Crater Lake

Some places on the planet are naturally spiritual, sharing a stunning presence. Crater Lake in Oregon is just such a place.

Crater Lake lies on a high plateau in the Cascades. You reach it by traveling up the Rogue River, through the Umpqua National Forest, and across the Pumice Desert - just the sound is a lyrical adventure, isn't it! Seventy-seven hundred years ago, Mount Mazama lost its temper and blew its stack. 

The hollow, bowl-shaped cone which remains contains the lake, six miles across and 1,500 feet deep - the deepest lake in America. You've never seen the color blue until you've seen Crater Lake. It's a remarkable shade - deeply intense, almost mystical, unimaginable!

The "look around" tour at Crater Lake is wonderful, because the volcanic rim is over 1,000 feet above the surface of the lake. At 1,000 feet up, there ain't no bad views! But, there's more to see than you might suspect! 

At the edge of the rim on a steep hill up another 1,000 feet - is an abandoned ranger station, "The Watchman" elevation 8,013 feet. The trek up is not too strenuous as the path loops frequently back and forth making the ascent quite manageable. Such paths always make me laugh; they remind me of real life - rarely direct, often demanding great discipline and firm faith. After all, it's truly hard to stay focused on "north" when we spend so much of our time walking east and west. Many get discouraged, some give up. That's a shame.

On top at the Ranger Station was a group of 6 or 8 young people. I could hear them laughing as I climbed upward and eventually they could see me on the path below. As I came in to view, there was a bit of whispered rustle and several varieties of smokeable products were quickly pitched over the edge into oblivion. Guess they mistook me for a parent.   As it happens, I am; but not theirs. There is a difference.

They were a very cheerful group, entirely sociable. "Better hurry up"; they called out, “you’re going to miss it." They had gotten as high as they could to watch the sun go down. And, quite a sight it was - the "Big Orange" dissolving behind several rippled waves of mountains out to the west. The young'uns celebrated and high-fived the sun's departure; gave me the "can you make it back down without a walker" glance; and headed raucously back down the slope into the growing darkness. 

Being slightly bald and growing old brings "rude

awakenings" at times.  It's a point in life when "things are not as they appear," but I forgave them for the case of mistaken identity.  " At face value" is a normal, everyday human mistake.  And, it's as far as some folks are ever willing to go.  Guess a lot of folks think: "If I don't reach out I can protect myself from your need."   Maybe so; probably not.

The blackness of night pressed down hard on the thinning line of orange and red at the horizon. Looked like one of those great ocean-going tankers with an all black hull and a bright red racing stripe at the waterline.   Sunsets take a full hour - no more, no less. The natural world has its own pace.  Not much you can do about it even if you're living on fast-forward.  It took an hour yesterday, it will take an hour today, it will take an hour tomorrow.  Ever questioned whose clock is more important?  And, then there was the growing silence.

Quiet is an interesting sound which you don't hear much anymore.  Darkness is still a frightening thing out in the wilderness.  I guess that's why animals don't talk; not much advantage in letting yourself become a potential meal over some idle chit-chat in the dark. You and I are different; we just reach for the light switch and keep going. When was the last time you willingly sat for a while alone in the dark?  Darkness is still a bit uncomfortable for most.  Ever wonder who we are afraid of?

Darkness took hold.  And, there they were; the stars.  That's what I had come up to see.  They're out there all the time, but so rarely seen these days.  In the darkness at Crater Lake - and, at Crater Lake the darkness is almost absolute, except for one very faint glow off to the south from the jungles of California - there are millions of stars, millions of stars falling out of the Milky Way. They put you in your place.  A raw awake sort of place, fully aware, very vulnerable.  As the cool night chill rose, I backed up close to the heat still radiating from the lava rock benches on the observation deck.  Curling up to that heat reminded me of the other great reason people do not like to sleep alone - to be held.  To hold or be held; not sure that's a choice.

Then there it was...

The darkness was complete; the stars were full bore; and down below, quiet and still, was a shimmering mirror six miles across.  Stars above, stars below; few places on earth can surround you with stars.  Absolute magic!!  Go see it!

Well, guess that's just the way life is; some folks watch the sun go down, others watch the stars come up. The Dipper was low; the moon was not yet high. I followed the pale weave of ribbon back down to the parking lot. Took one last full look and headed back out into the Desert....