Given that Crater Lake is a long drive from Santa Barbara, I decided that the perfect midway point would be Napa wine country, especially after I found out that they have a campsite actually within walking distance of a few wineries. Well it turns out that it was about 93 degrees on the afternoon of our arrival, so we reverted to the driving option, still an easy 1.4 miles down the road to Castello di Amorosa. Our all-reds flight opened with a pinot, included Napa staples such as two different cabs, and also a Super Tuscan as would be expected by the winery’s Italian name. As we basked in the castle-like surroundings with a European flare, we debated which bottle to take home with us in order to complement the steaks and asparagus we had waiting in the cooler. This was certainly a rough way to start a camping trip we remarked.
The smooth start to our trip would take a turn overnight. We had been pestered by swarms of yellow jackets surrounding our food, but little did we realize that one had slipped into Vera and Rebbie’s tent and chosen Vera’s hand to sting. Given her propensity for allergic reactions, redness and swelling quickly developed. A day later the redness had extended further up her arm and she was having difficulty bending her fingers. Undeterred, she was willing to forge on, but the plight of Vera’s arm was a primary theme for much of the trip, as was our disdain for any other flying creature somewhat resembling a yellow jacket.
As we approached Crater Lake and ascended in elevation, the air began to cool. A line of cars waiting to enter the park delayed our arrival, but this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Of the three hikes I wanted to do, the closest to the Mazama campground was Garfield Peak, on the southwest side of the lake. After doing some initial camp setup, we had a couple hours before sundown, so decided to go for it. The first time you catch a glimpse of the Lake, it is pretty breathtaking. It has such a deep and pure blue color, indeed the bluest of blues. There is in fact a reason for this, as since the lake is a crater surrounded by a rim of peaks, there is no water runoff from rivers or other tributaries. Thus, the water clarity is always pristine.
We inadvertently timed the hike such that we reached the peak as the sun was low in the horizon and it was setting for much of our walk back down. The color display above the rim was delicious, the tangerine hue of the sky reminding me of an orange popsicle.
As amazing as our sunset hike was, the downside was that meant we arrived back at the campsite after 9pm when it seemed like everybody else was asleep. We’d come prepared to continue our gourmet camp dining experience though, so elaborate food preparation began, followed by a feast of s’mores. Despite our best efforts to whisper and be quiet, I am almost certain our neighbors thought we were loud jerks.
Our 2nd day at Crater began with a fairly strenuous hike up Mount Scott, the highest peak in the park at 8934 ft. It is located on the east side of the lake and further from the lake, so it affords a different vantage point.
The final spot I wanted to see was Cleetwood Cove on the northeast part of the lake, the only place where you can get in the water and swim. The walk down to the water’s edge is steep, dropping over 700ft in 1.1 miles. Despite its cold temperature, I just had to jump into the big bowl of pure blueness. Chilling and invigorating, I was thankful for the warm afternoon sun.
The campsite seemed much quieter the second night, without jerks like us cooking dinner after 9pm. We were treated to a full moon, surrounded by Saturn and Jupiter. My temporary s’mores obsession continued.
We wanted to do some backpacking, so I had found an enticing option a little south from Crater Lake called the Seven Lakes Basin, part of the Sky Lakes Wilderness area. We were still dealing with some uncertainty about Vera’s condition, so before continuing too far into the wilderness, we stocked up on some more Benadryl. After about 6 miles on a dirt road, we reached the Seven Mile Trailhead. Disembarking from our climate controlled cars, we were greeted by the hot afternoon sun and excitable bugs. After lathering on sunscreen, dousing ourselves with bug repellant, and hoisting up our backpacks, we were off. It was approximately 6 miles to Cliff Lake, which was our planned campsite. If you haven’t carried a pack in a while, your upper back muscles feel it almost immediately. The hike had a slight uphill gradient and the heat wore us down a bit, but before we knew it we had arrived at Cliff Lake. The foreboding Devil’s Peak loomed in the background and we walked around to the far side of the lake where there was a pleasant little camping area. Nobody else was there. Or so we thought…
After a little while we saw three guys with matching purple shirts walk by. A little time passed and they walked by again. It happened a few more times and so we became suspicious. Occasionally catching a glimpse of them across the lake, they seemed to be making odd, ritualistic movements. After nightfall we saw what looked like a giant bonfire across the lake, and assumed they must be part of a much larger group. After retreating to our tents any unexpected sounds that we heard we attributed to them spying on our campsite. Our exaggerated perceptions were overblown. We saw the three the next morning on our way to Devils Peak and they wished us a happy hike like normal people. Cliff Lake was now completely ours.
Without the luxury of easily accessible bundles of already chopped up firewood, at our lakeside campsite we now had to find it ourselves. Rebbie took to this task quite enthusiastically and she was soon searching with the fervor of the resulting fires themselves. Continually disappearing on firewood missions, she had located some repositories on the opposite side of the lake, as well as patches of a yellowish dried grass that nicely augmented our wooden kindling. At this point in the trip, Rebbie had essentially become our group fire-making expert.
As the air finally cooled in the early evening hours, the tranquility of the lake increasingly hit us. Any day hikers in the region had since passed and we were probably miles from another human. Following dinner and a few hours of peaceful calm, we decided a little music would be nice. One of the few options loaded onto my phone was my high school reunion playlist, and so it was that we found ourselves serenading the creatures of the forest to the likes of Savage Garden and K-Ci & JoJo, ballads that the young squirrels and deer had possibly never heard. The more experienced trees on the other hand seemed to slow dance along to the old familiarity of Dave Matthews, and as Jewel’s last melodic notes wafted into the still night, we headed to our tents.
Such gorgeous colors! I want to see it myself now!