Crater Lake - The big jump

Bucket list. Strange term. A list of important things you would like to do in your lifetime. But why bucket? If these things are so important, they should be put in a treasure chest or jewelry box, not a bucket. I imagined a bunch of notes, perhaps post-it’s, thrown in a bucket. Looking it up, it turns out the term was coined after “to kick the bucket”, to die, by a screenwriter for a film called “The Bucket List” about two dying men making a list of things to accomplish before they kick the bucket, or die. I like it better now. But still.

On the internet, some people said they had jumping in Crater Lake on their bucket list, and I thought: “Yes! Here is a monumental thing to do in life.” A crater, man. Imagine that. Actually jumping into it. I looked Crater Lake up on the map. It is in Oregon, it’s really round, and the pictures on google look great. It’s not a meteor crater, but a volcanic crater (just as cool) and it is HUGE, approximately 8 by 10 km across, and with a maximum depth of almost 600 m, it is the deepest lake in the US.
Here we are, driving through Oregon, and I now understand that everything in this state is volcanic – all the mountains are volcanoes. The landscapes are all in different states of post-eruption recovery. Now it makes sense that they also have a collapsed volcano turned lake. We left Klamath Falls, Oregon in the morning, a place filled with the fragrance of hot wood. No kidding. The place smelled like a sauna most of the time we were there. Especially, when it was hot like one. Not sure why. Anyway, I am pretty excited about this particular leg of our road trip because we are on our way to Crater Lake (the bucket list, remember?) and after that, on the same day, we are going to Madras, Oregon, where we are going to the see the eclipse later on (also bucket-list worthy, definitely). We are a little uneasy about the primitive “dry camping” we have planned in the upper desert of Madras.

You can only access the water of Crater Lake at one point, via the steep Cleetwood Cove trail, which descends down from the rim. Other than that, you can only gaze at the lake from high above, when you travel around it on the road on the rim, hundreds of meters above the lake. M is a little worried about whether we will actually be able to swim in the lake because we know the water is going to be icy cold. “I don’t know if we can take the cold water,” I say. “But, I am going to put all the power of my Viking genes into trying,” I tell him. “Me too,” he smiles with dreamy eyes. He has seen the pictures on google too.

First look at the lake

We drive through a great wilderness of pine tree forest and it feels almost deserted until we reach the gate of the Crater Lake National Park – there is huge line of cars, waiting to enter the park. After a delay of some twenty minutes, we get in. It is a hot day, but the temperature decreases as we work our way up on the rim. Suddenly, the road is lined with annoying cars, parked where parking is not allowed, some bastards even blocking the road. And then we see it, the lake! To hell with parking regulations. With a fast beating heart, we do like everybody else: We ditch the car where we can and run to marvel at the view of the lake. It is absolutely stunning. The deep, deep blue color caused by the great depth of the lake, the high rim, the circularity, and the enormity of it all! Just stunning. We take photos like crazy. M and I spot a patch of snow a bit uphill, and we decide to run up there. Panting hard, we realize that the snow is much farther away than it looked and the air is thin. Eventually, we make it up there, but I soon see a more alluring place. Up there – off the trail (where you shouldn’t go) – it appears that you can get really close to the edge. M chickens out, but irresponsibly, I leave him behind and continue on my own. I just have to get up there. I am a little worried, because the ground is actually loose sand. How can such a steep and tall rim be based on sand, I wonder. With legs heavy from the effort of the ascent, I very carefully approach the edge. I see footprints in the sand (that’s a good sign) and I see that there are rocks under the sand (also a good thing). And there I have it, THE SHEER DROP down to the lake, it is dizzying. I have the most perfect view all for myself. I smile and turn my head, hoping that M would have followed me, but he is gone. Would have been nice to share this moment with him. Instead, I have to figure out what to do with, with… with all this on my own. Photos, photos. I even work out how to do panoramic photos on my smartphone. Then I get a sudden urge. An urge to scream on top of my lungs out over the lake. Making sure there are no other people close by, I hoot like a madman (’cause the I-am-king-of-the-world cry is a little too old and too embarrassing if heard by someone). I run back down and find my family (M is also there, fortunately). Unsuccessfully, I try to persuade them to come up with me to the place I have found (I show them the photos on my phone, but to no avail).

M on the patch of snow above the lake

The view of the lake from "my spot" by the edge

The panoramic picture I took

We drive on. There are many pull-outs and viewpoints, where we could stop, but I have only one thing on my mind: getting down to the water. I just hope we can find parking by the trail head. And we do, by the side of the road. The sun is shining mercilessly on us, but with plenty of water, sun hats, sunscreen and swimming gear, we hike the 200 elevation meters down to the lake and find the place where you can swim. It looks great. People in swimwear are sitting on the rocks along the lake shore, some are in the water, and we find a tall rock, which looks like it has been smoothened by thousands of bare feet making the decisive jump into the lake. It doesn’t look too frightening at a first glance, only 4 or 5 meters. But before jumping, we want to feel the water, the temperature. It takes some getting used to (probably around 15 C). I use my goggles and dive down. It is fantastic. Just like Achensee in Austria, cold and incredibly clear, it feels like you are swimming in a giant glass of mineral water. Just a few meters out, the lake floor disappears in an ultramarine abyss. I can only dive a couple of meters down because the water gets so cold down there. I see the elegant brown back of a trout and return.

Eventually, the time has come. I have to make the jump. We have been observing other people doing it. It is a little scary. Not only the jump, but also the fact that there is a significant number of spectators. Before me is a couple of guys, who are visibly nervous about jumping and want me to go first, but I wait. First guy steps up the extra half meter to the edge but comes back. He is too scared. Second guy steps up, hesitates, and jumps. He surfaces and cries out happily. Now, it’s first guy again. He really doesn’t like it, bends his knees and lowers his hips as if to make the jump lower. Finally, he does it. My turn. I step up and all of a sudden the water seems a lot more distant. That half meter really makes a big difference. I look down into the incredibly blue water and feel a little dizzy. I am afraid of heights (think I forgot to mention that) and all of a sudden, the situation feels surreal. Like, this is not me standing here above the infinite blue. I jump, determined to make a happy spread-eagle in the air. When I make myself more compact before hitting the water I tilt a little and hit the water hard on my flank. I plunge deep into the water. I happily emerge and triumphantly swim to the shore. It was fantastic.

Hiking down to the water on the Cleetwood Cove trail

Bathing in the lake

My jump

Getting back to my family, the boys complain that my jump wasn’t cool enough. P says that it was cool that I did it, but the jump wasn’t cool per se. I am impervious to criticism, I am so happy with myself. Later I do the jump again with P. It is nice, but the magic is gone. I guess it was that first time of pushing myself, getting out of my comfort zone that really mattered.

P's jump - OK, better than mine

Hiking back up again is a lot harder and it is a good exercise. I think about the jump. When you say jumping into Crater Lake, it sounds a bit like standing on the rim and jump down, which is of course not possible (several hundred meters). What we did was to hike 200 meters down from the rim and find a tall rock of about 5 meters and jump from there. But it was still cool, or awesome, as they say here. It inspires awe. The fantastic scenery combined with doing something, interacting with it, pushing your limits. (Unlike for example Niagara Falls, which gets a bit boring after a while. Of course some people have also interacted with Niagara Falls - using e.g. a barrel - and pushed their limits there, but that is another story).