Diamond Lake

I've often said hiking is my mental health therapy and never have I needed hiking and therapy more than the present time. My world ended with an early morning phone call that began with "Aislinn died last night". With those four words life as I knew it was shattered and my youngest daughter was gone, leaving behind wonderful memories and broken hearts that will probably never heal in this lifetime. I could certainly write so much more about Aislinn, her life, her passing, and my feelings on the subject and while I recognize this is a hiking blog and not a blog about grief, a sadness this profound will inevitably bleed into all that I do for a bit. Just four days removed from that awful morning, I was feeling pretty raw but the idea of spending another despondent day at home just did not feel very healthy, it was time for some trailside therapy in the nurturing company of John, Jennifer, and Diane, who are some really awesome friends.

The lake was calling and we must go

The original plan was to snowshoe to Boundary Springs but since I'm unable to concentrate much these days, I naturally forgot to bring my snowshoes. So, Plan B was to swing by Diamond Lake Resort and rent some snowshoes and then continue on. However, one look at the frozen beauty of Diamond Lake changed our collective minds and we, by unanimous consent, opted to hike on the lake instead.

Diamond in the rough

The day was sunny, the sky was a deep blue color, and groups of ice fishermen dotted the lake's frozen surface like flakes of pepper on a pile of mashed potatoes. Despite the seemingly warm weather (even though it was sunny, it was still pretty chilly), the ice felt solid enough under our shoes as we left the cabins, restaurant, store, and other civilization accouterments behind at Diamond Lake Resort.

View south towards Crater Lake National Park

Basically, we just followed the lake's eastern shore, eschewing the campground road running through the forest along the lake. It wasn't too long before the sharp needle of Mount Thielsen made an appearance over the eastern shore, its pointed white spire seemingly intent on poking a hole in the sky. Straight ahead were some low hills located in Crater Lake National Park, one of which I recognized as the disturbingly named Bald Crater. It was Mount Bailey on the western shore, however, that dominated the mountain scenery surrounding the lake.

Mount Bailey, ever and always

The mountain was cloaked in white and no matter where we went, there was Mount Bailey, reposing in all its snow-covered awesomeness. We had all hiked to the top of Bailey at one time or another, so we periodically stopped to admire the view and call out some of the landmarks seen on the rugged trail to the summit.

Fissures in the ice cap

As we walked, we stepped over some cracks and fissures in the ice cap covering the lake. None of us were well versed in ice and lakes or the dangers thereof, so naturally we were somewhat concerned for our safety as we hiked. All of us, at differing times, poked our hiking poles into the fissures only to find hard unyielding ice below, apparently the crack had since frozen back shut. But visually, it still was disconcerting.

We took the campground road to the pizza restaurant

After a couple miles of lake-top walking, we edged toward the large campground on the lake's east side. Grabbing the campground road and after veering to and fro for a bit, we hit the well-used road which in winter time, does double duty as the Pizza Connection Trail, so named because it connects the South Shore Pizza Parlor to Diamond Lake Resort. In winter, or at least the times I have snowshoed there, the pizza parlor is open despite there not being any clear driveable road to the restaurant, serving warm pizza to snowmobilers, Nordic skiers, and lowly snowshoers such as ourselves. From prior experience, the smell of hot pizza wafting through the snow-covered trees is its own heavenly experience.

A great place for lunch

Alas, on this day the pizza parlor was closed (it was mid-week after all, so maybe it's only open on weekends) so no sublime pizza experience for us. Bummer, but we resorted to lunch consisting (in my case) of oranges, beef jerky, and nut bars while bittersweetly contemplating the silent lake and mountain majestically reposing before us under a cobalt blue sky.

It was stark and windswept on the lake

We decided that snowshoeing across the lake was way more interesting than following the campground road, fissures be damned. By this time it had warmed up enough that most of us figured on shedding jackets and just walking in our base layers. However, upon immediately striding out onto the lake, an arctic wind blowing in our faces quickly and emphatically dissuaded us of that notion. It was cold! As we walked across the barren surface of Diamond Lake, John remarked he felt as if he was walking across a Russian steppe in the middle of winter and I pretty much agreed with him.

Mount Thielsen on the east side

There wasn't a lot of variety on the way back, just us making our way across a frozen lake with Mount Bailey on one side and Mount Thielsen on the other. The only thing that was different was that since we were facing north on the return leg, we could see the snow-covered massif of distant Diamond Peak. On the walk back, I took the occasion to bend each of my companions' ears in turn, talking about the horrible event of four days prior. They should have packed a couch so I could lie down and unburden my troubles while they take notes. However, I'm eminently grateful for having such good, kind, and understanding friends; I'd be lost without them.

