The trip to Crater Lake, Oregon, was scaled back from the original inspiration. We were going to Alaska, as Woody enthusiastically claimed. He flourishes as a person both physically and intellectually this summer. Woody prefers cooler temperature so he fancies Alaska and other snowy places, though he hasn't really been exposed to the bone-searching cold in life. I looked into the travel packages to Alaska, each one would take a heavy toll on the budget. At the end, we decided to drive to Oregon because it was just up north from us. A little up north is still cooler than California. Woody the cheerful soul graciously went along with the idea and became excited about this trip.

Friday afternoon we got our rental car from Hertz, a 2005 Nissan Altima which is pretty powerful, and loaded up in no time. By five, everyone was ready to go. Only the Friday get-away traffic slowed us down considerably. I'd have loved to drive into the Cascade mountains around Mt. Shasta area while there was still daylight. But it became dark before Redding, the last big town ahead of the mountains. The darkness made us feel a bit hungry and anxious.

Our first destination was Cave Springs Resort in Dunsmuir. Cave Springs sounded nice on paper or on the computer screen as I found it on the web. I have driven by Dunsmuir a few times. It nestles in the high mountains of endless forest of tall pine trees. Unfortunately, Cave Springs turned out to be a joint pretty worn-down. We don't mind the conditions of the cabin. The really bad part was that it was located only a few hundred feet away from the ever noisy Interstate Highway 5 (I-5).Even Woody and his mother enjoyed the Jacuzzi at 10 pm, the roaring noise of the highway at night made sleep rather arduous at the best. As a cheerful soul, Woody got up the next morning and had a nice swim with his mother again. I sat in front of the cabin taking joy in watching the tall pines around the cabin. When the highway noise didn't matter, it was actually peaceful, fresh and very, very green. I mentioned green because except in the far north most of California becomes dry for over 7 months of the year. Golden State as it's called. What an irony!

The motel host was gracious enough to give us some free ground coffee which was not provided for cabin dwellers. After getting something to eat and drink, we sped up north again. Only about ten miles north of Dunsmuir, we veered off the ever so busy I-5 and onto US 97, a scenic byway of a much relaxed pace for us vacationers.

I always feel the struggle and joy of life (of all forms) when I travel. I see shrubs hold on to life in unbearable summer heat, scorched but not giving up. Mountains have ghostly rocks sticking out in scary formations, reminding passers-by of erstwhile catastrophe of epic proportions, such as volcanic eruptions. Of course, the giants, such as Mt. Shasta the dormant volcano, stare down on everyone and everything from their cloud-shrouded peaks of snow caps. One shivers in one's seat facing such severity and arrogance. Between mountains tall and short, deserts dry and ghostly, there are valleys that are flat and well attended, where vegetables, grass (hay making haven) radiate life in its original force, aided by modern irrigation systems and maybe potent fertilizer invisible from one's car seat. The land is so plenty in America that they can afford to leave the harsh terrain alone and let things natural grow on their own terms. Only the arable and fertile are being farmed here. When a shrub is given so much room to flourish, do I aspire to be a bush in a desert? I didn't have time to think about that because the car sped ahead too fast for deliberation of the mind.

From Dunsmuir, Oregon was no longer far away. Woody became excited that we were another state so soon as the visual difference was not that great. Maybe in his mind, Oregon was another country. In fact, Oregon or California is bigger than quite a few small countries in the world. Woody hasn't been out of California much, except a couple of short overseas trips. We travel around Northern California quite a bit but rarely out of California with him.

Klamath Falls was the first town of size we ran into in Oregon. There is a lot of water around here as Klamath River runs by but the town's sleepy and scarcely populated as lumber transportation and other little things seem to be the main employment. Klamath Falls resembles nothing of your typical great metropolis in North America. Folks there are mostly white but friendly. We weren't there long enough to run into rednecks and other distastefuls. The main reason Klamath Falls was in our plan was to go grocery shopping for the evening's barbecue dinner at the campground. We didn't bring fresh stuff from California for fear that they would become spoiled overnight in the car truck. Another reason was I remember that once when I was driving down I-5, the inspection station wouldn't allow fresh produce to cross the stateline. However, for miner road like US Highway 97 there is no inspection facility at all. "Welcome to Oregon" was the only sign we saw on the roadside. When we went up for gasoline in Klamath Fall, we found there was no self-service. "It's the 1970s in Oregon," our gas man told us and gratuity was appreciated. It was a creative way of employment.

After lunch, we headed up north again. There is a long stretch of Highway 97 that winds around Upper Klamath Lake. It takes about 17 miles. That's a healthy size of fresh water. The land here is so fertile that the vegetation appears lush and invigorating. Hordes of cattle, horses, sheep and even lamas munch their days away in leisure. A roadside Indian art shop almost tempted us to a stop. But we moved on, with big cattle ranches on both sides and small hills here and there.

Soon we were onto another scenic byway, Route 62.From there it didn't take us long to arrive at the Crater Lake National Park. It was only 3:30 in the afternoon. At once we felt we came to a magnificent part of the God's green earth as tall pine trees are everywhere. Big streams of water gurgle loudly dance lively from the bottom of deep, deep rock canyons. The rocky walls of the canyons first appear like concrete walls, so steep and so knife-cut. But a close look reveals that it might be the water that cut through the rocks or there was Earth's tectonic movement or volcanic shake-up in the distant past. The roar of the pine trees and the water deaf the car engines. So people stop their cars and venture out to investigate. The fragrance of the pine forest invite everyone to stroll along leisurely. You are in paradise so it's sinful to be in a hurry. Part of human body, some pressed cells, must feel at home there. The soul that has been contemplating of escaping has come back to the body with new found loyalty and ease of association.

