Benton (Mile 45)

Food/coffee:

Camping:

Lodging:

• El Mono Motel: Charming, family-run boutique lodging and coffee house.
• The Inn at Benton Hot Springs: Rustic elegance in a tranquil surrounding, the perfect spot to get away from it all and to relax and rejuvenate in the historic hot springs.
• Lake View Lodge: Cozy lodge with basic amenities and a cafe.

Hike/Explore/Learn:

Notes:

• These lands are the very definition of a landscape that requires all of us to “pack out what we pack in.” The only pit toilets are found at the South Tufa Interpretive Trail near mile 5.
• Dispersed camping is allowed on BLM land and in the National Forest around Sagehen Summit. There are dozens of gravel roads skirting the area where you can pull off the highway and park/camp for the night (please look for spaces that have previously been occupied). Many of these side roads are 2WD friendly, but please exercise caution!
• Check fire restrictions and get permits here
• Connectivity: Cell service is dependable along the route.
• Wildlife: Watch for pronghorn and wild horses.

  

PHOENIX — The U.S. Supreme Court has refused to toss out $122,000 in legal costs that lawyers for former Arizona gubernatorial candidate Kari Lake were ordered to pay for false and misleading statements they made in a lawsuit that sought to require a hand-count of all ballots in the 2022 midterm elections.

The nation’s highest court on Tuesday denied a request from Andrew D. Parker, an attorney who represented Lake in the lawsuit, to review a lower-court decision over the legal costs arising from the unsuccessful litigation.

The lawsuit by Lake and state lawmaker Mark Finchem sought to ban electronic tabulation devices. It was dismissed by a judge who found Lake and Finchem lacked standing to sue and that their lawsuit was filed too close to the election.

In 2022, Lake lost the governor’s race to Democrat Katie Hobbs and Finchem was defeated in the secretary of state’s race by Democrat Andrian Fontes. Both Republicans had promoted the narrative that the 2020 election was marred by fraud.

Maricopa County had sought sanctions against Lake, Finchem and their lawyers, alleging they broke a court rule by making unfounded allegations and by not conducting the necessary research before filing the lawsuit.

U.S. District Judge John Tuchi later concluded the lawsuit’s claims lacked an adequate basis in fact, that the standard inquiry attorneys must make before pressing litigation hadn’t been done and that the lawyers acted recklessly in seeking a court order based on frivolous claims.

The requirement to pay the legal fees applies to the lawyers who pressed the lawsuit, not to Lake and Finchem.

The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals rejected appeals over the lawsuit’s dismissal and the awarding of the legal fees.

The Associated Press left phone and email messages Tuesday for Parker, whose firm is based in Minneapolis.

Earlier this year, Parker asked the Supreme Court to throw out the requirement to pay Maricopa County’s legal fees in the case, arguing such sanctions would deter attorneys from bringing aggressive or novel legal claims.

Maricopa County said lawyers for Lake and Finchem had disregarded a letter that identified false allegations they had made in their lawsuit and relied on some of those claims in a later court filing. The county’s attorneys said those who brought the lawsuit failed to present evidence to support their allegations and falsely alleged that Arizona didn’t use paper ballots and that its electronic voting systems hadn’t been subjected to expert analysis.

Billeaud writes for the Associated Press.

Rust red and burnt sienna speckle the green mountain rising from Lake Iseo. Golden autumn sunlight shimmers on the water. Monte Isola, Italy’s largest lake island, is a peak of sheer cliffs and dense forest, dotted with old fishing hamlets and hillside villages, each as pretty as the terraced villas of Lake Como and Garda, but with far fewer visitors. I arrive at the small port town of Peschiera Maraglio – where striped wooden boats jut from the water like the gondolas of Venice – on a ferry from Sulzano, a five-minute hop across the water.

“Only three people on the island are allowed to own a car: the priest, the doctor and the mayor,” says Chiara, my tour guide from Brescia. Residents can zip up and down the steep island roads on mopeds, and a small fleet of van-sized buses trundle around throughout the day, but nearly all cars are forbidden and visitors have to explore on foot or bike.

Even bikes are banned from boats at the weekend. Not that it matters: the harbour front is lined with bike rentals (from €4 an hour for a standard bike). I’m normally a nervous cyclist, but car-free roads raise my confidence. Plus, most other visitors have the telltale front-wheel wobble of novice riders. This isn’t the place for Lycra and personal bests; the smooth-as-silk, quiet roads are for slow pedalling, and neck swivelling to take in another gorgeous view of Lake Iseo.

