Thither & Yon

“This guide book says eating at the Crater Lake Lodge’s restaurant is a ‘must-do, divine, dining experience,'” I exclaimed one evening in May, as I made notes on the Oregon leg of our trip.

“Guide book?” Dustin said.

“I got it from the library,” I said, waving the Fodor’s Guide in his general direction. “It’s a thing people do. Well… did.”

“How long ago was it written?” he asked.

This is, in fact, the problem with travel books. The internet can be a dodgy place, but it’s always up to date.

“2017, but I already checked, and the Lodge is still there. It’s, like, the only place you can stay inside the park unless you camp, which we’re doing, of course, but I think we should make a reservation here for dinner. We deserve a divine meal where ‘the food is second only to the view in perfection.'”

“Make it happen,” Dustin said.

Five minutes later, I groaned. “The restaurant is COVID-closed. They’re only serving hotel guests until further notice.”

“We could be hotel guests?” Dustin said.

“We cannot afford to be hotel guests,” I replied and showed him the reservations page, which I had pulled up after following the exact same thought process. He looked over the prices and whistled.

“And how much will camping cost?”

“”Camping is free,” I replied, rather glumly considering the low price tag.

“Right. We’ll check back. Maybe the situation will change by the time full summer arrives.”

Oh, those were early days, the optimistic days of thinking the vaccine was going to take off and we’d really be allowed to do our grocery shopping and park-visiting unmasked and fancy free!

By the end of June, the restaurant’s policy had not changed, but we had also run into a technical difficulty with our camping plans.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to splurge on a room at the Crater Lake Lodge,” I said.

“Are you proposing we buy a $300 hotel room so that you don’t miss the chance to buy a $100 dinner?” Dustin asked.

“NO,” I replied not-at-all too quickly. “No, but really, look: we’re coming from the north entrance of Redwoods. It’s a 4-hour drive, and if we manage to get a tour at Oregon Caves along the way, the earliest we can hope to arrive at Crater Lake is mid-afternoon. That means we’ll be in the park for less than 24 hours. If we camp, we’ll spend our entire visit hiking in and out of our campsite, and none of the campsites have views into the crater.”

“None of them?” Dustin was surprised, as I had been.

“Not a single one. If you want a crater-view campsite, you have to come in the winter after the road closes.”

“Huh, that could be cool,” he said. I agreed, but it wasn’t the item currently under discussion.

“I’ve picked out two day-hikes I’d really like to do. We could do both if we stayed at the Lodge. If we incidentally also got to have a divine dinner…….”

We pulled up our budget and reviewed the “accommodations” column. Booking low-rent hotels in the summer after COVID (oh! how young and sweet we were to think it would be “after”) was not an easy prospect, and we’d already had to up our nightly budget by more than 20% to make it work, but we’d also managed to find a few more opportunities to camp, which brought the average back down.

“If we camp all three nights in North Cascades?” I said.

“It’s just money,” Dustin said.

We booked the room. One night at the Crater Lake Lodge – accommodations which garner five star reviews across both books and internet – would be one of our two splurges for this trip, and it felt like the kind of place where such a splurge could really add something to the experience. We could get views of the lake at all hours of the day.

A month later, as we departed Redwoods, we already knew we’d have to skip Oregon Caves National Monument on this trip. I had called the visitors center the day before to ask how early we needed to arrive to obtain a pair of tour tickets, which are available same-day only.

“First guy this morning showed up a little after six,” the bored woman on the phone said, “but if you’re here before 7:30, you’ll probably be fine.” I could have managed 7:30 if it had not been a two-hour drive from our hotel to the visitors center. Besides, I wanted to stop and see those carnivorous plants first.

We managed to leave the hotel by 7:00, which is pretty great for us. We admired the Cobra Lilies then headed toward Oregon Caves anyway, just in case. We didn’t even have to walk into the visitors center to find out if we were too late, though: they had posted signs outside. Big signs. I bought myself a consolation bat finger-puppet.

Arriving at Crater Lake earlier than expected wouldn’t be so bad, anyway.

As we drove north, the smoke thickened. We’d been playing “How Far Can We See Today?” since the beginning of our trip. Redwoods had been crystal clear, but leaving the coast put us right back in line with smoke plumes from the uncontained-and-growing Dixie Fire. In fact, the smoke map now showed us entering an area overlayed by smoke plumes from four different fires.

“We’re paying a million dollars for a view that won’t even exist!” I wailed as we got closer and the smoke got thicker.

“It will be great,” replied my ever-positive husband. “It’ll clear up again.”

The two hikes on my list included the Mount Scott Trail, taking us to the point of highest elevation in the park, and the Cleetwood Cove Trail, taking us down to the edge of the lake. The smoke was making me crabby, and having hiked nearly forty miles over the last five days, a strenuous 5-mile hike for a smoky view no longer seemed like a worthwhile endeavor.

