It rises sheer from the floor of the basin, a 1400 foot granite pinnacle, smoothly rounded on top. It is at its best reflected in any of the basin's many lakes. Just below Dollar Lake I spotted a pack group milling around a campsite down by the river, the South Fork of the Kings, as it flowed down the valley. Camping was prohibited at Dollar Lake itself because, as I learned from a sign by the trail, the park was trying to let the vegetation around the lake recover from 90 years of campers and their pack animals. I looked in the lake, an uninspiring little pond, and saw hundreds of 6-inch trout swimming back and forth.
Fish always look so idle when seen from above in the daylight.
They seem to have nothing whatever to do, and merely swim around waiting for a water-spider, beetle or minnow to appear, magically, and provide a snack. Or perhaps when I'm watching them, they're watching me, cautiously on the lookout for a fishing rod and artificial fly or spinner. I spend a lot of time watching animals, learning how they move so I can better photograph them. Some, like gorillas and chimps, are relatively easy to understand, their minds are so like our own. Fish, however, are totally beyond my ken.