Day 8: Crater Lake National Park, Oregon

We said our goodbyes to the Redwood forests and headed inland and over the border to blaze our own Oregon trail. This was another beautifully scenic drive with rolling hills and a rushing river next to the highway. Route 199 took us through Grants Pass, a very western looking town; we were expecting to see some cowboys saddling up their horses outside of the general store or perhaps a few western women in velvet and lace, preparing to do a kick-line in the local saloon. In the distance we saw a snow-covered mountain, and at the time we had no clue that that was indeed the location of our campsite.

As we followed the road signs to Mazama Village (our campsite in Crater Lake), we were shocked to see patches of snow amongst the trees. As the roads grew steeper and the air colder, snow still covered most of the ground. Other than the colder temperatures, the park had another surprise in store for us: millions of mosquitoes. Never did we imagine having to sweep snow away before pounding in our tent stakes while also battling swarms of vicious mosquitoes. Again, we gave Dad our thanks for our horribly fashionable headnets as we set about setting up camp for the night. It’s hard to get across in words just how many flying bloodsuckers were hording our faces, hands, ankles and anywhere else they could smell unbitten skin. While collecting firewood for a campfire, it became overwhelming. When batting our hands in front of our netted faces, we could feel 20 or 30 little flying bodies hit our hands. It was unreal. These things made Goblin State Park’s gnats seem like an enjoyable distraction.

The drive up to Crater Lake from our campsite was about 7 miles, and as we approached the top, we could see that the high cliff walls would hold a spectacular view. It was as if we were two small ants standing on the edge of a huge bowl. The almost perfectly circular, 6-mile wide lake was formed by numerous volcanic eruptions on Mount Mazama. In the middle of the lake Wizard Island was the quiet and lonely evidence of the cataclysmic eruption that had occurred here 7,700 years ago. The water was an incredibly vivid hue of blue and as smooth as glass. The shallower water around the island was a Caribbean turquoise color. There wasn’t a single ripple to be seen; the high cliff walls of the caldera protected the lake from wind disturbance. The lake was ensconced with a 33-mile drive which offered a completely different view every 2 miles or so. We could see why the American Indians of the area long ago had considered this natural wonder a sacred place; they never disclosed their secret to explorers. It wasn’t until 1853 when prospectors in search of gold stumbled across the phenomenon. There were rocky openings in the trees covered with snow, and we wished we had thought to pack a sled. Surely sledding down the side of Crater Lake while swatting mosquitoes in the middle of June would have been an addition to our “never-thought-I’d-be-doing-this” list! In all seriousness, we could see tracks where people had hiked up to cross-country ski or snowboard down the higher tips of the rim.

As the evening was closing in, we headed back to our campsite with long-made plans to cook beans and wienies for dinner. Almost home, we realized we forgot to pack a can opener, so we raced to the village convenience store to get one, minutes before they closed at 9pm. (do you see a reoccurring theme here)? The portable camping stove took the both of us to get lit, as we were both wary about blowing our fingers off. Now that it was officially well past dinnertime, we hoped that the bears would not smell our fancy dinner through the forest. As we were discussing the possibility of a bear attacking our bowls of beany-goodness we noticed a creature approach us. All we heard were its footsteps in the snow. We froze, beans in mid-air, as we watched a deer approach our campsite in curiosity, perhaps lured in by our raging campfire. We watched her until she left with a flick of her tail and then froze our hands in the cold spigot water only to be partially successful in rinsing our dinner bowls. Noticing that every campsite was provided with a giant steel box anchored to the ground, with a latching mechanism on its door, we assumed we should stuff all over our food items into it. (They were bear boxes, meant to keep out black bears, which the rangers told us were frequent visitors to the park). Lastly, not wanting our freshly purchased milk to curdle, we packed our cooler with snow. Ahhh… the convenience of snow in June!

We can’t wait to see what tomorrow has in store for us!