Crater Lake: The most beautiful blue water

11 August 2011

Crater Lake:  The most beautiful blue water

The cold morning air rushed into the tent as I unzipped the door.  It was hard to peel my body out of the warm sleeping bag.  I had actually gotten quite a good night sleep thanks to my new sleeping bag mat.  After deconstructing the dew-covered tent, we ate breakfast.  The farmer’s market bread was delicious with the goat cheese, blackberries and granola; better yet, all were locally made.  We made a pit-stop for some coffee, before continuing on to Crater Lake National Park.

About three hours later, we arrived via the north entrance to the park.  Bettina climbed up a few more steep inclines, and finally, we were on the rim of Crater Lake.  It is hard to do justice to the awesome beauty of this lake.   Crater Lake is referred to as a caldera lake that was formed about 7,700 years ago when the volcanic Mount Mazama collapsed.  The lake is about 6 miles across and more than 1,900 feet deep in some areas, which makes it one of the deepest lakes in the world and the deepest in the US.  There are no rivers feeding it, just rainwater and melting snow.  It is one of the most pollutant free natural water sources in the US. 

To me, the most striking aspect of Crater Lake is the clear sapphire blue water.  I have never seen a blue this pure and dazzling, the clarity and brilliance of a sapphire gem was the closest resemblance that comes to mind.  This clear blue was mirrored above the lake in the cloudless sky.  The water’s color is truly unreal, and Crater Lake, in general, feels otherworldly.  I felt like I was on a computer-generated set of a beautiful alien planet.

There is a 33-mile drive around the rim of the lake.  We followed this road until it took us to the lodge and visitor’s center.  There are dozens of hiking trails throughout the park and we decided to start our day with one of the highest ones along the rim.  The trail guide said the hike was a strenuous 3+ mile hike round-trip.  It said to expect to take 2-3 hours to do the hike.  “Two to three hours?” I said, “We are in much better shape than the average person so it should only take us one to two hours.  Start your watch, Jason.”  Jason laughed, told me I was too competitive, and added, “You must have received a lot of positive reinforcement as a child because you really think highly of yourself!”  “Well,” I responded, “If I don’t think highly of myself, who else will?”

This was the kind of hiking I had been looking forward to doing all week, I was ready to get my heart rate up and sweat.  I warned Jason that I was going to hike up as fast as I could and so I might just meet him at the top.  As Jason pointed out throughout the week of vacation, I am not really capable of walking at a slow pace.  He said he could just picture me power-walking with hand weights as a middle-aged woman one day.  I have learned this joy of speed walking from my parents, who even at 60 years of age, are still difficult to keep up with.  I remember complaining about all of the walking we’d do on family vacations or even day trips to New York City, but now I appreciate the desire for mobility that then instilled in me.

Even in August, there was still snow on the ground which actually blocked off the trail.  Even though the orange sign said to hike no further, I ignored it, like many other hikers, and continued over the large compact snow mound.  I waited for Jason there.  “Kate! What are you doing up there?  The sign says ‘Danger!’”  I urged him to follow me and we continued on.  Further uphill, there was a slightly more treacherous section where the snow still clung to the side of the mountain.  We safely and quite easily made our way to the other side.  The sunshine was blinding as it reflected off the white snow.

The views from the top of Mt Garfield were stunning.  It took us just thirty minutes to get to the top!  I felt great; I knew we could hike it roundtrip in one hour!  We chatted with a man from North Carolina who was also savoring the view at the top.   After snapping dozens of photographs, we walked back down the mountain at a more leisurely pace. 

After refueling at lunch, we continued our drive around the Crater Lake to the trailhead for Mt Scott.  This is the highest peak in the park at over 8,900 feet.  The mountain seemed huge from where we parked our car, but we could just make out a small hut on the top.  That was our destination.  This hike would be a bit longer than the last one, at 5 miles roundtrip.  “I’ll see you at the top, Jason.”  And we were on our way.

This trail was not quite as scenic as the last hike.  Mt Scott was set back from the lake quite a bit further than Mt Garfield had been and for most of the way up I couldn’t even see the lake.  It was a steady upward grade the whole way and the afternoon sun was strong.  I stopped a few times to drink water and catch my breath, but kept on trucking.  Was it my imagination or was I feeling the altitude?

The trail finally opened up on a ridge and finally the small wooden look-out building was visible ahead.  It had taken only forty minutes to get up to the top, but I was ready for a break.  The wind whipped around me as I sat on a rock with views of Crater Lake a few miles in the distance.  I enjoyed about ten minutes of solitude, completely alone up there.  Jason arrived and we took in the view together.  We could barely even make out Bettina from all the way up there.  She was parked somewhere near a snow bank down there.

Feeling like we had a very beautiful and fulfilling day at Crater Lake, we decided to start our drive towards the coast.  Just like yesterday, our plan was to find a campground somewhere on the way.  After studying our map, I figured we could make it to the Oregon Dunes Park before sundown and settle in to one of the many campsites there.  Most of the drive to the coast was downhill through dense forests.  We drove through a number of small rural towns which seemed to have more cows and churches than actual human beings.  It was a sunny and pretty drive, in fact there really hadn’t been much about Oregon that wasn’t aesthetically pleasing all week.

The sun was getting low in the sky when we finally reached the coast.  I expected to be immediately driving along the shoreline, but we were still tucked away in the dense forest that covered the rugged coast in southern Oregon.  We pulled off at the first campground we found.  They charged a hefty $20 per night for a spot.  After driving around, we laughed at how incredibly NOT outdoorsy this campsite was.  It was paved better than most of the roads in Houston and had bathroom and shower facilities.  It even looked like there were electric plug-ins.  This wasn’t what we had in mind; we pressed on.

The next spot was definitely prettier.  One end of the campgrounds had a tree-lined small lake.  The other end bordered on the huge sand dunes and the beach.  It looked like the families that had parked their RV’s here were planning on staying awhile.  There were sand toys, bicycles, lavishly laid-out picnic tables, and even a purple tricycle.  Can you really even call that camping?  We parked the car anyway to have a look.  Once we climbed up a huge sand dune, we could finally see the beach below.  We arrived just in time to see the orange sun slip below the horizon.  Figuring we only had about thirty more minutes until complete darkness, we decided we’d try one more campground before giving up.

A few miles up the road, we turned off again.  This was like the Disneyworld of campgrounds.  There were even different “neighborhoods” with cutesy names that ended in well-paved cul-de-sacs.  It was landscaped.  There were waspy women pushing double-wide strollers.  I offered up the idea of just ditching the car and lugging our tent out to the beach and spending the night there.  I wanted one last chance at camping.  Jason logically said that we’d probably get kicked off the beach by rangers eventually, he was probably right.  It was time to look for a place to stay.  I was hoping for a quirky motel.

I’d heard that the coastal of town of Florence was pretty, so we stopped off there.  We tried out a few different motels until we bargained a deal at the VillaWest.  It had been quite a long day and Jason was particularly frustrated by the experience.  We headed over to one of the only still open restaurants in town for a late dinner.  Jason said their food probably came from Walmart.  It definitely was not the best meal we’d had all week.  They had some good Oregon beer though so I was happy.  At least we both enjoyed cleaning our smelly and dirty bodies off in the hot shower before getting some much-needed sleep.