Crater Lake Rim

What a difference a week or two makes! Glen and I had gone snowshoeing at Crater Lake nearly two weeks prior and the weather was so bad that I left the camera in the car and just snowshoed. That's like only the second time ever I intentionally left the camera behind to protect it from the elements, so you know the weather had to be dire. On that day, the wind was howling, wet snow filled the air, and the lake was hidden from view by inclement weather. It was a great and awesome hike! Because we were both properly clad in snow gear, we were actually quite toasty warm as we trudged in the wind and snow that day.

Paige is prepared for cold weather

Flash forward to this mid-March day and the sun was up, the sky was that deep blue that seems to hover only over Crater Lake, and the crater rim was cloaked in several feet of snow. Oh yeah, there was that lake thingy reposing in the crater itself, the sapphire blue of the water having its own reserved parking spot, so to speak, in the color spectrum parking garage. Lulu enjoyed the snow so much she had to eat it every time we paused in our walk along the crater rim. Of course, Lulu is a dog but there were two other humans in our party besides your merry blogster: Glen and his daughter Paige, who continually referred to Lulu as Wuwu. 

Whitebark pine against an amazing blue sky

Despite the sun, we remained clad in snow clothing and layers as the wind blowing on the rim was downright arctic. The problem was that every time our route dropped down below the actual rim, the wind was blocked and we roasted in the bright sun. However, we mostly kept our gear on because that wind was present at every viewpoint along the rim. Hot, cold, hot, cold, and no happy medium in between. 

Wizard Island, afloat in the lake

Our route was Rim Drive, quite free of tour buses, RVs, and other touristy means of transportation this time of year. In winter, the erstwhile road is well used by snowshoers and skiiers alike and following the well-trod route was eminently easy. The snow was old, having gone through the melt, freeze, remelt, and refreeze process many times over during the winter. For us, that meant the snow was hard and sort of icy, making for easy snowshoeing. You almost didn't need the snowshoes and we did see one couple actually hiking in their boots atop the crusty surface of the snow.

The Watchman and Hillman Peak
rule the western side of the rim

After a mile or so, we hit the first of two main viewpoints, the first being Discovery Point, so named to commemorate the place (sort of) where John Hillman discovered Crater Lake. I get sort of cheesed by the "discovery" of Crater Lake being attributed to Hilllman because the native tribes in the area were well aware of the existence of the lake, but they don't count, apparently. Also, nobody really knows the exact spot that Hillman first spotted the lake but since it could have been at Discovery Point, a plaque commemorating the event marks the hypothetical spot. All this silly and irritating history aside, Discovery Point has an awesome view that was worth the snowshoeing effort to get there.

The peaks of the south end of the lake

Discovery Point lies on the southwestern corner of the lake ("corner" he said, ignoring the fact that the lake is round and doesn't have any corners) and a series of snowy and rugged peaks (Garfield Peak, Applegate Peak, Dutton Cliffs, and Mount Scott) marched in stately procession with Mount Scott leading the charge on the eastern side. To the north was our immediate neighbor The Watchman with fraternal mountain Hillman Peak parked right next to The Watchman. Down in the lake itself was Wizard Island, permanently afloat in the Crater Lake stewpot, with the imposing cliffs of Llao Rock looming over the north side of the lake. Beyond the lake, the tops of Timber Crater and Mount Thielsen were just visible. And always, the stunning sapphire color of Crater Lake itself. Amazing vista and this is why we hike, boys and girls.

Rock 'n roll!

After a round of appropriate oohs and ahs, we continued on up and over a ridge to the next viewpoint. This portion of the snowshoe trek is my favorite non-Crater Lake related part of the short hike. Rim Drive curves up and over the ridge with a steep slope on either side of the road cut. It probably doesn't look like all that much in summer but in winter it's a snow-covered canyon in miniature, replete with cornices, flutings, and other wind-driven snow formations. Rocks had rolled down from above, leaving tracks in the snow that culminated with the body of the culpable party just sitting there, with nowhere else to roll.

Perfectly smooth, like me!

The second viewpoint has a similar vista as Discovery Point, the view changing only in angle of orientation, due to our being a mile further along the rim. Wizard Island was a lot closer though, and we raptly gazed at the magical cone, totally enchanted and entranced at the spellbinding island. Behind us, on the landward side of the rim, was a snowy expanse that I refer to as the "Ski Bowl". Normally, this area is criss-crossed with ski tracks and you can almost feel the skiers' joy as they play in this wintry wonderland. However, today there were no tracks at all, just rolling hills of snow with the most perfect texture. It would have been a shame to mar the perfect smoothness of the snow with our snowshoes so we just looked and did not touch.

Mount McLaughlin and Union Peak have a staredown

After a windy laze taking in the awesome view while one of our quartet ate snow, we turned around and headed back towards Rim Village. Since we had hiked mostly downhill on the way out, it naturally was mostly uphill on the way in. But the grade was not severe, and legs did not complain too much about having to transport our respective torsos to a higher elevation. We stared at jagged and cragged Garfield Peak on the way in, with a nice view of Union Peak and massive Mount McLaughlin well off the crater's rim to the southwest. 

What a difference from nearly two weeks ago!

After the trip ended, we enjoyed a restorative lunch at the Crater Lake restaurant in Rim Village. This would be like the last "normal" activity we'd do for a while as the coronavirus pandemic came in a day or two later for an extended and unwelcome stay. It makes me wish for things as they were, even if it means snowshoeing in severe weather. What a difference a week or two can make, indeed.

Texture on a snow drift

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

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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

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

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