Where sun and contrail intersect

I did do some thinking about where I go from here and where this new journey may take me and I did come to some resolution, which is as follows. My daughter had taken critically ill for no reason at all three years ago but managed to survive that, although it was very close to the other outcome. It was not very realistic to expect her to emerge unscathed from such a close call and the price she had to pay was that her legs were amputated. Just imagine being 28 years old and losing your legs. I know I would have had a lifelong pity party for myself but not my girl. In the three years after that catastrophic life change, not once, not ever, did I hear her complain about her lot in life or feel sorry for herself. She was amazing, incredibly strong, and utterly resilient: she unflinching stared Fate right in the eye until Fate blinked first.

Fishing party straight ahead

In a way, Aislinn embraced the whole living-without-legs experience, doing things like rowing on a competitive dragon boat team, exercising with yoga, and putting on a short dress whenever she'd go out in public. We had even talked about hiking at some point in the future! So, there's her legacy for me: look your problems (like overwhelming grief) in the eye and fully embrace the challenge and experience.

Peaceful aspen grove

There'll be ups and downs in the near future, such a huge and tragic loss cannot be so easily disposed of. But trail therapy definitely helps and rest assured I will be OK in the end: this is a journey, after all, and it will be amazing. Thank you all for listening.

We head straight to Diamond Lake Resort

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Garfield Peak

The hiking club had a two-part hike scheduled for Crater Lake on the last Saturday of August. I couldn't go because I had grandchildren Coral Rae and Aiden with me but I could kill half a bird with half a stone, so to speak. So, Dollie, (Dollie's) Mom, me, and the two tykes arrived at Crater Lake's Rim Village early in the morning, ready and eager for exploring magnificent Crater Lake.

Are we there yet?

Bidding adieu to Dollie and the Dollie-mom (they were doing the car tour around the lake) Aiden, Coral Rae, and I set off on the Garfield Peak Trail. We had walked approximately about 2 feet when I heard the first "Are we there yet?" I quickly got used to answering calmly "We're halfway" as brilliantly suggested in a recent article in Backpacker Magazine. That same answer heard over and over again confused the kids, and that was a good thing.

Crater Lake on a moody day

The trail is a steep one, climbing around 1,000 feet in its short 2.2 miles. The kids were feeling the climb but did enjoy all the stops overlooking Crater Lake. Well, to be precise, Coral Rae enjoyed the views while Aiden policed her, nervously pulling her back from the edge at every stop. Obviously, he wanted to end the hike with the same amount of sisters he started out with.

Switchback

After a series of complex and protracted negotiations worthy of a multinational peace treaty, it was agreed we would stop and rest at each mile mark.  Mile one was next to the trail as it crossed a rocky avalanche chute but we did have nice views of Crater Lake Lodge, Union Peak, and Mount McLaughlin. In between the two peaks were numerous small cones dotting the pimply terrain.

I'm adorable!

As we climbed higher and higher and farther away from the lodge, more and more hikers voiced admiration for wee Coral Rae, it was a big hike for a small girl. Once Coral Rae figured this out, she would start up a conversation with each hiker by stating "My Grandpa says I'm an awesome hiker!" After the resultant "How cute" was uttered, she'd say loud enough for all to hear "Grandpa, everybody thinks I'm adorable!" She knows it, too.

That close to the summit

We had been leapfrogging a group from India and about half a mile from the summit, some of the party decided they'd had enough and started to turn back. Acting quickly and decisively, I blocked the way and pointed to the summit, which was within sight, and persuaded them to finish off the hike. They did thank me later.

Awesome view from the summit

We enjoyed the summit lunch and laze at the summit. The views were spectacular with the lake lying nearly 2,000 feet below us. The weather was unseasonably cool and storm clouds hovered dramatically over the rim peaks. Fortunately, the rains held off and we stayed dry all day.

We could see our trail below

On the way down, Aiden was off and running, enjoying the downhill hiking a lot more than the hike up. Coral stayed with me, entertaining the masses with a pert "I'm a trooper!" The hiking club had hiked to Plaikni Falls and were now tackling Garfield Peak. So, on the way down, we got to meet our hiking friends from Roseburg.

