Crazy Night at Crater Lake

The Dalles to Crater Lake - 257 miles / 413 km

NOTE: Written at Crater Lake, Wednesday, August 1^st  – the night after…

I still can’t believe it. There I was, in the middle of the night, hurtling up a dark dirt and gravel road, dodging deer, not knowing where I was going, but just continuing on, hoping for the best, hoping that something would show up. "Why am I doing this? I asked myself. "Is this really fun?"

It’s weird before you start out on these journeys. You can’t anticipate fate, the future. Last time out, two years ago, I nearly hit a very large deer at high speed in Nevada. That would have been curtains. I also had a close call coming off the George Washington Bridge in New York City. Before I set out this time, I said to myself, “I wonder what it will be?”

The day started out reasonably well. I left the Oregon Motor “Hotel”otel (the one with the unusable Wi-Fi) and headed out to take a look at the Columbia Gorge. I figured, hey I’m already in Oregon, I’ve lots of time. I probably spent a bit too long in the Gorge in retrospect. Also, on this trip compared to last, I’ve been reasonably careful to plan where I’m going to stay before I get there. I use hotels.com a lot on my iPhone, and it works out pretty well.

Camping is another affair. With the National Park Service you can only book two days out. A lot of times on these trips that is hard to do, because you don’t know where you will be for sure. Also, you don’t know if you will “feel” like camping, so…well, that’s how it is. Needless to say, didn’t have anything booked in Crater Lake, but all the literature and the blurbs I’d read said, “Generally not a problem here.” And so I figured I’d be OK. Riiiiiight….

The Gorge is a fairly impressive place itself. I decided to go down as far as Hood River. I met this nice Canadian couple from Victoria. We chatted for a bit and they asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking their photos and emailing them on. They were on bicycles and had no camera with them. They come down mainly for the windsurfing. Oh yeah, the wind: The Gorge is a very windy place.

It’s amazing really. The river is so enormous. It’s like a massive, but moving, inland sea. In essence I have followed this river and its tributaries all the way from the Canadian Rockies, Alberta, BC down through Kelowna, Okanaga, Dechutes, and finally the Gorge. Of course, after the Gorge, it runs into the Pacific Ocean, but that’s not the way I was headed.

I had a really nice lunch in Hood River (nice town, by the way) and I was off for Crater Lake.

It was a hot drive again at times, but also very pleasant up in the Cascades. I stopped in Bend, Oregon, to get a steak, asparagus, baked beans, ice for my mini-cooler bag, and a few other camping supplies, as well as gas up the bike. It seemed to take FOREVER to get packed up and out of that town.

Oh, also…while I think of it…Oregon is one of those stupid states where the attendant must man the controls of the gas/petrol pump for you. It makes stopping for gas more annoying – and longer – than should be necessary.

I got back on the road out of Bend at…gosh, I don’t know…I think it was 7:25 PM, or something. I can’t quite remember. The area near Crater Lake is pretty damn remote. My GPS had just switched to “night mode” when I stopped to put on warmer underclothes. Then it was dark by the time I turned onto Route 138. Let me tell you, Oregon Route 138 is one lonely straight road through nowhere. I was super-vigilant for wildlife. I didn’t see any. I also didn’t see any other cars.

I got to the turn-off for the remote North Entrance to the park. By now it was about 10 PM. I figured, “Okay dude, just hang on a bit longer…20 minutes and you’ll be at camp.” (More like 40 mins). There was nobody at the entrance, so I grabbed a few of the “newsletter” newspapers – one to read, and a few extra for starting a fire.

The road crept up and up. I kept it at about 30 mph, because honestly any faster and with the lights on the bike at night, you just won’t react in time. (Note to self: GET THE FUCKING PIA SPOTLIGHTS BEFORE YOU GO ON A BIG TRIP AGAIN!).

Suddenly, I rounded the bend, and there was Crater Lake. The moon was up, almost full, and there was this eerie lake, the caldera of a massive volcano 7,500 years ago, silently dark and reflective. It was very cold, there was snow on the sides of the road, but I tried to take a few pictures.

I kept going. Finally a sign: Mazama Village 12 miles. That’s 24 minutes at my speed. A car came the other way, and I dipped my headlights. Right as you do that, there is a “blind” moment when you can’t see a certain part of the road in front of you. I’m experienced in this, so I slowed right down. Just as well, because a small deer was crossing the road at that very moment on an intercept course, and I would have hit it had I maintained my speed. Nice one, Macker.

 I arrived at the campground in Mazama village. I was so looking forward to putting up my tent and getting some food! To my horror, the sign said “Campground Full.” I managed to get someone who was just finishing up for the day, and she handed me a sheet of paper with places to stay in Medford. Medford! That’ll take a couple of hours. “Are you shitting me?” She also told me of some “snow park” down the road where they were letting people camp in the parking lot. “About 10 miles away” she said. I shrugged my shoulders and headed that way.

I finally reached it, and saw a car or two parked there. I wasn’t really sure what to do. Camp here? Then I saw a sign for “Huckleberry Campground.” (I would find out in the morning that the sign actually read, “Huckleberry Campground CLOSED.” And that was the dirt road I headed up…

I had tried a little off-roading on the bike earlier that day near Hood River, and had gotten myself in a bit of a pickle. This road was worse, and there was nobody around. “Just a little further,” I thought, “It must be here.” Nothing. No campground. I felt if I stopped, I might drop the bike on the gravel/dirt/rocks, then I would be really fucked. I kept going. I remembered in Long Way Round, Charlie Boorman talking about standing up on the pegs when you’re off-roading. There was NO ONE around. I came to a fork in the road, and just instinctively went right. I got in further. Eventually there was a sort of clearing. A sign ahead warned of a “Very Steep Road” – gravel and dirt too, I might add.

I turned into the clearing, and a big tree was towering over an area that looked like it would be safe to camp. I got off the bike, got my headlamp out. It was QUIET. Not a sound. The odd rustle every so often when a deer would go by or something. It was scary if you thought too much about it. But I decided, this was fate, this was my lot, and so I setup my tent in the dark. I had some cheese and bread I’d gotten for lunch. I scarfed that down, got in my tent, put in my earplugs, and went to sleep.

I awoke to a mother deer and her little fawn looking over at my tent. They were wary of me, but seemed to sense I was okay. I talked to them in a soft voice. The little one scampered off after a bit, but Mum stayed around and I got a few shots of her.

The road didn’t look quite as bad in the morning. I stood on the pegs the mile or so back down the gravel to the main road. I decided to head back into the park and see if I could get settled into a proper campsite. I was keen to get out of the spooky one!

This post is getting a bit long, but I had to tell that story. You never know what life has in store. Long story short, I got a campsite for today, Wednesday and night in the park. I drove around the Rim Drive of Crater Lake. A beautiful place that must be seen to be believed. Again, I hope the pictures do it justice.

Tomorrow I head for San Francisco and home. More then.

Onwards!