Crater Lake

Day 107: Crater Lake

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The end of our current stretch was capped of with one of Oregon’s highlights: Crater Lake, the deepest lake in the US. We cruised the last 15 miles to Mazama Village, the restaurant/campground before Crater Lake itself. I didn’t like to admit it, but my feet were sore and I looked forward to a break.

Once at the restaurant, I split a mediocre pizza and fish ‘n chips with Fitz. More people we knew streamed in: Tailwind, Disaster, Big Oil and Jesse’s group. We set up camp in the pct campground, got slightly tipsy and then tried to get a hitch to the Lodge, a bar that had a great view of the lake. Pinch, his bride’s hat still intact on his head, used all his  charm to get us a ride. The man was extatic to see us again and had instantly jumped at the prospect of getting drunk at the Lodge.

Lavalamp with a paper bag on his head
Lavalamp trying out new ways to keep his head cool

The Lodge was a lot more fancy than what we were used to on trail. 15 dollar cocktails, waiters in suits and heavy wooden furniture. On the balcony we had an amazing view of the lake. It was really as impressive as everyone had said. I joked to Marble that if we had suits and were generically evil rich people, this would be the kind of setting where we’d discuss which African village we’d burn down for our next cobalt mine.

The place was a nice change of pace from typical trail towns. Cocktail in hand, looking out over the lake, I got very drunk and talked to Merman and ID. It was a great evening. Pinch is freaking hilarious.

Group photo at Crater Lake
The whole gang with Pinch on the right

A friendly guy took all of us high-spirited hikers back to the campground where we got a late evening meal. On the walk back I spotted Jesse and the others and sat down with them. They had been to a rodeo in Etna, which sounded like a cultural treat. In a somewhat weird sequence of events, someone had tried to teach Marjolein martial arts grips. For the first, she had to run into him. In doing so, she promptly dislocated her shoulder. The guy had panicked, but Marjolein cool-headedly shifted her shoulder back into its rightful place.

The Belgians were going to skip to Bend, making a reunion in the near future unlikely. Too bad. We headed back to the campground and I half-expected everyone to be awake still. Which turned out to not be the case when I found the picnic area dead and silent. To bed it was then.

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