There is a trick to getting your camp broken down on an Oregon morning. First you eat and pack everything you can while still inside your tent. Then you jump out and haul ass to break the tent down. Now the mosquitoes will have swarmed long before you finish, so you walk away up the trail, muttering and cursing. This gives the mosquitoes time to disburse to look for you. While they are disbursed you run back, finish packing, and get on the trail. If you're lucky, and fast, you'll only get bitten a few times.
After this routine I made good time heading toward Crater Lake. I was looking forward to stopping into Mazama Village for a shower and a meal. Twelve miles dragged on until finally I reached highway 62. From there a short road walk brought me to the village, which consists of a restaurant, a shop, and laundry/shower facilities. I went straight for the shower, since I haven't been able to clean off in days. Heaven. Pure heaven. Next I hit up the laundry, wearing my cleanest clothes while the rest got a desperately needed cleaning.
As I waited for my clothes I met a German section hiker named Ingrid. We talked about all kinds of things, and I threw out a comment about the European debt crisis. I thought I was pretty clever - see, Americans can know things about stuff and whatever too. She asked a follow up question. Shit! I'm pretty sure everything I know about the European debt crisis is at least 4 months out of date now. She wasn't supposed to actually care what I have to say! I faked my way through a weak explanation, then quickly changed the subject. Eventually the conversation turned to books, and I mentioned that I usually burn the pages as I go, to save weight. She looked appalled. "I could NEVER imagine burning a book," she said with reproach. I was thinking "might want to ask your grandparents about it, sweetheart. Bet they could." But I was good and held my tongue.
After putting on clean clothes I headed for the restaurant, where I enjoyed a pulled pork sandwich and a salad. Then at last it was back to the trail to start the 2.5 mile hike up to Crater Lake's rim.
Crater Lake was discovered (by white men) by a guy named John Wesley Hillman in 1852 (I think. I'm spouting numbers from memory here). He was 21 at the time and had attached himself to a party of prospectors. He came up over a hill, much as I was now doing, and found the lake spread out before him. My view was slightly different, what with the road and Rim Village, but I could appreciate what he must have been thinking. The lake sits 1000 feet below the rim, in a caldera 6 miles across (technically it is a caldera and not a crater due to its size). The water is a dazzling blue, like I've never seen in a lake before. It is the blue of a perfect sapphire, and sitting in the middle of that blue is a cinder cone island. Wizard Island rises around 600 feet out of the lake and terminates in a shallow crater. When you look at the pictures I took, for scale just remember that the crater is the length of a football field. All around the lake cliffs rise up to the rim, in a variety of shapes and hues. They were once the slopes of Mazama Mountain, a volcano that would have risen about a mile above the current level of the lake, before it erupted 6800 years ago. Now the lake is over 1900 feet deep at its deepest point, and is filled with snow melt and rain water - a process that experts guess would have taken some 800 years to complete. The sight and scope of it all is breathtaking.
Hillman plumbed the depths of his creativity and named the lake "Deep Blue Lake." I assume his fellow prospectors then immediately named him "Captain Obvious." Fortunately the lake was rediscovered and renamed until the current one stuck. Since then it has had some memorable slogans, given by the board of tourism in an attempt to draw crowds. In the 1930s it was "Crater Lake - Come see 6 miles of Oregon not covered in trees!" But since no son of Oregon could conceive of such a thing the slogan was dropped. In the 1970s it became "Crater Lake - Our water cures ugly!" Unfortunately 19 drownings and 48 cases of pneumonia put an end to this slogan as well.
I grabbed a soda at Rim Village for a few extra calories and headed out along Discovery Trail. The original PCT does not reach the rim, and in fact it has no views of the lake at all. A hiker friendly side route, which follows an existing rim trail, was later made an official part of the PCT. This trail skirts Watchman Peak, on the caldera's rim. It is here that the trail reaches 7700 feet in elevation, the highest it will get in Oregon or Washington. While I was there, I dropped my pack and headed up a spur trail to the fire lookout on top. Situated at over 8000 feet in elevation, this tower commands amazing panoramic views. It was built in the 1930s to monitor mostly for lightning related fires. Because of the prominence of the peak, watchmen used to sit on stools with glass insulators attached to each foot, as a measure against electrocution in the event of a lightning strike. I stood on the tower's deck, made of the same local stone as the building, and snapped picture after picture. To the south I could see Mt. McLaughlin, and the closer Union Peak. Northward sat Mt. Thielsen, where I will be headed tomorrow.
The hike from there followed the rim, sometimes dipping out of sight of the lake, and often crossing shallow snow fields. Leaving the lake behind I was surprised to see a section of land to the north that was devoid of trees. It was small, maybe a few square miles, but as I walked past I could see a whole different side to Oregon. The sun began to set and the rolling green fields were lit up in the golden light. It was reminiscent of a well manicured golf course, with emerald fairways and sandtraps of dazzling white snow. Behind it stood a jagged row of trees in dark silhouette. Beyond, grey hills gave way to dusky purple peaks, with clouds the colors of sunset pouring over. It was one of those rare perfect moments on the trail. Could I have been wrong about this state? Could it be for more than just lumberjacks and hippy pot farmers? I stopped to enjoy the view... and was swarmed by mosquitoes. I sighed. You ruined a perfect moment, Oregon. It felt like a perfect first date ruined when, upon leaning in for a final kiss, you hear your date break wind so hard her cheeks are literally flapping in the breeze. You can both pretend it didn't happen, but the moment is gone.
I stopped at 31 miles for the day, not because I wanted to but because continuing to hike would mean death by mosquito cloud. I end the day with mixed feelings about this state. I guess in the end Oregon is just like a Patpong sex worker; pretty to look at, but don't go there unless you're ready to deal with all kinds of nasty bugs... and also sometimes she has a penis.
