If you’ve traveled across the desert on a warm summer day you’ve probably seen mirages – these shimmering expanses of blue that appear to stretch across the desert floor. But they always retreat as you try to approach them. That’s what I thought I saw in Death Valley in February of 2009 – a mirage. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Stretching for miles across the salt flats was a vast sweep of sparkling blue. This is Death Valley, the hottest, driest place in North America. It had to be a mirage. There’s no way it could be real.

But it was. An immense lake had formed out on the playa called Cotton Balls. I dubbed it Upper Lake Manley. Then, when on the next to last day of our workshop it stormed, laying a fresh blanket of snow on the Panamints, there was no doubt where we would be the following morning.

A few clouds lingered in the pre-dawn sky, remnants of the storm. We stood at the water’s edge, our boots sinking in the mud, waiting. Then the first rays of the sun caught the clouds, causing them to glow a soft orange against the pale blue sky. Shortly after that the sun caressed the very tops of the peaks. The moment had arrived.