3117

Tuesday August 9

I have been over here for a month now, and I am not missing England at all; must be having a good time.

I loaded the car, once again the dirty washing not fitting in my suitcase; how was I going to get it all packed when I had to fly out of LA?

I passed a car shop on the way out of the town, which I just had to take a picture of; would you work in a place called the Tranny Man? I mean their work wear would be something to see.

The state line was just a few miles away, and at the line there was a produce police office. Or something like it; seems like California is paranoid about letting diseased fruit into the state and infecting its crop. Shame about the bag of plums I was smuggling in the trunk. As I had California plates, I was waved through. Straight away, the roadway went awful; seems like California spends little on road repairs. It was misty on the coast, not that there was much to see. It seemed the main reason for Oregon residents coming south of the border was to buy cheap booze; there was an abundance of bargain booze places.

The first big town in California was Crescent City; maybe big enough to be a city. It might be better names shit hole town, or something. 101 split into two; so double the strip mall. And traffic was pretty heavy. Depressed, I stopped at a gas station to fill up, and get some coffee. I was now going to head to Crater Lake, back in Oregon; so, I headed back north, and turned onto route 199.

Literally a few miles out of Crescent City, the road was into a grove of the biggest Californian Redwoods you could imagine. The trees grew to the edge of the road, and the road itself wound through the monster trees. It was really a pleasure to drive along this stretch of road. This photograph does not do justice to their size, as there is nothing to compare their size to. The trees must have been twice the size of those that I saw in the Olympic National Park.

The Redwoods soon ran out, but turned into a normal pine forest. The road wound it’s way of a river valley; really a gorge. The river was the Smith; sometimes the road clung to the valley sides with sheer drops inches from the side of the car. The gorge ran for about 25 miles, and was fun to drive, although there were a few other cars about to slow the mighty Mustang down. I saw a lodge at Patrick Creek; I pulled in and booked a night for Friday, as I knew I would be heading down this way.

I followed the road up to Grant’s Pass, where I turned onto I5 to head a little way south. The road to Crater Lake was well signposted, and I turned off; although I think I may have turned a junction early. At a town called Gold Hill I stopped for lunch at a small diner. I had left the roof down on the car; and so when I got back in it, the leather-like seats were boiling; and I was wearing shorts.

The road crossed the upper reaches of the Rogue River, and it was still quite wide, although shallow, and here and there it tumbled over waterfalls or rapids.

The road to Diamond Lake, where I was staying, branched off from the one to Crater Lake; the road was pretty quiet, and ran pretty straight for miles, sometimes with long, lazy curves. At times it ran through deep banks of volcanic ash of long forgotten eruptions; the forest had just grown on top of it.

The place I am staying at, The Diamond Lake Resort, is a self contained place; my cabin is once again on the edge of the lake’ I have great views across the lake, to the mountains beyond, all of which are extinct volcanoes. The resort has a laundry, so I get my dirty washing done. I had forgotten the ‘pleasures’ of sitting in front of a machine waiting for the cycle to end. When I checked in, I booked a table in the resorts’ restaurant that night, just so I would not go hungry.

So, dinner turned out to be a disaster; I turned up ten minutes before my reservation, and the table was not free. I sat waiting with a family with two children also waiting; and we waited; and waited. After half an hour, I saw the waitress give a table for four to a couple who had just walked in. Being British, I don’t like to complain; but this was taking the biscuit.

I went to the manageress, and vented my spleen. She was so sorry, and agreed it should not have happened. Would I mind sitting at the bar to eat? No, I said. I ordered Prime Rib, at 10 ounces it would be enough. Clearly, they were so sorry, one weighing in at over a pound was delivered; along with two free drinks, and a free dessert if I wanted it; I didn’t.

I got talking to a guy at the bar called Bob; we bought each other some drinks, and chatted. I did have a few more beers than I intended, but it was a good night. Wednesday August 10 Those late night drinks really ruined my plans to head up to Crater Lake first thing this morning. Instead of the seven o’clock start, I woke up at eight, and after having to buy some painkillers and supplies for the day; I hit the road at gone half eight.

