Chapter 20: Crater Lake National Park
Sutherlin, Oregon, to Crescent City, California.
The day began with the early morning sun casting a soft, golden light over the Umpqua Valley. I prepared a quick breakfast in the apartment kitchen before we loaded up and prepared for an early departure. As we set out from Sutherlin, the landscape unfolded like a verdant tapestry, with rolling hills and sprawling meadows stretching out beneath an expansive sky. The first glimpse of the valley was like stepping into a living painting, the delicate balance of light and shadow playing across the rolling terrain.
At Roseburg, we turned East onto Oregon-138, or North Umpqua Highway, and pushed upriver following the Umpqua River into the Western Cascades. Ever in the background, the Umpqua River meandered gracefully, its waters sparkling under the morning sun. The river’s banks were lush with greenery, the foliage a vibrant contrast to the soft yellows and browns of the open fields. Tall, dark trees dotted the landscape, their silhouettes stark against the sky. The scene was one of serene beauty. By now, most had fallen back into an uncontrollable slumber as we continued to meander along the river’s edge without haste or concern.
As we journeyed toward Crater Lake, the landscape transformed. The scene was punctuated by a lone tree standing defiantly amidst the rolling golden hills. Perched on the crest of a sunlit knoll, this solitary sentinel seemed to embody the spirit of resilience and solitude. Against the brilliant azure sky, the tree’s sturdy form made for a beautiful picture, a poignant reminder of nature’s enduring strength.
The hills themselves, clad in a rich tapestry of golden grasses, undulated gently, their soft curves reminiscent of a pastoral cinematic scene. The tree, stark against this vast expanse, drew the eye irresistibly, its commanding and serene presence. It stood alone, yet it did not seem lonely; rather, it appeared to be in quiet communion with the land, rooted in a place of timeless beauty and peace.
As we drove further, the clouds began to gather, their billowing forms adding a dramatic element to the scene. They loomed large and heavy, casting shadows that danced across the hills. The valley seemed alive and ancient, breathing and shifting with the rhythms of nature. Each turn revealed new vistas, from dense forests to open pastures. The sense of adventure was palpable, the promise of discovery urging us onward.
Leaving the golden fields behind, the landscape shifted once more as we entered a realm where lush forests reclaimed their dominion. The vibrant green canopy enveloped us, starkly contrasting the arid hills we had just traversed. The Umpqua River, ever our companion, now flowed through a denser, more mysterious terrain. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the sound of the river’s steady murmur was a soothing backdrop as we pushed on.
We came across a rustic wooden bridge at Tioga; its weathered beams seemed both youthful and ancient. Below, the river surged and swirled, its clear waters reflecting the verdant foliage that framed its banks. The scene was one of tranquil beauty, a serene counterpoint to the rugged majesty we had encountered earlier, and each moment in this journey brought new wonders, the landscape a living, breathing entity that spoke to us in a language of beauty and awe. I pulled into a small parking area near the bridge and took a few minutes to capture pictures from its perch high above the heavy river.
Further on, just south of Diamond Lake, we picked up O-230, or the West Diamond Lake Highway, and began our push south towards the crater. As we continued our ascent toward Crater Lake, the weather shifted dramatically. The clear skies were soon obscured by thick, swirling snowflakes, transforming the landscape into a serene winter wonderland. The transition was sudden yet mesmerizing as if we had crossed an invisible threshold into a different world.
The road ahead was flanked by towering evergreens, their branches heavy with fresh snow. The forest, which had been vibrant and green only moments before, now wore a cloak of white. The air had become crisp and cold; the gentle whisper of falling snow and the crunch beneath our tires was the only sound that broke the silence. Each flake seemed to dance, creating a magical, almost ethereal atmosphere. It was the most striking winter scene I had ever witnessed.
Driving through this snowy forest was like stepping into a scene straight out of a winter fairy tale. The winding and slick road led us deeper into the heart of this frozen realm. Snowbanks grew higher along the edges, and the trees, laden with snow, bowed gracefully over our path. It was a landscape that commanded awe and respect, its beauty matched by its formidable presence. As the snowfall intensified, visibility reduced to a soft blur, and the world around us became an intimate, enclosed cocoon of white. The snow muffled every sound, creating an undeniable sense of peace and isolation. It was as if time had slowed, and the world ceased to turn.
Approaching Crater Lake, my anticipation grew. The thought of the stunningly blue waters of the lake, surrounded by the pristine, snowy landscape, filled me with excitement. By noon, we rolled into the Park, the long, sluggish drive through the snow-covered land complete.