With reluctance we left one scenic spot after another. Pretty soon we were at the registration kiosk of the Mazama Campground. Mt. Mazama was once, oh, some 7,700 years ago, a majestic peak towering over everything in this corner of the world. But the core of the earth found its chimney through that giant throat of Mt. Mazama to spew its pressured lava. Over the ions, there had been so much eruption, a mountain blew itself up into smoke, dust, crystals, flames, fire, lava, dancing rocks and burning soil ... a giant mountain emptied itself from within, like an oversexed man. So, it was inevitable that some 7,700 years ago a massive mountain collapsed onto itself. A giant erection became a mammoth hole in earth. And this giant hole became the Crater Lake as mountain springs, rain and snow water collect themselves here through the years. A beautiful body of magnificent blue water stays up high above ground among tall mountains and rocky cliffs. Nature's sex transformation thus has attracted many of us from all corners of the world. What a big deal that transformation was.

Our campground still bears the name of that erstwhile giant that was transformed. This is a nice campground equipped with flush toilets, and shower facilities. The Mazama Village has a store that carries almost everyone a camper needs. The amazing thing is that there are close to 200 campsites here and all of them were well hidden in the dense woods. So, the neighbors don't really bother each other much. It's so quiet and peaceful to sleep in the forest of gorgeous pine trees.

As seasoned campers, we pitched our tent in no time. Soon the barbecue grill (in the fire ring) was fired up. Barbecued sausages were delicious. To top it all off, the weather was great so far, with hazy sunshine and some gentle breeze. It was about 75 degrees Fahrenheit, ideal for outdoors camping. Since we were planning to do a whole day drive back to California the next day, we must visit the Lake this evening. Dinner was done around 5:30 so we headed toward the Lake. Crater Lake is actually ways above the campground. The mountains hold up the water high above the sea level. We must wind around the hills and climb up to seven miles to get to the rim of Lake.

There it was. We instantly became awe-struck. Never in our life had we seen such a body of crystal blue water nestled deep, deep among the mountains. The drop from the rim to the water is so deep and so steep that one feels a small misstep could mean a fatal plunge to heaven or hell depending on one's mindset. From where we stood, there must be a good 500 feet steep cliff to the water as trees and big patches of snow decorated the shores, in August no less. Oh, there was blue mist dancing over the water, putting a veil of haze over her gorgeous round face. Driving around, there are numerous vista points over looking the Lake, the rock formation, scorched rocks, and cooled-down lava maintain their sad shape for the past few millennia without even changing their original color burned black or dangerous posture of falling off and yet being held up in mid-air, while trees have grown on islands and the surrounding mountains.

Mt. Scott, the once baby who was created by Big Mama Mazama is now the highest peak standing over 9,000 feet. Phantom Ship and Wizard Islands were minor volcanoes in the volcanoes as both of them float in the Lake like ghosts and wizards, day and night. Mother Earth still needs her breathing channels. Now even the mouths of the volcanoes, those weird looking islands are covered by pine trees and other vegetation. One must admit that our planet is one of persisting life forms.

As it turned out, Woody knows more about Crater Lake than I do. For one thing, before the trip I thought the crater was created by an asteroid from outer space. Woody quickly corrected me. He taught me about pumice rock, how was it blown up in hot lava, trapped cold air and now can float on the surface of water.

We gathered some dry woods in the forest. The fire was terrific. While I attended the fire, Woody went to the ranger's evening education session with his mother at the amphitheater and came back with the news that there were families coming all the way from as far as Russia, Germany and virtually all 50 states of the US. Of course, Woody still mumbles even now that we should have visited the Pinnacles where one could soak one's feet in the mineral water while watching fantastic cones created by volcanic activities. There are no Jeffrey Pines here, as we see a lot of them in the Sierra Nevada here. Most of the pine trees are planted by this special bird named Nutcrackers. They little birdies keep burying pine seeds into ground and sometimes they forget where they are. As a result trees grow out of the seeds. That's why even the islands in the middle of the Lake created out of hot lava are now being covered pines. Woody goshes that each pine cone contains exact 100 seeds. Pine trees know math; that's truly remarkable.; Of course, Woody admitted his misconception that marmots didn't live in North America. They do in Crater Lake area.

I enjoyed Vitae Falls the most. A fair amount of water drops down the stiff cliff and yet the water cascades are not scary or threatening to people standing underneath. The trees and bushes around make the water fall a picture of live poetry and fine art. Again, some cells in the body speak up: we belong here.

Late in the evening, it started to drizzle. Still Woody said that the ranger assured everyone that there was only a 30% chance of rain in the night. Well, the ranger was wrong. Light drizzle started to pick up the pace and the raindrops added weight as the night progressed. Finally the rain became full-blown. In our numerous camping trips in California, we had never encountered the rain before. So, it was the first time our tent of five years was tested. The old tent kept the water out most of the time as only a few drops sipped in. Streams of rain water made a river around the tent while a small stream ran under the tarp we had under the tent. But inside was still livable and enjoyable. As I was lying there listening to the symphony of fast raindrops, it occurred to me that life has changed quite a bit for me. When the going was tough during my childhood, it always felt that the boat we were in was sinking even when there was no rain. Now, I was washed up and down by the rain, I didn't feel that boat was sinking at all. The boat floated along quite nicely in a sea of soft music, I thought. Confidence grows with age and suffering can only make a weak mind cringe.

It was a bless that next morning when we took down the tent, the rain stopped momentarily. Because we left the campground early around 8:30 in the morning, we got home early, too, in the afternoon instead of evening. Nobody got sick from the rain or the long travel so it was a good trip. I was a bit tired from driving that was more than 7 hours but that was expected.

August 24-26, 2004