River Deep, Mountain High

There were several concerns with the Crater Lake National Park stop. While it looked like the temps would reach the low 60’s during the days, the nights would get down into the low 40’s and even the mid 30’s. There wasn’t any precipitation forecast, but we couldn’t get any real information on how the forest fires were affecting visibility in the area, although we knew that there had been issues in the past week. The webcam that would give us the best view had been knocked out by a recent lightning storm. The place we were staying was called the Crater Lake Resort. It offered glamping, cabins, RV hookups and tents, and had a wide assortment of reviews, from pleasant to very bad. It was only about twenty miles from the Lake, which is why I chose it, and there really wasn’t much in the way of choice—Crater Lake is pretty far from everything. We were staying in a cabin, with a kitchen, and I had prepaid to use the laundry facilities, figuring we would need them by this point. We planned to spend two nights, since it would take us about 6 hours to get there from the coast, giving us one full day to explore the Lake, then leaving for the redwoods in California. So, all those things were factoring into our hesitation. Most of all was FOMA, or Fear of Missing Out. To get to Crater Lake we would have to leave the Oregon Coast and it was so beautiful, we hated to do that. But it was on the plan, we had paid for it, so we soldiered on.

The road was pretty good, well-paved, and mostly straight. Straight up, that is. Luckily, every few miles there were passing lanes on both sides allowing us to get around the huge logging and hay trucks slogging their way up the mountains. And some enterprising person had put up signs letting us know how high we were climbing. From the ocean. 2,000 ft. 3,000 ft. 4,000 ft. Higher and higher. At some point, we could hear Penny wondering if we wouldn’t really have preferred an SUV for this trip. 5,000 ft. 6,000 ft. Then we came upon the Kla Mo Ya Casino and Restaurant and the only gas station and quick mart for miles. Although gas prices were well over $4.50 for premium for Penny, we were in the habit of filling up every time we saw a gas station as they had become so scarce. And as it was getting on toward dinner, we decided to try the casino restaurant on the way to the resort. This casino, high in the mountains, is owned by the Klamath, Modoc and Yahooskin tribes, and is one of the only restaurants in town. While the casino had the usual heavy cloud of tobacco smoke over the slot machines, the restaurant was pretty clear, and our shared chicken parm and beef barley soup was quite tasty. We arrived at the resort, and were very pleasantly surprised to find it clean, comfortable, and spacious. There was a pretty and very clear stream behind our cabin, we could park Penny right next to us, we had lovely neighbors and Bob and Penny showed off until dark. And dark it was, allowing us to see more of the stars than usual. We slept great, and resolved to get up early and find that Lake.

Crater Lake was once a mountain. Then a massive volcanic eruption some 7,700 years ago left a deep basin where a peak had once stood. Centuries of rain and snow filled that basin forming a lake of the deepest blue. Crater Lake is 6 miles across at its widest point, and 1,943 feet deep, making it the deepest lake in the United States. It is essentially a collapsed volcano filled with pure, clear water. From our campground, we traveled up Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway, following our GPS to find the Park Headquarters and the path to the Lake. It was pretty early, and the road was clear. But wait. What was that up ahead? A white cow? By the side of the road? We slowed to take a closer look. Not a cow. Not a deer. Not a dog. A full-grown white wolf. Loping along the grassy berm like he owned the place, not at all concerned about us. And why would he be? An apex predator for sure. Ghost. Right out of Game of Thrones. And winter is coming. We fumbled trying to get to our cameras, as the wolf clambered down the side of the road and into a grassy field. A car came up behind us, and we realized that even if we turned around we had missed our chance to preserve this with a picture. You’re just going to have to trust us.

We were stoked. Surely this was an omen. We continued to climb. The park visitors center is 6,450 feet up into the mountain. The nice ranger gave us a map and waved us through. Love that Senior National Park Pass. Higher and higher. You may recall that we traversed the Tail of the Dragon last year. That was nothing. A warm up for this road. No guard rails. If you’re crazy enough to come up here, you have to protect yourself. Switchback after switchback, each side of the road dizzying with drops and rock walls just threatening to tumble. Bob drove slowly, but my heart was hammering. Finally, we reached the Rim Village, at 7,100 ft. Here there is a Visitor Center and the Sinnott Memorial Overlook.

Words fail me now. I cannot tell you how beautiful and terrible Crater Lake really is. How impossibly blue. How vast. How clear. How surreal. How much as though an artist has painted the scene in front of you. How dangerous it would be to place a wrong footing. How impossibly stupid to take one step over the low rock wall separating the fragile human from the crush onto rock. How gnarled the trees are, being forced to grow against the punishing wind. How just moving a few feet gives a completely different picture. There were other tourists there, but there was little noise. It was as though we all understood we were in a place of wonder, of power, and that unnecessary noise would deface it somehow. People spoke in low voices, asking others to take their picture against the vista, but agreeing that no picture could capture what we all could see.

We decided we would come back in the evening to watch the sun set. So we returned to the visitors center, and shared a sandwich. I would not recommend the food there. The sandwich was strangely moist and flavorless. Take something to eat. On the way back down though, we came upon Annie’s Creek Café, just outside the Park Ranger station. Annie’s serves dinner until 8, so we resolved to go there, and then head up to Watchman Overlook, at 8,013 feet, thought to be the best place to watch the sunset. Back to the cabin, me to do laundry, and Bob to clean Penny and show her off.

We continued to watch for the wolf, but never saw him again. Around 5, we headed back to Annie’s and had a terrific supper of chili and fried cod, and we can recommend Annie’s if you go. Back we went up the mountain to the Watchman Overlook, which proved to be even more terrifying. I have been swaying between berating myself for putting me through these challenges, knowing how scared I am of heights, and how much I hate roller coasters, which are much safer than this, and being proud of myself for doing it at all. I hope I will stop soon. Finally we reached the peak. And it was clearly the right place. Bob parked Penny in a spot guaranteed to give us a perfect view of the sunset. The clouds were just right to diffuse the light and throw colors across the sky. But it was cold! There was snow on the ground that had been there since June, and the wind was brutal. Bob has a much better camera than I do, and he was out in the freezing air snapping pictures and videos. So I turned on Penny’s heater, cranked up some James Taylor and watched the most glorious sunset ever. It was spectacular. It was spendid. It reminded me how insignificant we are. How shameful it will be if we can’t manage to protect this beautiful world we live in. And how unbelievable lucky I am to be able to see the things I am seeing these days. It was a religious experience, and I shed a tear or two.

Coming down, in the dark, was the complete opposite of a religious experience. In fact, I was certain that we would perish. I had anxiety attacks resembling grand mal seizures several times. Bob drove carefully, slowly, and pulled over into the frequent turnoffs allowing other cars to come around us. But every muscle I have was tensed for the entire 40-minute ride. Including my ocular and stapedius muscles. By the time I fell into bed, my entire body was jelly. But, man! What a sunset!

Off to bed, and tomorrow will be a 6-hour drive to the Avenue of the Giants—California’s redwood trees and Bob’s wish to drive Penny through a tree. And Penny has something important to say!