As we finally reached Crater Lake, the scene that greeted us was nothing short of a winter wonderland reminiscent of the North Pole. The lake, typically a stunning deep blue, was shrouded in a thick blanket of snow and fog, giving it an otherworldly, almost mystical appearance. The usual breathtaking vista was replaced by a vast, white void, a serene and quiet expanse that seemed to stretch into infinity. Though you couldn’t see it, you could sense the massive cliff and imposing lake in the vast expanse of nothingness. With the lake and crater in which it sits completely obscured, we entered the visitor’s center to discover the park’s history.
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Crater Lake National Park, established in 1902, is the fifth-oldest national park in the United States and the only national park in Oregon. The park is renowned for Crater Lake, the deepest lake in the United States, which was formed about 7,700 years ago following the collapse of Mount Mazama during a massive volcanic eruption. With strikingly clear blue water, this caldera lake has long been a source of fascination and reverence. The Klamath Native Americans, who have inhabited the region for thousands of years, hold the lake as a sacred site, and their oral histories recount the cataclysmic eruption that created it. European American explorers first encountered the lake in the mid-19th century, and its awe-inspiring beauty quickly captured the nation’s imagination, leading to efforts to preserve the area as a national park.
The campaign to establish Crater Lake as a national park was spearheaded by William Gladstone Steel, often referred to as the “Father of Crater Lake.” After seeing the lake in 1885, Steel dedicated his life to protecting it. He lobbied tirelessly, wrote extensively, and garnered public and political support for the park’s creation. His efforts paid off when President Theodore Roosevelt signed the Crater Lake National Park bill on May 22, 1902. Since then, the park has been a haven for scientists, tourists, and nature enthusiasts, offering stunning landscapes, diverse ecosystems, and a window into the geological forces that shape our planet. The park’s history is a testament to the enduring power of natural beauty and the human spirit’s drive to preserve it for future generations.
Upon exiting the center, the view had not yet improved. Embracing the winter magic, we decided to make the most of the snowy landscape. The air was filled with the joyful sounds of laughter and playful shouts as we bundled up against the cold and ventured into the snow. The thick, soft blanket of snow provided the perfect playground, and we couldn’t resist the urge to build a snowman.
Our snowman grew with every layer we added, its round, plump body standing proudly against the backdrop of snow-draped trees. We adorned it with sunglasses, adding a touch of character and a hint of humor to our frosty creation. Nearby, evergreen trees stood tall, their branches heavy with snow, creating a picturesque setting that felt like a scene from a holiday postcard.
The children, wrapped in their cozy winter clothes, reveled in the novelty of the snow. Their cheeks rosy from the cold, we chased each other, threw snowballs, and collapsed into the snow, making snow angels and giggling with pure delight. It was a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. The snowy landscape, usually so still and silent, came alive with energy and laughter.
As we prepared to leave Crater Lake, the snow ceased its gentle descent, and the air grew still. Something urged me on, so we decided to take one last attempt to glimpse the lake, hoping for a break in the weather. We loaded the van and headed toward the overlook. And then, as if by magic, the fog and mist began to lift, revealing the most breathtaking scene I had ever witnessed.
The lake, a deep and mesmerizing blue, stretched out before us, surrounded by the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the caldera. The clarity of the water was astounding, reflecting the sky and the encircling cliffs in a vivid azure mirror. The sight of Wizard Island, rising from a corner of the lake, added to the ethereal beauty of the moment. Covered in a delicate layer of snow, the island looked like a mystical land, untouched and serene. What was once an endless void was now a beautiful, clear view of the entire caldera, some 27 square miles. A few dense snow clouds added a dynamic air to the scene as they floated across the lake.
The surrounding trees, still adorned with their snowy mantles, stood as silent witnesses to the grandeur of it all. Their branches, now free from the burden of falling snow, reached skyward, framing the view with a natural elegance. The contrast between the snow’s pristine white and the lake’s deep blue was striking, creating a tableau that felt both surreal and sublime. We stood in awe, soaking in the majesty of Crater Lake. The sheer scale and beauty of the landscape were overwhelming, a reminder of nature’s power to surprise and inspire. The moment felt timeless, a rare and precious glimpse into the purest forms of natural beauty.
Capturing the scene with our cameras, we ensured that this magical moment would be preserved. Yet, no photograph could truly convey the depth of emotion and wonder we felt standing there. It was a sight that would be etched in our memories forever, a highlight of our journey that we would recount with reverence and joy. It was that impactful. If you are looking for your next vacation in nature, come here, man, do it.
As we reluctantly turned to leave, the enchantment of Crater Lake lingered with us. The unexpected unveiling of its beauty after the snowfall was a gift, a perfect finale to our day. It was a reminder that the most extraordinary experiences sometimes come when we least expect them, revealing the world in all its splendor after I had written it off. Patience, it would appear, is a virtue.
