On Reflection

On the side of Le Plateau D’Assy, in the Haute-Savoie region of the French Alps, is Le Lac Vert (The Green Lake). Having parked at an out-of-season ski resort, I reached the lake via a woodland path that winds through tall fir trees.
From the path, the lake was obscured by the trees until the moment I turned into the clearing where it sits, and, as a result, there was a feeling of discovery as I virtually stumbled upon it. Adding to this feeling was the fact that nobody else was there; it felt like this place was mine alone.
At first, the lake was a perfect mirror, the water absolutely still, as it reflected the firs, rocks, snow-capped mountains and the blue sky. The reflection was so remarkably vivid that it appeared solid; until, that is, leaves appeared in the sky and I was reminded that I was looking into water, the leaves clearly visible in the sediment. As I moved around the edge of the lake the illusion shifted constantly between the reflected mountains and sky and the vegetation at the bottom. The water was totally clear, the trees and leaves lying on the bed of the lake as vivid as the ones I was walking through.
About halfway round, the light was hitting the surface at just the right angle to reveal the effect that gives the location its name. From this new position, the water appeared a vibrant emerald green. The algae that grow on the submerged fallen trees create this phenomenon, transforming this tranquil spot into a literal gem amongst the sheer grey rocks and dense woods.
As I completed my circuit, this magical place provided one final, lingering image. A solitary white fish appeared, drifting, ghostlike, in the glowing green and then across the reflected sky, briefly merging with the snowy mountain peaks before disappearing altogether.
Despite the ski resort being out of season, I had noticed that one bar was open. It had an outdoor terrace with a view over the valley towards Mont Blanc and it was with this in mind that I headed back up through the woods.
As I left, I noticed a sign saying that swimming was strictly prohibited, no doubt to preserve the purity of the site and perhaps necessary in the summer. However, it was now November; twelve hours earlier the first snow of the season had fallen and, although it was now comfortably warm in the sun, only a lunatic would consider going for a dip and even he would probably think twice. The only chilled liquid I planned on being acquainted with was an ice-cold beer on that terrace.