Cloud shadow on the lake

When we reached the bottom, we took a short walk to a rather elaborately constructed overlook of the lake. In the roofed overlook, there was a scale model of Crater Lake and I pointed out Garfield Peak to the kids. Aiden said now that we were at the bottom, there was such a sense of satisfaction to be able to point to Garfield Peak and say we had hiked up it. Success!

The little darlings

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Mount Bailey

Dollie and I had hiked to the Mount Bailey summit several years ago and what I remember about that hike was it was totally awesome and we gaily skipped up to the summit holding hands while singing "Kumbaya". Ah, memory is so selective about what it remembers and what it forgets. What I had forgotten about and was painfully reminded of on a recent revisiting to Mount Bailey was how long (10.3 miles) and how much elevation gain (3000 feet) was involved. I figured I'd put this all down in the first paragraph as a future reminder should I ever again decide to re-hike Bailey because sure as beans make farts, I will only remember how totally awesome this hike is.

Steep trail

Beginning at the Silent Creek trailhead, just off of iconic Diamond Lake, the dusty trail wasted no time in heading uphill through the lodgepole. There were a couple of other hikers starting out the same time as me: Tom from Springfield, and a younger couple from Corvallis with a short-legged dog. We would leapfrog each other all day long. The day was gloriously sunny yet slightly on the cool side unlike the charcoal oven that is Roseburg. And did I mention the trail was steep?

Just when it couldn't get steeper...

There weren't a lot of views other than me watching my feet on the slog up. Near the one mile mark, there was a temporary respite as the trail followed a blessedly flat roadbed for about a mile or so. The level fun fest ended at Road 388, after which the trail really began climbing in earnest, the previous climb to the road being just a warm-up. It was at this point the Corvallis dog was carried on his master's back, lucky dog.

Looks more like a volcano, now

The forest became thinner and thinner and intermittent views to Crater Lake began to grace the breath catching stops. Dead whitebark pines were strewn about the rocky slopes where they died, their bony fingers reaching up in futile supplication to the hiking gods to make all the bad uphill stop. The path wandered through a world of rock, the landscape tortured and blasted as befits a volcano. At an overlook of an avalanche basin, I could see the Bailey summit, still demoralizingly high above me.

There's a hole in me mountain!

There is a crater off to one side of the moutain, making Bailey about as symmetrical as a painting by Picasso. The trail rounded the crater, with a small patch of snow caked down in the bottom of the pit like lint in a belly button. My friends from Corvallis turned around and headed back and I did a good thing. Blocking their way down, I pointed out the mileage (0.7 miles to go) and elevation left (400 feet to go) and gave them a rah-rah pep talk "Go hike this for the Gipper!" Grudgingly, they turned back towards the summit and continued on. They did make sure to thank me when we were all atop the summit.

Mount Bailey

Speaking of summits, it was less than a mile away with a whole bunch of stuff to go through before getting there. First off, there was a false summit to climb. From the false summit, a jagged lava dike crested the ridge connecting all summits, be they false or true. The trail rapidly dropped away from the false summit, losing all that hard earned elevation. Before we get mad at trail designers, bear in mind the unpalatable alternative would be to hike on top of the jagged lava crest.

But who washes your windows?

The trail (more of a goat path, really) hugged the base of the lava wall and hands were used to steady hikers while loose rocks rolled down the 2,000 foot scree slope. A window in the wall allows for a nicely framed shot of Mount Thielsen and I briefly let go of my handholds to snap a picture. At the far end of the wall, the trail headed steeply to the ridge crest on treacherous footing with some more use of hands required, a short scramble then delivered hikers to safety atop the ridge.

Why we hike

Now it was all about the views. Mount Thielsen, Bailey's pointy neighbor dominated the scene, rising up in all its needle glory to seemingly poke a hole in the heavens; while Diamond Lake reposed at Thielsen's feet like a starstruck groupie. All the peaks of Crater Lake's rim surrounded the hole in the ground that is the lake and to the north was Diamond Peak with South Sister faintly visible in the smoky haze. Forget about a view further south, both Mount McLaughlin and Shasta were lost in the wildfire smoke emanating from California. Or maybe it was just normal California air, I'm not really sure.

Hey buddy, got some nuts?

After an enjoyable view soak with puffy clouds floating above like giant helium-filled cotton balls, it was time to pick our way down Mount Bailey as shadows lengthened in the late afternoon. Going downhill is in some ways harder than going up and I was a tired sore-kneed puppy when I arrived at the trailhead. But by the time I reached Winston, the memory of the pain and misery had faded and what stayed with me was the sweet memory of an awesome hike.

Last push to the summit

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