The circular lakeside route winds past olive groves tumbling to the shore. I thought I’d need base layers and gloves this far into autumn, but I’m in shorts and a T-shirt and already working up a sweat in 24C sunshine. I pedal through the lakeside hamlet of Sensole in the island’s south-west and stop in Menzino, just along the shore. There’s a cafe-bar catering to cyclists, so I fuel up with an espresso con lake view.

The view from the western side of the island is somewhat marred by a huge concrete factory on the mainland, so I keep my head down on the pedal to Siviano, the island’s capital. The shambling streets are sleepy; the stacked skyline of orange, lemon and magnolia villas is punctuated by the looming facade of Santi Faustino e Giovita church and a medieval stone tower. Monte Isola has been inhabited since the Roman era. Venetian rule in the 15th and 16th centuries left the main towns resembling those on Garda and Como: hillside terraces of wooden-shuttered pastel villas. In the late 18th century, Monte Isola found its main industry: net making. At Retificio La Rete Srl, a small shop and net factory at Siviano’s port, fishing nets have been handwoven for centuries, along with nets for basketball hoops, football goals, shopping bags and hammocks.

At the northern tip of the island, I get the best views of Lake Iseo’s craggiest mountains. The south of the lake is chalk-white bell towers against gently undulating hills, draped in franciacorta vineyards. The north is where jagged peaks scrape the sky, plummeting to the emerald-green lake water. Just off the shore, a speck of an island (Isola di Loreto) is topped with a grand, castle-like building, which Chiara says is privately owned. A flotilla of kayakers from Marone make their way towards the private dock, slipping across the glass-still water.

In Carzano, I pause to admire thepink-and-white facade of San Giovanni Battista church, before cycling along the more functional stretch of road along the eastern shore. The traffic-free spell is broken by an old Fiat Punto, apologetically crawling along the road. Maybe the driver is the doctor or priest.

I complete my circle back in Peschiera Maraglio, where a late lunch of lake fish awaits at La Foresta restaurant. To begin, pickled tench so vinegary it makes my mouth water and a chub carpaccio that tastes like fresh lake water; followed by the island staple of dried, salted sardinas on grilled polenta. “Sardina is not a sardine; it’s actually a type of shad fish,” Chiara explains. “In the middle ages, when Monte Isola had to pay tax to Venice, they didn’t understand how money worked, so they paid in salted sardinas instead.”

As the last ferries leave for the evening, it feels as if I have Peschiera Maraglio to myself. Accommodation is private holiday apartments or restaurants with rooms. At Decio, a modern bistro dominates the ground floor, with a handful of sleek bedrooms above. The glass front shows off an uninterrupted lake view and the room is bathed in orange light at sunset. I spend the evening perched on a stool outside L’Isola dei Sapori, a no-frills alfresco spot where sparkling franciacorta wine is perfectly chilled, and snacks of local salami, olives and fish dishes combine for a light dinner.

The next day, I forgo my bike and lace up my hiking boots. The steep trail to the top of the island begins with the enclosed cobbled streets of Peschiera Maraglio and wends into thick chestnut forest. I pocket a particularly beefy conker, unable to resist the childhood urge for a blinder. My legs start to burn against the gradient – the trail is 450 metres of climbing. Rocks and twisting roots burst through the forest path and there’s a sheer drop to one side, but the glimpses of Lake Iseo between the trees are worth every wheeze.

After an hour, the trees thin out and I emerge at Santuario della Madonna della Ceriola. The striking white sanctuary was built in the 13th century, on the remains of a pagan temple and early Christian chapels. A vast golden altar and detailed frescoes adorn the interior, but it’s the panoramic view outside that really makes the hike worthwhile. The ferry to Sulzano is a toy boat, leaving a white tail of wake.

From up high, I see that autumn colours are already creeping into the forest. I wipe the sweat from my eyes. This view is only going to get prettier as the season evolves, and the prize conkers are yet to fall.

The trip was arranged by Visit Brescia. Bike rental starts at €4 an hour. The ferry from Sulzano to Monte Isola is €2.60 each way. Trains run from Brescia to Sulzano from €4.10. Rooms at Decio start at €90 B&B