• This lake is nestled in between two massive rock faces. This area was likely made by the flood digging deeper and deeper down, through an area of substantially softer rocks.  The sheer banks reflect this. 
• The lake has a good amount of algae, and some smaller aquatic plants, perhaps milfoil?
• Long dark grass grows along its south banks. Behind this grass grows birch trees, flinging their branches over the lake. On the north bank, the patches of grass are fewer; the bank is probably too steep for them to take root. The south bank rises up into a small plain, covered in potholes of different (mostly large) sizes.
• There are three birds, one going chikachikachika, one saying kreyew and the other going pewp pewp, or something along those lines. There’s no sign of mammal, although deer probably come here to drink.
• I don’t know what sort of fish live in this lake, but I have seen one. It swam under the dock I was sitting on, a seven inch speckled fish. It looked like some sort of trout. The gnats are here. Freshwater snail shells are abundant along the banks. 

The only sound here is that of my fellow travelers writing. Rolling ridges of broken basalt. Winding paths, leading from mans road to earth’s open arms. A vast lake reaches it icy depths into the twisting cynon. Patches of green spotted from above. Upon closer inspection massive algae blooms explode in the underwater world. Swaying with the waters current, a magnificent dance of blue-green reflections mesmerizing my mind..

Deciduous trees display their yellows, greens and reds, like ripe fruit falling from their limbs.  The water slows as it reaches the western bank, liquid versus solid.  The fluid and flexible will always win over time, using power instead of force.  The cool air pushes its way across a still and mirrored lake.  Fish wait patiently below the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch a passing meal.  The reflection of the northern slope paints a surreal replication.  It looks as if I could fall into the mirror and maybe land on the peak of a false hill.  When I walk the sloping hills along Deep Lake’s southern edge, I remember the importance of walking through diverse terrain.  It pushes my mind to shape a way, a path with multiple choices.  I must measure my known and experiential capacity against what I see ahead, obstacles between my goal and I.  Critical thinking and creativity flourish, a freshness arises from somewhere deep within.  You are challenged only by your self.