Leaving the snow-kissed wonder of Crater Lake behind, we descended the mountain, the road winding through a forest gradually shedding its winter coat. The trees, still dusted with snow, glistened in the soft light, and the air was crisp with the lingering chill. Pockets of blue sky peeked through the canopy, hinting at the promise of clearer weather ahead.
As we continued our journey, we encountered a charming picnic area beside a bubbling stream. The snow had begun to melt, and the forest floor was a patchwork of white, brown, and green. The rushing water provided a soothing backdrop as we parked and unpacked our lunch. The stream, swollen with snowmelt, flowed vigorously, its clear waters weaving around rocks and fallen branches, creating a lively symphony of nature.
I took some time to explore the area while Diem prepared sandwiches and fresh, steaming bowls of noodle soup. The picnic area was nestled within a dense forest of towering evergreens. A single tall, weather-beaten tree, stripped of bark, stood alone at its center. Dappled with fluffy white clouds, the deep blue sky peeked through the canopy above. Nearby, a babbling brook wound through the lush forest, still partially cloaked in winter’s dying embrace. The water was mesmerizingly clear and briskly cascaded over rocks and fallen trees.
I stood outside the van enjoying my sandwich while the girls tucked into lunch in the warmth of the van. All around the tree stood tall and fast. Snow patches lingered, softened by the warmth of the forest floor. It was a moment in time, a fleeting touch of human presence amidst the grandeur of nature. Highlighting the hopefully harmonious coexistence of man and wilderness.
As we continued our march to the coast, the forest transformed quietly. The snow, melting steadily, revealed rich, dark soil and the first hints of spring growth. Moss-covered rocks glistened, and tiny rivulets formed where the snow had retreated, joining the larger streams and rivers rushing down the mountain. The scene was alive with the subtle, persistent energy of nature waking from its winter slumber.
We picked up O-230 at Union Creek again and turned southwest toward the coast. I saw a sign for a natural bridge on the Rogue River and pulled off to take a closer look. Everyone was tired and enjoying a quiet time in the warm van, so I set out alone. As I meandered along the maintained path through the lush forest, the sound of the rushing river became constant and unmistakable. I frequently paused, mesmerized by the beauty and ferocity of the frothy, glacier-tinged water as it surged over rocks and cut into narrow channels, creating eddies and powerful whirlpools in its wake. The air was crisp and cool, filled with the earthy scent of pine and the subtle fragrance of damp moss.
At one particularly striking vantage point, I stood on a rocky outcrop, gazing down at the river as it tumbled and roared below. Across the river, I could see the natural bridge, its water rushing out from underneath to rejoin the mighty river. A sign explained the scene; the ground beneath was an ancient lave field. Far beneath, massive lava tubes diverted water from the river to deep underneath the surrounding landscape, spitting the rushing water out at various locations, including the natural bridge. I continued along the trail, the river’s roar growing softer. An indication the path was leading away. After a short walk, I returned to the parking area and rejoined the crew, and we pushed on.
By evening, we had crossed into California, greeted by the iconic “Welcome to California” sign, and spring again had covered the land. The sign, adorned with bright golden poppies, stood tall against dense, evergreen forests. Our excitement was briefly tempered by a border stop on Highway 101, where all of our produce, particularly our cherished cherries and citrus fruits from Mt. Rainier we had purchased in Washington, was confiscated.
Despite the inconvenience, our spirits remained high as we continued southward, arriving in Crescent City as the day waned. The coastal town, nestled by the Pacific Ocean, welcomed us with its rugged beauty and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The late sunlight bathed the landscape in a warm, golden hue, casting long shadows and illuminating the area’s natural splendor.
We settled in for the night, and as the sun dipped lower, we ventured to the beach for a stroll. The expansive sandy shore stretched before us, the cool ocean breeze carrying the scent of saltwater and seaweed. The children, filled with energy despite the day’s travels, ran ahead, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic sound of the surf.
With its gentle waves lapping at the shore, the beach provided a serene setting for our evening walk. The sky, a canvas of soft blues and pinks, reflected in the wet sand, creating a mirror image that made the world seem boundless. The distant hills, cloaked in lush greenery, framed the scene, adding to the picturesque tranquility of the moment.
Walking barefoot along the shoreline, we felt the cool water wash over our feet, the sand soft and inviting beneath us. The simple pleasure of the ocean and the beauty of the late sunlight made for a perfect end to the day. The children’s joy was infectious, their playful splashes and delighted exclamations adding to the sense of peace and contentment.
I felt a profound sense of gratitude and accomplishment as we watched the sun set over Crescent City, painting the sky with vibrant hues. The day’s journey, with its challenges and surprises, brought us to this beautiful place where we could pause and appreciate the wonders of the world around us. The ocean, vast and timeless, reminded us of the endless possibilities that lay ahead, each wave a promise of new adventures to come beneath this infinite sky.
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Click here for the National Parks website.
