Andrea S.

A circle of impossibly blue waters makes the surrounding arid land look bland.  Even the spotless sky shines a dull might-need-a-good-washing dim blue next to these deep waters.  Crater Lake, a has-been volcano who blew her top and sunk, is a big crater filled with melted snow and she is spectacular!  We stand and stare.  My son room-rooms his toy cars along the rock wall.  

“Look at that beautiful lake,” I snap at him.  “Rrrrrrrooom,” he retaliates.  Well if the littles are not going to soak it in then I am all for throwing them on our backs.  We set out to hike up Mount Scott, a five mile hike offering the highest viewing         point of Crater Lake.  I take the lesser she-little and my husband packs the matchbox man.  My luggage fusses and squirms in protest.  “Maybe this is not a good idea,” suggests my husband.  “They are going to love it!” I argue in hopes of commanding it true. 

Sixty seconds into our hike my daughter falls upon dead silence and then sings out “Oooooooh.”  As I stare at crashing Cascades and pine tree wilderness, I completely agree.  “Oooooh!”  We hike on in silent bliss.  In no time we are switch backing our way to the

top.  The wind swept summit is split by a passable ridge.  We walk along looking at two worlds.  Behind us country side and farm land stretching out to soft rolling hills and in front of us Crater Lake with a back drop of cresting peaks.  I stretch my arms out.  I feel like a bird.  OK, a bird with a parachute pack of its young strapped to its back, but none the less some sort of very heavy bird.