Chollas Lake is an urban escape into nature. The air is clean; the
ground is earthy; and the city is quiet over the squabbling of the
ducks. The water reflects the trees surrounding. The earth smells
perfect. The environment is wholly serene. Despite the positive view
I hold of it, Chollas Lake is artificial. Though I appreciate it for its
natural beauty, its “natural beauty” has been forced into place. My
affinity for the Lake resolves to an oxymoron. Is that okay?
I’ve known Chollas Lake for the better part of a decade. I first vis-
ited there with my family at the age of 10. At 14, I ran there for my
high school’s Cross Country team. At 16, I moved nearby. At 17, I
spent hours a week walking at Chollas for my own health. At 18, I
trained for a half-marathon on the Lake’s perimeter. I am 19, going
on 20 now. I know the Lake well.
Or so I thought. It was only when I began this class that I learned
from you, Professor, that Chollas is a man-made attraction. I asked
my family to confirm, only to hear, “yes” and, “every once in a while
they dump fish in there.” Online, the local government reports that
Chollas was originally a reservoir, re-purposed some fifty-odd years
ago as a “youth fishing lake” (City of San Diego, “Chollas Lake Park”).
Chollas’s origins surprised me, though the concept of artificially
beautified nature is familiar. Mission Bay Park is somewhat more fa-
mous for being artificially produced – or, as the government prefers
to describe, “developed” (City of San Diego, “Mission Bay History”).
Mission Bay’s origins are easy to believe: the land is manicured to
a tee. Little more wild life may be spotted than the occasional line
of fire ants on a stone bench. The ground is composed of light gray
cement and seemly grass.
Chollas Lake is different, though. Loose dirt covers the ground,
rooted by sky-scraping trees and reeds as tall as I may reach. In the
early morning, birds roam freely. Squirrels scamper into sight every
now and again. Swarms of ducks travel to and from each bank, rip-
pling the water in their path. The whole of the area is teeming with
life. Mission Bay presents itself as stale, dead, and whitewashed.
Chollas Lake is so much more.
Yelp!
With a hop and a twist, the earth became mist. Fire and
wellesburnesghe burned through the oëvure of the forest, envelop-
ing each and every naïve squirrel to a vunderfool crisp!