So off we went to Cleetwood Cove! This trail is the only legal way to access the lake, and is therefore one of the busiest trails in the park. In fact, a ranger was stationed at the trailhead waylaying all new arrivals to make sure they understood that if they went down, they had to come up the 700-foot climb again under their own power. We were also asked to please not throw rocks.

Folks who wanted to swim had to listen to a few more ranger warnings, but our only intention was to dip our toes. A 55-degree lake was not my idea of a relaxing swim, but we obviously had to put in our toes.

• 

• 

It took a little time to find some free rocks, as the quarter-mile of open shore was rather densely populated with other dippers, bathers, fishers, or just-plain gawkers. Plenty of people swam, but we were content to watch the invasive crayfish scuttle around the rocks. (Fun fact: Crater Lake naturally had no fish. Six species were introduced back in the less ecology-conscious days, and two species – a landlocked salmon and rainbow trout – remain today.)

Down close the the lake, the legendary blue of the waters could be properly observed, even though the blue of the sky was completely missing. The gray sky might have made the color of the water even more impressive, actually.

On our way back around the rim road toward the Lodge, we discovered that our difficulty finding the Cleetwood Cove Trail pull-out had not been incidental. There was absolutely no wayfinding signage anywhere in the northern half of the park. NONE. No markers for trailheads, no road signs, no mileage markers, no suggestions where you should pull off for a photo. A bit later, I heard a ranger telling another visitor that someone had stolen all their signs, which is hilarious and awful, but was there no intern available to find some cardboard and big markers??

Signless, we squinted at our map and eventually pulled over at what we hoped would be then Sun Notch hiking loop. This hike was the compromise between my crabby disinterest in climbing a mountain and the fact that Dustin is never crabby about anything.

The Sun Notch Loop was lovely and almost completely deserted. The views over the lake were lovely, and even the smoke seemed willing to cooperate at least a little.

Our loop complete, we returned to the lodge where I could be crabby in peace for a little bit. I wasn’t really all that crabby anymore, but a chance to sit still in a fancy hotel was just the ticket.

We’d checked in first thing after our arrival.

“Where are you visiting from?” asked the desk clerk. I believe concessions employees must be trained to ask this question because it’s an easy route to a friendly conversation.

“Rapid City, South Dakota” we replied.

“South Dakota??” she said “I went to school there!”

We chattered a bit about her time at school (eas’river) as she navigated the computer check-in process with a supervisor looking on.

“Sorry I’m slow,” the gal apologized. “It’s my first day at the desk.”

No worries, no worries, of course!

“Next you assign them to one of the rooms,” the supervisor said.

“Which room should I choose?” the new receptionist asked.

“Whichever you want,” said the supervisor.

The girl’s eyes darted around for a moment and then she grinned.

“Then I’m going to put them in room 217,” she said. “They’re from South Dakota!”

The supervisor smiled at us. “There are five rooms in this hotel that everyone wants, and 25 is the best one.”

I squeeeed a bit, we thanked our new South-Dakota-adjacent friend profusely, and headed up the stairs to our room. Turns out Room 217 is in high demand because it’s directly in the middle of the only wide gap between trees looking out over the lake. Having paid a billion dollars for the room, we really had landed the very best one.

We got cleaned up and headed out to the Lodge’s balcony (deck? patio? overlook? what do you call this thing?) to have cocktails and watch the sun set, because milking this Lodge for everything it was worth was important. Drinking in rocking chairs on observation decks overlooking shockingly blue lakes contained within freaking enormous volcanoes is pretty primo.

The weather started turning from overcast-by-smoke to overcast-by-actual-clouds while we had our cocktails, because if we can get our views smudged by one thing we might as well get them smudged by two things.

Dinner in the Lodge was a buffet, except all the food was behind plexi and diners had to go through the line one at a time while a server scooped food onto the plates. Very sanitary. Very slow. It was also very tasty, and I ate twice as much as I should have to make the most of my dollars invested. I recommend the pork and the soup. I do not recommend the rolls. (Is there a buffet anywhere that serves rolls worth eating?)

The night brought views as black as death. With the sky overcast and nary a moon or star to be seen, with no boats allowed on the lake and no lighting along the rim road, the view out over the lake was simply and profoundly dark. I don’t stop very often and think about how rare that is.

Drizzly conditions persisted in the morning. We got up extra early (for a hotel day) and headed out to Garfield Peak, a hike that starts outside the hotel. The peak is not as high as Mount Scott (8,054 instead of 8,929) but the views promised to be at least as good. Several park employees had named this as a favorite hike.

I definitely look forward to visiting again on a clear day. In fact, I would love to come back here in winter. I think camping on the rim in the snow would be amazing (you know, right after I get a whole new set of winter-appropriate gear, haha). But can you imagine that blue on a clear winter day, surrounded by snow?? I know the internet has photos, but the real thing is so much more magical.

Portland bound, to eat donuts forever (yay Sesame Donuts!) and the on to Mount Saint Helens!