It was just a seven mile drive to the entrance to the park; and a further ten or so miles to the rim of the crater. So, parked up, and prepared myself for the ‘wow’ moment when I saw it for the first time. No matter how girded ones loins, nothing prepares you for the hit of colour when the crater comes into view. The lake was formed when the volcano erupted some six thousand years before Christ.

The top four thousand feet of the mountain were blown off, and the remainder fell into the collapsed magma chamber. Eight thousand years of rain and snow melt have filled the crater with the most clearest of water to a depth of 1,900 feet. The crater is four miles wide by six, and coupled with the stunning blue sky, the effect is amazing. On the eastern part of the lake, another volcanic cone had raised clear of the surface; this is Wizard Island. There is a road that runs round the rim, giving access to several lookouts over the lake.

A few miles further round was the Rim Village. This is the tourist centre, along with restaurants and lodge. It was still before ten, and I thought I had better eat something. I looked around the gift shop before setting off to explore a little. The lookout continued right under the sun terrace of the lodge; where people were already sunning themselves drinking cocktails. A short while further on, the pavement ended, but I could see there was a trail that led on.

Looking up, I could see the edge of the rim rising many hundreds of feet above; and all indications were that is where the trail would go. Initially, the path was wide, and not too steep; but once clear of the tree line, it started to weave ever upwards. I tightened my pack, and set off up just to see how far I could get.

It was already over 6,000 feet above sea level, and I had to stop every few minutes to catch my breath; but gradually, I went upwards. Of course, most people do not venture many yards beyond the parking pot, so, all the people I met were fit, experienced hikers. If they were coming down, I smiled as we passed; and for the young fit things that were climbing, I pulled over and let them pass. The views over the crater were stunning; there were no fences, so I had to be careful, but it was worth it to see the crater just fall away beneath my feet to the waters’ edge maybe two thousand feet below. Along the trail were small Alpine flowers, and a cricket which when it flew, clicked its leg in a manic way, like a fire cracker.

I later found out these were Katy-dids. I guess it took me two hours to climb just over the two and a half thousand feet; the last 15 minutes, my back really began to play up; but I was determined to get to the top. It was not the top of the world; though it did feel like it. A solitary tree grew at the summit, and a family occupied its shade. Far below, the lake spread out, a single boat; a mere dot in the distance plied its way across the blue. I sat down on the ground, and had some of the trail mix I had bought that morning. When the family moved on to go back down the hill, I stepped under the shade.

In the odd spot near the summit, patches of last winters’ snow still lay where the wind had blown it into drifts; it was in the 80’s, but it was still there. Below, to the west, a small island made of almost vertical pillars rose above the water, perfectly mirrored in the water. I headed down the mountain; I mean when I say mountain, it wasn’t really, but it’d do for my purposes. It was easier walking down, and the views away from the crater were almost as impressive; the other volcanoes spread out into the distance, right into California 50 miles or so away. Far below, I could see the lodge, and all the tourists that had not strayed more than 15 yards form the car.

When I got back to the lodge area, the lot was full, and all the shops were crowded; so my plan to have another bratwurst and ice water were dashed. I drove on round the Rim Drive; stopping occasionally to get pictures. Once I had gone all the way round, I realised I had less than a quarter of a tank of fuel; and I had not seen a station in 60 miles. I headed out of the camp to look for gas before it became an emergency. In the end, it turned out the nearest station was at Diamond Lake; I filled up. I would have gone back to Crater Lake, but my back was being painful beyond belief; so I went back to the cabin, and helped myself to some more pain killers.

I went to the restaurant at the resort again, there was no panic tonight; I sat at the window and watched the sun setting. I had smoked salmon linguini, along with half a bottle of Pinot Noir. I thought I would go and see if Bob was in the bar again; turns out he was. It was his last night, and we both said we were going to have a quiet night. All was going to plan, and then we got talking about cocktails; and I asked the barman for his recipe for Mai Tais. And then, I thought I would try one. The second one I had, Bob had arranged to have spiked. One thing led to another; and we got drunk.