Sat 24 Aug 2019
After a pleasant night cosily ensconced in our little tent at the basic East Lemolo campground, we awoke to a fresh chill in the morning air and curls of mist rising from the reflective surface of Lemolo Lake. An hour or so later, the mist had burnt off and we breakfasted, packed our things and went on our way.
We drove south with a short detour to take in a view of distinctively pointed Mount Thielson across the sparkling waters of Diamond Lake, then reached the back of a short but very slow-moving queue to pay for entry to Crater Lake National Park, Oregon’s only national park.
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] Passing the time in the car ...
Despite the entry queue, the cars soon dispersed around the 33 miles of road that circumnavigate the rim of the lake and the area was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday in August. (Perhaps people were staying home this weekend and saving themselves for a break the following weekend: the long Labour Day holiday weekend.)
We drove clockwise round the rim road, stopping at various viewpoints to admire the deep blue colour of the lake, the striking cliffs around the caldera and the many named features in close up. The barren starkness of the cliffs means that the water entering the lake (as rainwater run-off and glacial melt) is very pure, and this combined with the lake’s depth (at nearly 2000 feet, the USA’s deepest lake) is what makes the lake so intensely blue.
We stood listening to the cricket-like sound of insects above Cleetwood Cove. We stopped for lunch with a view at hot, sunny Cloudcap Overlook – marvelling at all its ‘flag trees’ stunted and blown sideways by the prevailing strong westerly winds and amazed to read that the area receives 44 feet of snowfall annually. The winds were light today, but still had us hanging for dear life to our plates of chilli and noodles (quick-cook foodstuffs we prepared for lunch on our little campstove in the lee of a low wall).
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] Driving out to The Pinnacles at Crater Lake on the outside slope of the huge caldera.
We detoured 6-7 miles each way from the caldera rim to visit The Pinnacles, rock spires 30 metres high formed when volcanic gases rose up through a layer of volcanic ash and cemented the ash into solid rock. On the way to The Pinnacles, Dave drove straight through a sudden, single pothole on the otherwise completely smooth road and we all held our breaths for a few worrying seconds, but our luck held and we didn’t end up with a repeat puncture.
Returning to the rim, we stopped briefly to take in the Phantom Ship – an easily-missed, small, rocky island (actually as high as a 16-storey building) that bears a passing resemblance to a ghostly ship sailing aimlessly with its sails drooping from tall masts – before a more prosaic stop at the Rim Village Visitor Center to see if they would let us top up with drinking water, as we were, once again, almost out of water despite being very sparing (e.g., we didn't wash up our dirty plates and utensils at lunch time). The cafe staff at the Visitor Center were very kind and let us use their tap behind the serving counter to fill our bottles with 7 litres of much-needed water.
We had one final stop at Watchman Overlook, at the top of which rangers watch for forest fires at times of high fire risk. Dave and May found some shade near the car whilst Poppy and I trekked as fast as our legs would carry us to the top – a short (1.6 miles round-trip) but steep route in hot sun – to be rewarded with an all-round panorama and a perfect view of the entire lake, the cinder cone of Wizard Island taking centre stage.
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] The sweeping rim road as seen from Watchman Overlook ... But it was soon time to leave and head west through heavily forested, rugged terrain towards our destination for the night.
Much sooner than we’d have liked, it was time to move on, as we hoped to be staying about 30 miles from the Oregon coast that night, still a three hour drive away and with another planned stop-off en route. We had sort-of booked somewhere to stay inasmuch as I’d made a flaky Skype call to Sawyers Rapids RV Park a few days ago, which was the last time we had briefly come across wifi. They were full but, on hearing how much we’d enjoyed our stay 18 years before, they said they’d make every effort to squeeze us in down by the river.
Given that I couldn’t provide a US address (not resident), a contact telephone number (no SIM), a contact e-mail address (no wifi), a deposit payment nor even any certainty as to whether we'd need a pitch for both Saturday and Sunday nights, or just Sunday, they were very trusting, and we decided we would do our utmost to repay their trust by making sure to arrive on the Saturday.
Our drive across the beautiful, rugged, heavily forested terrain was punctuated with a stop at the natural Umpqua Hot Springs, a series of tiered, grey-rock pools of hot water overflowing from one to another down a steep slope above the North Umpqua River about 14 miles downstream of last night’s East Lemolo campground.
The fee was US$5 per car, but the box beside the USDA Forest Service signboard was empty of payment envelopes, so most people arriving decided there was little point paying and went in for free. We always carry a couple of spare envelopes when travelling, so decided to write our car number plate on the front of one of them, pop our payment inside and post it in the secure payment box anyway.
It was a short, up-and-down walk of about a third of a mile each way to reach the hot pools, and we had an enjoyable ninety minutes relaxing there. (Swimming costumes were optional so around 20% of the visitors went ‘au naturel’, although we kept our togs on.) We lay back listening to the sound of the gentle rapids and small waterfall in the river below and a man quietly strumming a guitar as he dipped his feet into a neighbouring hot pool. We loved it there even though it was busier than other natural hot springs we’ve come across over the years (in Italy, Chile, Costa Rica, New Zealand and elsewhere) and even though we came out needing a shower even more badly than when we went in: fragments of dead, brown vegetation now adorned every crease and crevice of our bodies.
With no further ado, we made tracks for Sawyers Rapids by following a scenic route down Highway 138 along the course of the North Umpqua River, then deviating across from Glide (before reaching the city of Roseburg) to pass through Wilbur, Sutherlin and Elkton. We pressed on, eating our sandwiches for tea on the way and noticing that our fuel was getting rather low after so many days off the beaten track. We decided to drive very steadily to conserve fuel, with no air conditioning in the car despite outside air temperatures of 85 degrees Farenheit (approx. 29½ deg C).
By the time we reached Sawyers Rapids, around 7:25 p.m., the distance range on the car was showing less than 22 miles, and the only fuel station within that range was the one we had just passed back in Elkton, 9 miles east, which was closed when we passed through. This was going to give us a problem.
For now, however, we were pleased to have arrived and have a place to stay after our long journey. Although the facilities at the RV Park were jaded, the park having been run for 17 years by the current owners and now up for sale, there was everything we needed (drinking water, toilets, showers, even a small laundry), the price fully reflected the condition, and the location was just as magnificent as we remembered – right on the banks of the Umpqua River, about 120 miles downstream of where we’d camped on the North Umpqua River last night and 40 miles downstream of where the North and South branches of the river merge near Roseburg.
True to their word, despite the site being busy, the owners had kept the very last pitch for us, putting us on a sandy, unserviced space down by the river, just 30 metres from where we’d camped all those years ago. This time, we had a secluded spot behind a round, five metre high boulder that had partly cracked open into two pieces, and the girls immediately got playing on this with children from the neighbouring tents, whom they learnt lived about the same distance from Winchester in Oregon as we live from Winchester in the UK. Oregon’s Winchester benefits from Inconspicuous Woods and the Winchester Baldy, whilst ours has West Wood and Crab Wood at Farley Mount ... but I dare not speculate about the identity of our baldy.
We excitedly made use of the facilities to get our third showers since arriving in the USA two and a half weeks ago and, as showers here are included in the nightly price, looked forward to having showers two days running. We cleaned our teeth and hands at a real sink with clean, running water and there were flush toilets. This was luxury indeed.
At a much lower altitude than recently, we settled down to sleep in our relatively warm tent, wearing only one T-shirt each inside our sleeping bags, and floated away to the gentle burbling of the river amongst the large, flat rocks and the forever-tropical sound of chirring crickets.
