Little Lake, Calif.

100 degree sun streaks hit blacktop, lake, volcanic spit and sky. Welcome to Little Lake, California. Upon a time us weary road folk would stop at the twist, get a cool one, regain our wits and continue our journey to Bishop, Mammoth or Tahoe. Little Lake was the scene when our heavy hearts lightened. The Sierra beckoned and we were close! I actually remember the settlement vaguely!? My recollections enhanced by the weird stories of friends. The teenage kid with a hair lip working the malt machine. The Hamm's beer sign. Illuminated with red and blue neon, uttering their slogan, From the Land of Sky Blue Waters. The lake you couldn't FISH!!?? I recall that memory with both anger and now as an adult, amusement?! We went to the SIERRA NEVADA to throw a line. We were flatlanders and the second we spotted mountain fresh we fished! Little Lake has never been open to outsiders as far as I've gathered? Hell I don't even know if it has trout??? What I've learned is she's the old runoff from Owens Lake. We all know how L.A. bastards stripped those waters!? But blackbacks? The great mystery! We had to wait until Lone Pine to wet our line. Today all that remains is a dilapidated green shack. A turnoff to nothing. The gas is gone, as is the bar, the malts, the strange kid and the stories. To call it a Ghost Town is a stretch. No structures endured times holy lapse. Fire claimed those hours in the early 90's. Little Lake, a ghost exit on the byway. We DAMN the living element for her demise…RW
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STAY STRANGE!